Mafia Man and Me

Chapter 32

I felt disgusting. I got up and out of the tiny bed that smelled of sex, sweat and mildew. I winced as I stood and a sharp pain shot up my spine. I grimaced at the cold feeling of bathroom tile under my feet.

I stared into the mirror, hating myself for letting it happen, I should've tried harder to get away, I shouldn't have let him bring me home. My fault, not his. He's a man, he has urges, it's not his fault I deserved it. I felt sick to my stomach. A voice in the back of my head told me it wasn't my fault, but I pushed it aside, instead collapsing in front of the toilet, vomiting. I grimaced at the acidic taste it left in my mouth, coughing. I sat up on my knees, getting ready to stand. I stood and hissed, walking slowly out of the bathroom, past the dingy bedroom and into the living room, only just noticing my limited amount of clothing.

I groaned, hurrying back to the bedroom to put on my clothes, noticing Bert had already gone. I pulled on my sweaty clothes, patting down my hair and pulling on my socks. I slid to the small fridge and microwave we pityingly called a kitchen when we both lived in this ratty apartment. Before our latest fight that had me out on the streets, moving into an apartment that was better off than this one, and even through all that, we were still considered a "couple". It might be because nobody ever knew about the abuse, nobody knew about the relationship really.

It's not really anybody's fault but my own that I'm still in this relationship. Wrapped up in my thoughts I forgot to close the fridge, I would get punished for that later, but for now, I stared at the wall, blocking out everything.