Psychological Affairs

Chapter Forty-One: Not In The Mood

Chris’ POV

Quiet. Quiet. Quiet. That’s how the rest of the day went. I picked Michael up, brought her to my house, and found myself being ignored. What did I do?, I thought. She won’t tell. She won’t even tell me about her therapy sessions either. As days get older, it’s more about sex, sex, and more sex. I understood of her wanting our old relationship, but sex was never our way of communicating. It just gets so tiring—her with her endless libido and me, coming home from work. I sighed, taking in the whole situation. It’s worth a try.

I walked into my room where she was laying in bed, studying her textbook. She had this huge scowl on her face, deepening with every minute. I crawled onto the bed behind her, but she didn’t even bother acknowledging my prescence. I moved in closer to her and wrapped my left arm around her. She stopped highlighting, but ignored me still. I pressed my body close to her, nuzzling my neck inbetween the space from where her jaw and shoulder met. I slowly kissed her shoulder, getting lost into the mango scent of her hair. 

“Mmmmmm..” I moaned.

“Chrissss, stop….” She said, turning over.

I grinned, leaning in to kiss her. Her guard dropped for a split second until I felt something hard go against my face. My back fell onto the hardwood floor as I groan in pain. I heard and felt a huge thud on the ground. I rubbed my palm over my cheek and gripped onto the bed so I could stand up. I stood up, hand on cheek, and stared at Mike. Her eyes were full of rage—dark and wide. I would be lying to say that I wasn’t scared.

“I told you to stop! You don’t fucking listen!” She barked at me.

I slowly stepped back while she went on her tirade. Her hair was sticking up and wild and her face was red—blood red. It was like looking at Satan himself and honestly, it was scaring me.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” She said, getting more and more irrational.

I couldn’t even speak, I just shook my head violently. Apparently, that hadn’t worked because she was coming closer and closer to me.

“No, you’re looking at me some type of way. What is it? You wanna hit me? Is that it? Go on then. Go and hit me!” She practically yelled.

I don’t even know what she’s talking about. She kept coming closer which made me more and more afraid. My eyes shifted to the open bathroom door, planning my future move. I quickly ran into it, slamming the door and locking it before she held onto the door knob and began violently assualting it. My eyes grew wider at the thought. My heart rate was a million beats per second; it was ridiculous. I stepped back from the door and hunched over the white sink to check my face. It was red and there was a small, but open cut in the middle. 

Michael’s POV

I kicked the door with my right foot until it ached. I eventually fell onto the ground due to my loss of balance. Enraged wouldn’t be the right word for it. I curled myself into fetal position, crying into my knees, making my salty emotions go up my thighs. Hurt. Ashamed. Terrified. I cried even harder, digging my nails on the sides of my knees. I got out of the position and began to bang on the door. 

One. Bang! Two. Bang! Three. Bang! Four. Bang! Five. Bang!

My wrists and heart—in unison—ached in pain. 

Six. Bang! Seven. Bang! Eight. Bang! Nine. Bang! Ten. BANG! BANG! BLAUW!

“DON’T IGNORE ME!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

“PLEASE DON’T IGNORE ME!” I added.

My vocal cords already hurt from the stress and strain I was putting them through. I could feel them weaken as I screamed.