How It's Said

Chapter Nine

Eric’s nostrils flare, his eyes so dark they’re almost black. His body tenses, the muscles in his biceps bulging for a second before he nods and loosens his grip on me. I quickly pull away.

I rub my wrist, the skin red from Eric’s tight grip on me. I shake my head, feeling tears prick at my eyes. I clench my jaw as I blink them away. I’m not letting him see me cry. He’s not going to crush me then get the satisfaction of seeing me in tears.

I stand there, just watching him, hoping he’ll say something, anything. I desperately want him to tell me that he does want me, but as the minutes tick by, I realize that that’s not going to happen.

Turning, I take calm, sure steps even though my body is shaking. I cross my arms in front of my chest and straighten my back, appearing more confident than I actually feel. I hear Eric take in a breath, deep and strong, like he’s going to say something. I slow my steps, but don’t turn around. Nothing.

Shaking my head, I resume my stride. I’d just crossed the threshold into the house when I hear a crash. I spin around and watch as Eric pummels his fist into the brick wall over and over again.

I cover my mouth with my hand for a second before I turn around and run for my car.

I don’t need complications like Eric Rogers in my life.

****

My hands shake as I wipe tears off my cheeks. The light turns green and I know I shouldn’t be driving in this state. Right now, I don’t care. I can’t go home in case Eric actually cares and comes looking for me. I almost laugh at that. Why would he come looking for me? He’s already shown me how little he thinks of me.

I spot a McDonalds and I pull in, deciding a high calorie meal of French fries, fried meat, ice cream and a Coke will make me feel better. I park by the building, quietly unwrapping my fried meal. I eat a few fries as I turn the dial for the radio. I come to a pause as a familiar song comes on the radio.

Bad Girlfriend, Theory of a Deadman.

Eric told me once that when he hears this song, he thinks of me. I had laughed, smacking him on his arm.

“You think I’m a slut?” I asked, serious.

“No.” Eric pecked me on the lips. “This song makes me think of how wrong I am for you.”

“How so?” We’d never talked about our status as a couple before, today, but we were close. We each had feelings for each other despite.

“You’re a good girl, Anna.” Eric had whispered in my ear.

I take a drink of my Coke, shoving those thoughts out of my mind. I’m not a good girl. I make a deal with the Devil and yet, I’m a good girl? That’s as bad as it fucking gets.

I clench my fists and squeeze my eyes shut. Those words Eric had whispered to me, almost tenderly as we laid in bed together while we listened to the radio had almost seemed caring. Like he was concerned about what happened to me.

I’m not making that mistake again. Eric Rogers is a person to avoid.

I toss the empty fry carton onto the passenger seat and take the M&M McFlurry into my hands. I swirl my plastic spoon in the creamy mixture for a moment before sticking it in my mouth. It’s already half melted, the M&M’s divvied of color, the white ice cream now a distasteful gray. I eat it anyway.

A half our later I’ve emptied my carton of fries, the burger wrapper is crumpled on the floor, and the McFlurry has melted until it’s no longer appealing.

I throw it all in the trash and wipe my hands clean on a napkin. I don’t want to go home. I don’t know if Eric will chase after me or not, but I really don’t want to talk to him right now. I try and think of all the places I could go, but I don’t want to be alone any more.