The man lifted his chin and stared into the dark face. “I told you to stop going there,” the rehearsed rebuke drifted from his mouth. Having been said too many times, it had turned into a plea.
“I thought I told you to stop nagging,” A shrill voice replied.
“I care about you Marissa, what am I supposed to do?” he rubbed his temples and waited. The thunder would come.
“How about the things I ask you to do? Have you thought of that, you dumbass? When have you ever done anything I’ve wanted?” There was the thunder, the warning sign before the sharp bolts of lightning arrived.
“All the time,” he bit his lip. His mind recalled all the moments he had rendered to her will. Had she forgotten them? He knew she hadn’t; she just wanted someone to be the victim of her rage, a person she would make suffer because some event he didn’t know about had made her suffer.
But he had never seen her like this.
“Show me then,” she stormed up to him and grabbed his wrist. He felt her pristine white manicured nails pierce into his pale skin. “Show me,” she whispered viciously.
“Marrisa…” he warned as he began to feel pinpricks of pain.
Her tone took a malicious turn, “What, it hurt Jarad?” The thunder grew louder in his ears.
“Let go,” his voice quavered as he shook his arm, trying to break the hold. She slapped him to stop his efforts. She had never hit him before and a sudden anger over took him. Glaring, he found new strength and pulled his arm firmly away from her. Deep scratch marks were engraved into his forearm. He raised his hand to strike her then stopped. Gulping oxygen into his lungs for control, he lowered them to press the girl’s arms against her body. He pushed her aside and walked away from her.
Each word she spoke affected him like the wind affected the ocean. Every time she spoke a turbulent wave of hurt, anger, hate, and love crashed over him. After years of marriage, he knew he should have built the necessary barriers to protect himself, but he hadn’t.
“What are you going to do? Hurt me?” She accused, “Hurt me, Jarad. Go on, hurt me.” He slumped his shoulders and didn’t move. The girl laughed victoriously. Jarad closed his eyes, trying to block out the sound, but it entered through his ears and slowly descended into the recesses of his chest; his anger ebbed away as a new wave descended, hurt. He loved her, why was she doing this to him? His throat swelled but he refused to look at the creature behind him. He could feel the lightning forming in the air.
Breathing heavily, he walked across the room as his hands ran through his hair to disguise his shaking hands. “I wouldn’t,” Jarad whispered, knowing full well how tempted he had been.
“What would the police say if you did?” she goaded further, “Abuse? Maybe then I’d be free from this hell hole.” She twitched her fingers in agitation and looked about the room wildly. The lightning was close.
“You’re drunk.” His voiced cracked, “Listen to yourself. Why do you always do this to yourself?”
“Yes, yes I am. It’s the only time I feel sane. Look at this place. This whole life is shit. Each day I tolerate it with a small grin and a glass of wine. What a lie.” Then her face changed into an unreadable expression.
“What happened tonight, why are you like this?” Jarad begged. She only shrieked and ran at him. Violence had replaced the last shreds of sense that had inhabited her mind. The lightning had come and all he could do was run.
And so he ran.
Jarad crept behind the nightstand in the far off spare bedroom and held his knees to his chest. He could hear the sound of shattering glass down the hall and feel the silent drip of moisture from his cheeks onto his jeans. His rain would continue to fall as just as long as her lightning would continue to strike. With a locked door protecting him, all he could do was wait out the storm.
