Page 11 of Clash

She stayed quiet.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

In the meekest voice I’d ever heard, she whispered, “Don’t worry about it. I’m used to it.”

My heart clenched, realizing I made her feel like she was back with her ex again. How do I make up for that? It’s obvious she’s scared as hell of me now, and there was nothing I could do to fix it.

We ate the rest of the meal in silence, but I noticed she was sitting up a little straighter and there were legit tears forming in her eyes.

Good job, Clash. You upset an already broken woman. Way to go, asshole.

5

I knew Clash wasn’t trying to be an asshole. His gesture of buying us clothes actually warmed my heart to him more. But the second he yelled at me, flashbacks of Eric came full force, and I instantly went back into frightened housewife mode.

Make sure the house stays clean.

Only cook four course meals.

No boxed mac and cheese.

Always have your pussy ready.

Take the punch.

Don’t let Alex see.

Protect him always.

It was like rapid fire, the words cycling through my head, reminding me to be the doting and always helpful wife.

But this wasn’t Louisiana, and he wasn’t Eric. I shouldn’t have so obediently sat in the chair and picked up the fork, but his boisterous voice frightened me, bringing me back to a world I was accustomed to.

After eating, my stomach felt sick. I rushed up to the bathroom and spewed out everything in my stomach, the rich food getting to me.

I felt a massive hand curl behind my neck, and I instantly tensed up, knowing what came next… choking. But the choking didn’t come. Instead, Clash pulled back my hair, holding it for me as I finished vomiting in his perfectly clean toilet.

“I’ll clean up after myself,” I replied weakly between wretches.

“Don’t worry about it.” There was a long pause before he spoke. “You pregnant?”

Was I? Shit! When was the fucking last time I had a period? When was the last time I had sex?I thought back to my time with Eric, realizing it was over a month ago that he last touched me. He had me beg for it, telling me that an ugly hag like me needed to beg to have anyone touch her. Eric always made sure I knew how lucky I was to have him. How I should be thanking God for being married to him.

“I don’t know.” My body shuddered at the thought, hoping I wasn’t about to bring another child into this world that carried that monster’s DNA. “I hope not.”

I hoped that my illness was due to my lack of nourishment and not because I was carrying the Devil’s child inside of me once again.

“Stay here,” Clash instructed, quickly leaving the room.

I heard his front door open and close, and then his bike start up outside.Where the hell is he going?

Ten minutes later, my body weak and exhausted from throwing up, I fell down next to his toilet, using the wall behind it to keep me propped up while I awaited his return.

He entered the bathroom with a brown bag in hand, throwing it at my feet. “Figure it out,” he grumbled before exiting the room.

Lethargically, I reached for the bag, pulling out the at home pregnancy test from inside of it.

Where did this man come from? And why was he being so nice to me?