I could feel my heart twist into knots. Bruce knew exactly how to get to me, playing with my damn insecurities.
"Other women wear the same clothes as you do, but somehow, only your body makes them look fucking inappropriate!" Bruce snarled. "Just go and put a jacket on to cover yourself, and get in the fucking car."
I turned on my heel, making my way back to my wardrobe to grab a jacket, not wanting to argue anymore. I didn't have the energy. I was mentally tired and exhausted of this shit.
"That's better," Bruce said triumphantly, as I made my way back into the living room with a black jacket on top of my dress. "Now let's go. We're already running late."
I let out a deep sigh, doing my best not to cry. I didn't want to ruin my make-up, and then make myself look like a laughing stock at the ball.
We made our way to the car, and Bruce began to drive down the motorway at full-speed.