The door opened around one a.m. and my nerves shot up. I had expected Bradley to be home about two hours ago which only spiked my anxiety when he didn't show.
I tried sitting still but I ended up pacing in front of the bed before he came in the room. Was I doing the right thing? Or was this just going to damage me more?
When Bradley walked into the room, tugging his shoes off, he looked surprised. "You're still awake?" he said, his blue eyes startled. He tugged off the white shirt he had on, throwing it near the hamper. I clenched my jaw, knowing he would expect me to pick that up and if I didn't, it would be my fault the room was dirty.
"I-." I honestly didn't know what to say. I couldn't sleep? I don't think we have a healthy relationship?
"I thought you didn't feel good?" he asked with a slight edge to his voice.
"I didn't but-."
"Why are you still up?" An accusatory look glinted in his eyes.
I stared at him, remembering the person I fell in love with. The person who convinced me he wanted to take care of me.
He'd bring me coffee from Corner Brew to brighten my day. Sneak me into his building to show me how producing works. Buy little odds and ends of décor that didn't really match our theme but he was proud he contributed.
"Kimber?"
His voice jolted me out of my reverie, and I said the first thing that comes to mind. "We're not who we used to be."
"What?"
God, I needed a smoke.
"We don't act like we use to act."
His eyes narrowed. "What is that supposed to mean?"
I licked my lips, not sure where I was going and what exactly to say. "You've changed," I said before also adding, "I've changed."
"That's what people do, Kimber. They grow."
I bit my lip, knowing he was avoiding what I was saying. There was no way he didn't see it, too. Or was he blind to the way he acted. Did he think the way he treated me was acceptable? Normal? The hollowness inside my chest ached as I stared at him.
"If we've grown," I chose my next words carefully, "then we've grown in the wrong way."
He completely froze, glaring at me as if daring me to say anything else. "Are you saying I haven't treated you right?"
My lips curled into my mouth and I bit down on them. That's exactly what I was saying.
Bradley's eyes lit up with malice and he took a step towards me. I held my ground even though I wanted to take multiple steps back.
"How haven't I treated you right, huh? I let you stay home for months on end because you were mentally not capable of working. I let you work on your make believe worlds and pretend like you're going to get anywhere with it. I allow you to be friends with Heather even though she is not good for you. I have done nothing but treat you right."
My mouth fell open. I thought that was something that only happened in cartoons or movies, but my jaw was open. I couldn't seem to close it.
"Are you serious?" I finally said. "You made me stay home and convinced me I didn't need a job. You cooped me up in this apartment."
"You were broken because of your family."
"I was healing," I said, stepping closer to him, fire running through my veins. "And my worlds may be make believe but I was going to work on those whether you let me or not. That's what I want to do. How would you feel if I said you couldn't be a producer anymore?"
"My job actually brings in money, sweetheart. I don't see any from your writing. It's not the same thing."
Tears pricked my eyes. I didn't realize how little he believed in me. I knew he didn't care much about my writing but I just thought-. I was naive.
"It is the same thing. It's my passion. It's something I love to do. Just like you love to produce or whatever."
"Just face it, Kimber. You're writing is never going to be published. It was a failed venture from the start."
The tears that were filling my eyes started slipping down my face. I was mad at myself for crying like this. I was hurt and frustrated but I knew Bradley only saw it as a weakness. He thought he was going to win. All men were the same. The second they saw their significant other crying they knew they could manipulate them. And Bradley was close to manipulating me.
"No, it's not." I shake my head, anger coursing through me. "Just watch. One day, I'll be on the New York Best Seller's list and you'll see you're wrong."
He rolled his eyes and raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, fine. I'll see."
"And what do you mean you allow me to be friends with Heather? You don't get to decide who my friends are."
"Heather's a bad influence. She puts thoughts in your head that's only going to hurt you in the future. She doesn't have your best interest at heart," he said, leaving the room.
I think she's the only one who has my best interest at heart.
I follow behind him, not wanting him to get the upper hand in any way. He opens the fridge, washing the kitchen white with the light, and grabs a water. I don't know why but that infuriates me even more. He acts like we're having a casual conversation when I'm losing my crap over here.
