Don't Touch Her Act 2: Finding Peace

Chapter Thirty-Seven

𝓥𝓲𝓸𝓵𝓮𝓽

Dominic picked me up that evening after my shift.

We pulled up to a small restaurant, and thankfully, were seated very quickly. My stomach felt like it was eating itself.

He was unusually quiet.

I looked away, feeling as if I had done something.

"Dominic?" I said, finally gathering enough courage to speak my thoughts.

For a moment, he put his head in his hands, and then looked at me, pushing away whatever negative feeling there was just a moment ago.

"... Are you okay?" I asked hesitantly.

"Never better," he replied curtly.

I stared at him, taking in a deep, silent breath. I looked down, wetting my lips before speaking. "Please, tell me... You don't seem okay."

Suddenly, he was reaching across and pulling my chair closer to him, the legs scraping obnoxiously against the tiled floor. Others turned to look at us.

I swallowed, feeling slightly nervous with the way he held my hands in one of his, the way he was looking at me so intently. I feared he could hear the loud thump of my heart.

There was this annoyed look in his eyes, teetering between anger and concern. He almost seemed as if he was going to tell me, but then decided against it. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

He let go of my hands, looking into the room with this certain kind of hatred that made me feel uneasy. I wanted to demand what was going on, but was nervous he would lash out at me, considering his frequent problems with anger. So, I sat there quietly, keeping close to myself, and ate in silence once are order arrived.

I grabbed my coat once are meal was finished, following slowly behind him. He looked back once we had gone outside into the chilly night air and stopped abruptly, waiting for me.

He took my hand and pulled me alongside him until we got to his car.

"Violet," he looked at me, his figure dark and intimidating as he stood there. He leaned his head back slightly, his Adam's apple protruding significantly more as he swallowed. "I'm not mad at you. You haven't done anything." 

"Then?" I asked quietly.

He looked at me, a muscle protruding in his jaw before his gaze eventually softened. He didn't say anything, just looked at me, repeatedly going from head to foot. Finally, I looked away, feeling flustered.

It was me. I had done something. Maybe he was finally put up with me. My secrets, my trauma's, me.

Me, me, me.

I wasn't anything special, I knew that. I was boring and quiet. Of course, he'd be through with me.

"Violet," he said, breaking me from my thoughts.

I looked back up at him. He kneeled down and wrapped me up in his arms. "Just a rough day. It's not you."

I couldn't help but feel like he was lying.