How It's Said

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Anna’s POV

　

　

Two months later…

　

Sliding the lock closed, I take refuge in the small powder room. I lean against the closed door and take a deep breath. Peace. For now, in this single moment, I have peace. In the past two months I’ve discovered a lot about Eric. Days can be good or bad, and his mood swings are strong and frequent. I’ve yet to discover what his triggers are, but whatever they are, there are a lot of them. We can be sitting down to a quite meal and he can turn into a raging inferno for no apparent reason.

His mood also determines what he demands of me. If he’s in a pissy, the world is my enemy type of mood, then I have to dress in scanky clothing and do some sort of task for him. If he’s in a good mood, then we can sit and have dinner or watch TV. I don’t get to choose which Eric I get, but whichever one I get is a regular asshole. He’s demanding and controlling no matter which mood he’s in. He likes things his way and if it isn’t done his way, well, you’d better duck for cover.

Rubbing my forehead, I step away from the door and towards the sink. I lay my clutch down onto the counter top and look at my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed, my hair a mess, and my neck is covered in love bites, once again.

I look claimed. Thoroughly claimed.

Opening my clutch, I pull out the lipstick tube of concealer. I lay that on the counter along with powder. Using my hands, I gently rub my neck, trying to get the blood flow moving once again. I hope to God that the dark purple bruise lightens somewhat. There is no way I can hide this big of a hickey from his parents.

Why does Eric always do this?

After a few minutes I wet my neck with a wash cloth to give me a clean surface to apply the concealer. I place small dabs at the center of the bruise, then at the corners. I slowly work the pale color from the inside out, trying to dab the color in instead of rubbing it in. I don’t want to rub and abrade the skin. It’s make my skin even angrier.

I rinse my hands in the sink, deciding that’s the best it’s going to be. The skin is slightly pink instead of purple, which is an improvement.

Grabbing the powder concealer, I start to dab that on top of the cream concealer.

In the past few months I’ve gotten rather good at concealing hickies. For some reason Eric likes to place his “claim” on me. Like a dark purple bruise on my neck will let people know I’m taken.

I shake my head, trying to not think about Eric’s crazy ways. Right now I need to fix myself up and sneak back downstairs to the party without getting caught in a corner by Eric. We haven’t had sex yet, but not for lack of trying on Eric’s part. If it were up to him we’d be fucking every hour of every day. I can handle kissing. I can handle him touching my breasts, sucking my nipples, and rubbing everything from there to my toes, but I can’t handle sex. Not yet.

I may be a virgin and I may want Eric more than I’ve wanted any guy before, but I’m not willing to go all the way. Not until after this deal with Eric is over. I want to be more to him than an easy lay. I want to have sex with him because he likes me, really likes me.

I cap my lipstick, swiping a finger nail along my lip line to remove excess lipstick. Tossing my makeup items into my clutch I snap it closed. I sweep my hair back into place, and confirm that all bobby pins are in their proper place before unlocking the bathroom door and sweeping out of the room.