He points to one of the picture we have of us on the fridge, smiling slightly. It was from when we first moved in together. He was sitting in the love seat and I was draped across his lap, arms around his neck. I looked happy.
That was all we used to need.
I tore my eyes from the picture, ignoring the knot in my throat. He was trying to distract me. He wanted me to see the picture and remember. Bradley had used that tactic before.
"You can't tell me what to do," I said while he drank his water. He only rolls his eyes. "You can't tell me who I can't be friends with. You can't demand I go out with you. You can't tell me I can't drink."
He shook his head at the last one. "You come from a family of drug addicts. I'm looking out for you. Do you want to go off the deep end like your dad?"
My stomach tightens at the mention of my dad. I don't talk about him often and Bradley knows that. It makes me sick to think about him.
"I've been drinking since I was seventeen. Almost ten years. I am not an alcoholic and I don't need or want anything stronger."
"Keep telling yourself that."
I clenched my fists. He knew nothing about addiction or dysfunctional families. He came from perfect upper New York family with old money. The word addiction was foreign to them.
"I can't do this anymore," I said, my voice full of defeat.
"I know, baby," Bradley said, coming towards me. "It's okay."
"No," I took a step back from him, "I can't do this anymore. I'm done."
His false concerned expression quickly dissipates and one of anger replaces it. "Done with what?"
I swallowed harshly, afraid to say it. "You."
His eyes darken but before he can respond, I'm in the living room and going through the coat closet. The tightness in my throat spreads to my chest and my legs until my entire body feels numb.
"Me?"
I pull my suitcase from where I hid it in the closet, finally getting it free from underneath all the jackets.
I had a feeling this was where the night was going. When he wasn't home within thirty minutes of me being home, I packed my suitcase. Everything I could fit in one bag. A very large bag that is but still. It wasn't everything.
"I'm done, Bradley. You put me down and use me. I can't do it anymore. We're done." My voice waivered just a bit but I pray he didn't hear it.
"You're insane," he shook his head. "You're crazy. I've done everything for you. And this is how you're going to repay me. You're a horrible person if you think this is okay."
My throat tightened even more, my stomach clenching. But I couldn't give in to him anymore.
"Bye, Bradley."
I didn't let him get another word in as I walked out the door, calling Heather. I hurried to the elevator, dragging my suitcase behind me as the phone rang. I had a feeling he was going to follow me. Demand I stay. I saw the door to the apartment open just as the elevator doors closed.
"What's up, babes?" Heather's voice filtered through the phone, sounding sleepy.
A sob broke through my lips and I cursed myself. I was trying so hard to hold it together. So hard.
"What happened?" her voice changed sounding far more serious and awake now.
"I-I need to-to stay with you," I said, talking between sobs.
"Of course, babes. You wanna tell me what happened?"
"No, I need to get-get myself together. I'll be there in-in fifteen minutes," I said, trying to calm my sobs.
"Okay, I'll be waiting for you. Be safe."
"I will," I said before hanging up.
The doors opened and I quickly walked outside and hailed a taxi. I kept checking over my shoulder, scared Bradley would appear and drag me back upstairs.
Thankfully, a taxi pulled over. I shoved my suitcase into the trunk and climbed into the backseat, giving him the address to Heather's apartment.
I had calmed my crying, only a few tears slipping down but that didn't mean the aching in my chest went away. It hurt. A lot. My breathes were short and my throat was way too tight.
My phone lit up, buzzing. Bradley's name was displayed across the top and I ignored it. He immediately called me again and I ignored it. This went on for the next five calls and my stomach grew more and more sick.
Heather's apartment building came into view and relief flooded my system. I don't think I've ever gotten out of a cab that quickly, wanting nothing other than the comfort of my best friend. Her apartment was unlocked and I knew she left it unlocked specifically for me. I stumbled inside, dropping my suitcase on the floor, startling Heather who was sitting on the armchair. Before she could acknowledge my presence, I crumbled into a ball on the floor.