WARNING: Please note that younger and sensitive readers are advised not to read this story, as it deals with adult themes, subjects and contains strong language. Thank you.
They were in a friend’s car, in the back seat, pulling up at a supermarket car park one Saturday morning.
It was too early for the usual throng of Saturday shoppers to be surging about and filling the car park, so they were rather alone.
More words came forth from her lips that were not maligned nor detrimental, but they were twisted and contorted by the time they reached his brain and he grew angry again.
The friend who drove the large, lumbering car was with his fiancée in the front, quietly and awkwardly witnessing the altercation in the back. They uncomfortably exchanged worried glances, but remained silent.
“I fucking hate you, you ugly fucking slag”.
With that, he disappeared out of the car and stomped off across the car park, his granite face chiselled with deep lines of anger.
She sat, watching helplessly, her brain dumb and her mouth closed as she struggled to figure out what to do or what to say to make him come back.
“I love you” or “I’m sorry” didn’t work now and when they did, it had been during the brief slips of the mask during the initial love-bombing stage. Or, of course her bank card was needed or his stomach needed filling or his groin needed relief or he had a friend or family member to impress by dangling her off his arm… She had her uses after all.
She turned her attention to their friend, her own pain and misery pushed aside.
What must they think of him? There was goodness in him… somewhere maybe… she was so sure…
“I’m so, so sorry” she began quickly, the old apologies and excuses automatically pouring forth from her. “He is never normally like this; he’s just having a bad time of it. He doesn’t mean it. It was my fault, I –“
Her words were cut down dead with the look of disbelief on her friend’s face.
“He” said the friend, nodding in the direction of the angry, fuming black leather jacket clad apparition, storming off into the distance, “is your fiancé”.
She nodded in agreement, hoping he wouldn’t speak the truth that she already knew, way deep down.
“He should treat you like a princess and have you on a pedestal. He treats you like shit. All the time. I can barely remember a time when he didn’t. He talks to you like dirt constantly. Why do you put up with it?”
Her eyes met his and her mouth was rendered dumb once more.
Eventually, she murmured some sort of agreement, feeling like she was betraying her fiancé somehow.
The friend exchanged a concerned and sad look with his own fiancée, shaking his head.
“You shouldn’t put up with the way he treats you. Stop making excuses for him all the time. If you were my fiancée, I wouldn’t dream of treating you like that” he continued, but the realisation that the friend was fighting a losing battle was dawning on him.
The friend sighed, shaking his head once more, whilst she knotted her fingers in front of her, looking like a child being chastised.
“Just put your happiness first for a change. It is obvious that he hasn’t managed to do it for you yet”.
With that, she accepted a lift home instead, their original plans forgotten.
All the way home, she buried the urge to cry once more, hoping the day would never come when she would be numb to it all.
Hoping that the day would come when he treated her like he did love her, rather than just saying it. Because she never felt it. Not anymore.