Page 44 of Asylum

I want her to come to me.

Beg me for it.

My patience is wearing thin, and I honestly don’t know how men handle this shit. Always initiating sex. It’s exhausting. With everything I’ve done for her, you’d think she’d bow at my feet, her body at my disposal anytime I want.

Fucking women.

The lobotomy was supposed to cure the unappealing bits of her personality, instead it’s created new ones. Sometimes I find myself missing the violent little thing who stood toe to toe with anyone, including me.

I guess the past has a way of coming back to haunt us.

I pulled into the driveway about ten minutes ago, and I’m surprised she hasn’t come outside yet. She usually meets me atthe door, says she can hear me when I pull up. Rubbing at my temples, I tell myself this woman was meant for me, no matter how obnoxious she is at times.

She’s beautiful, fiery, and while she may fray my last nerve some days, others I don’t want to live without her.

Maybe I’m just irritable because my cock is being neglected.

A month without her tight cunt wrapped around me is too long.

Opening the car door, I grab my briefcase, one that she thinks belongs to a successful lawyer. I cross the yard, climbing the steps onto the porch. As I open the door, an old record plays, and a smile tugs at my lips knowing she’s been into my collection.

Turning the corner into the kitchen, I stop dead in my tracks. She’s wearing the tiniest pair of shorts I’ve ever seen, accompanied by a tight-fitted tank top. Her hair is pulled up into a messy bun, her bare feet sporting hot pink toenail polish she asked me to pick up a few days ago on my way home. She’s swaying back and forth with the music, stirring something in a pot that smells incredible. I’ve been teaching her how to cook.

The smile quickly disappears as reality sinks in.

If I stay in this room any longer, I’ll say or do something I may regret.

She chooses this particular moment to spin around, giving me a bright, genuine smile. “Hey you.”

I nod. “Lilly.”

She places the cooking utensil on the stove top, taking a few steps in my direction. “I hope you’re hungry.”

She’s so hopeful. So clueless about the kind of man I truly am. I told myself I could live this life, be a loving and dutiful husband. But in this moment, all I want to do is throw her onto the floor and fuck her brains out.

What’s left of it.

Her smile falls. “Are you okay?”

I’m torn between the man I’m pretending to be, and the man I am.

The man she despises.

“I’ve had a long day. I’m going to my bedroom. Goodnight, Lilly.”

She rushes forward, her hand gripping my forearm. The connection sends a lightning bolt straight to my cock, and I need to get as far away from her as possible before Itakewhat I want.

“Do you want to talk-”

“No.” My tone is harsh, and she retreats a few steps.

She looks heartbroken, and a part me takes joy in her pain.

I always have.

Her eyes become glassy, and I begin to walk away before I have to witness one of her fucking crying fits again.

After tossing and turning for hours, I still can’t go to sleep.