Unfeeling Bitch (Fiction, Grace – Part 1)

The door slammed behind him as he stormed outside. Grace saw him through the window as he paused to light his cigarette on the porch before walking to his truck, kicking the tire as hard as he could and then climbing in.

Grace wondered if she should follow him – beg his forgiveness, possibly grovel at his feet – but no, she had felt the tears start to well up and had kept them down this long. She needed to let them out; she could hardly contain them and she needed him not to see.

Instead of running out the door, grasping his pant leg and begging him to stay, she watched his truck back out of the driveway. When she was sure he couldn’t see her anymore; she dropped to her knees in the middle of the living room and started sobbing.

Bitch, Wade thought as he turned the corner. These arguments were happening all too often nowadays. He took a long drag of his cigarette, hoping the nicotine would calm him down… No. No immediate effect. He might need three or four after this conflict.

He hit the steering wheel as hard as he could with the palm of his hand as he let out a scream of frustration.

“GODDAMMIT!” He raged and then hit the steering wheel again. I need a fucking drink, he thought so he turned down 1st street so he could head into town and go to his favorite bar. Maybe Brian and Jake would still be there. Maybe hanging with the boys would help him chill out. As long as Tim wasn’t there, it’d be ok.

The thought of Tim made him beat on his steering wheel even more. He just knew that Grace and Tim were fucking. He just knew it. Why won’t she just fucking admit it?! His mind screamed. He thought about just being done with her. He thought about what an unfeeling bitch she was. She never cried, she never apologized convincingly. If she would just apologize maybe we could make it work… But, no, she’s made it worse by lying…

He parked his truck on the street outside of Joey’s Bar and Grill, threw his cigarette butt out the window and reached for his pack to grab another. He beat the pack against his palm and then pulled out a cigarette. Tossing the pack aside, he put the fresh one in his mouth and lit it. One long drag and… Ah, that’s better. Almost calm now. Only a two cigarette fight this time, he thought. Maybe I need to smash something every time. Certainly would save me money on tobacco.

Back at Grace’s house, her sobbing was slowing down. She was gulping for air, trying to stop the flow of tears. She pulled herself up to a sitting position and glanced towards the kitchen. Glass all over the floor from where Wade had thrown his glass of bourbon at her.

She picked herself up and went to the kitchen to start cleaning up – he’d be annoyed if he actually did come back and saw this mess still here. Reaching out to grab the dust pan, she noticed her arm was bleeding from where glass must have ricocheted back at her from the wall. Fresh tears started flowing as she set the dustpan back down so she could go to the bathroom and attend to her wound first. The bruise on her left bicep was only just starting to fade from when he grabbed her and shook her the week before.

I wish I had slept with Tim, she thought bitterly. Then maybe all this fighting would be worth it.

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11 Comments

  1. Pingback: Regret (Fiction) | I Will Not Live in Vain

  2. Pingback: “He’s Here” (Fiction, Grace – Part 3) | I Will Not Live in Vain

  3. Pingback: “I’ll fucking kill you, man.” (Fiction, Grace – Part 4) | I Will Not Live in Vain

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