That One November Night

Chapter 44: The letter

Gwen's POV:

Leading on from the words I had just told him, I gave a quick glance to the top of the stairs and noticed immediately that Connor wasn't there. Whenever he made me answer the door he would without a doubt, always poke his head out from the top of the banister railing and spy at what was going on. This time he didn't. The shocking truth was probably too much for him to even want to look at me. I hadn't lied to him again but telling him about the abortion showed him that I kept leaving parts of the truth out. Maybe he knew that if he saw Travis that he wouldn't be able to keep himself calm, after all I had asked him to promise me that he would stay upstairs and he promised me, I was thankful of that.

Connor never broke promises.

Through the peep hole of the main door, I peered at the vermin wretch stood a metre away, on the edge of the step. Arms deep in his pockets. He wore a frozen expression on his face. Clearly aware somehow, that I was looking at him.

I turned the keys in the handle and before opening the door made myself look more presentable. Opening outward his face hardened. "You have my attention." I told him, keeping my voice low to avoid him thinking that I was influenced by his presence (Which I was), "I assume this has something to do with the phone call last night?" I asked him with my hand still on the door – able to shut it at any time but I found it impossible.

He smiled like the joker as he stepped into the room, "Lower your arm Kitten. I'm not here to cause trouble."

I let go of the door and stepped back. Allowing him to take control. As always.

I examined his frame, he was wearing mainly leather: boots of dark purple, ripped navy blue jeans and a brown leather jacket which clung to his enormous skyscraper muscles which hadn't been so large the last time I saw him. Another different feature was his hair, it was darker – dyed leaving it to seem un-natural and made his pale skin look even more ghostly. The shoe scar was still there but mainly just the upper quartile above his nose which had always looked broken since that day.

As he dumped the front door keys back into the pot at the side, he seemed pleased with himself knowing where to put the keys even after three years. It was probably closer to three and a half by now, not that he would care about the digits. I finally gave in and looked him in the eye as I couldn't hold off the urge any longer. From then on, I knew that I couldn't get rid of him. Not easily. I would have to listen to what he had to say, only then could I get him out of my house – I couldn't act irrationally.

Waiting for me to do something, he gazed down the corridor. I prayed Connor was still in the bedroom. I didn't want to speak to Travis but I knew I would have to at some point because he would get aggressive otherwise. Before I could say anything he was already moving through the house. Towards the kitchen. As he went in through the door which led into the dining room, I glanced back almost forgetting about my fiancé upstairs. I paused a moment before heading on. He led himself into the kitchen, ushering me to go first. Once in, I stood in front of the isle at the corner of the cabinets. Travis remained stood in the doorway, keeping his distance at first.

"So," I finally breathed, "I would usually ask if you wanted a cup of tea but this isn't something which we do anymore is it?" I heard a scoff trip out his lips. He came towards me and left a metre gap between us. Getting uncomfortable I started, "You know it's normally nice for you to explain..."

Mid-sentence he cut me off, "Okay baby. I do not have a clue about how I am supposed to say this." He used the moment I looked away as an excuse to come close to me. Trying to back up I ended up leaning against the counter, dead-end.