Page 16 of Breaking Sanity

“How did you get rid of those mental blocks over the years,” I ask.

“I just did,” she replies.

Interesting.

“Care to elaborate,” I say.

“Care to elaborate on your last answer to my question?”

“No.”

“Well, I think you know my answer then.”

“Why do you fight?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why do you feel the need to constantly fight?”

“I’ve always been combative. I don’t like being told what to do. It’s my life, my choice.”

“Fair,” I concede. “Were you happy at your wedding?”

“Yes,” she answers, staring out the window.

“Now, now” I tisk. “We haven’t lied to each other so far, let’s not start now. Try again.”

“Just because you don’t like my answer, doesn’t mean it isn’t true,” she snaps back.

“You looked so sad, uncomfortable, and at times robotic. Plus, your dress made you look like a marshmallow and it wasn’t black, which I found strange.”

“You’ve been stalking me this whole time?!”

“I was observing from a distance.”

“That’s the definition of stalking!”

“No, the definition of stalking is pursuing stealthily. I am not to be blamed if you are oblivious to your surroundings. Now answer the question.”

“Regardless of my awareness or lack of, it’s still the same fucking thing. I already answered your question. Ask your last one.”

“Fine, after his funeral, where did you run off to for three days?”

“You’re the stalker, so you tell me.”

“Again, not stalking, just observing. Despite your high opinion of yourself, you aren’t the center of my world. So, I am genuinely curious. Where did you go?”

I needed to collect another contract after the funeral had ended, but when I came back to check on her, she had vanished. Not even her work knew where she was. It’s not normal for her. Plus she doesn’t do drugs or really ever drinks, but grief affects everyone differently. I mean she lost her grandfather causing her to act irrationally and jump into a serial killer’sbed. Although, her ex had also contributed to that as well, but I am not complaining.

“A place,” she snorts and turns away.

“That’s not an answer, Little Devil,” I warn, starting to grind my molars together.

“Actually, itisan answer that I do not wish to elaborate on,” she states matter of factly, her words dripping with sarcasm. “You, dear ‘master’,are out of questions.”

The amount of sarcasm she has in her voice when she says master, makes me want to choke her again, but I refrain. She already has started to bruise from the seat belt and the amount of times I have tried to strangle her in the last 24 hours. I’ll leave it be for now. Instead, I turn the radio up as “Surrender” by Godsmack blares through the speakers.

“What no choking,” she asks, reaching over and turning the volume down.