The Other Man [Book One]

Chapter 34 - Power & Control

Two things happened.

I told Will about the job.

He found out about the tattoo.

What followed was an almighty row unlike any we'd ever had before, becoming almost physical. Normally, we didn't fight. We usually just had an intense conversation then dished out long periods of the silent treatment. This was a full scale shouting match over me going against his instructions and getting a job. He'd told me I was to tell Celia that I couldn't take the job, that I was to call her first thing on Monday and tell her thanks but no thanks. Once upon a time, I'd have folded and agreed - anything for an easier life - but the rage from seeing Harry with someone else was still fuelling me.

Trying to stay calm, I lowered my voice and spoke each word clearly and slowly. "I am not turning it down."

Will was furious, his mouth a thin line and his neck red. While I wasn't backing down, I also wasn't quite ready to cross the line. That was, until he followed me upstairs and refused to leave while I changed so he could keep his barrage of insistence. I'd kept my back hidden away him, pulling off my strappy vest top and standing in my bra as he ranted on.

Suddenly, he stopped, and I realised he was looking at the reflection in the mirrored chest of drawers, directly at the tattoo I'd gotten away with hiding for so long.

Pointing his finger, he hissed, "What is that?" Moving towards me quickly before I had the chance to quickly cover the anchor with a shirt, he grabbed my arm. "Did you-" He turned me around and I could practically hear the fury rise in him, bubbling up until he shouted close my ear, "-DID YOU GET A FUCKING TATTOO?"

I flinched and pulled away from his pinching grip, my bicep red and aching, while I waited for whatever was coming next. As usual, he started spewing names and vitriol about what a trashy whore I was and that all the money in the world would never cover or wash away the scum from my veins. He came close, his face in mine, and I tried to remain stoic as he screamed in my face.

"ONCE THE DAUGHTER OF A SMACKHEAD, ALWAYS THE DAUGHTER OF A SMACKHEAD!"

He'd always go there - it was my Achilles heel and he knew it. I had spent my entire adult life so far trying to get away from my upbringing; I dropped the Scouse accent as soon as I left Liverpool. I was in a constant internal struggle that those I was close with would abandon and leave me. I was terrified that something would happen and I would end up like my mother. Will knew this. I'd confessed it all to him, and while he was surprisingly understanding, he also didn't hesitate to throw it in my face when we argued. That was why I never crossed the line, why I always backed down. He didn't even need to raise his voice. All he had to do was say something about everything I was terrified about, and he knew I'd buckle and cry. He'd win, and I would spend the rest of the night trying to talk myself down from a crippling panic attack.