Post by annie abagnale on Mar 1, 2011 9:57:53 GMT -7
[/sub]sunlight streams through the partially open blinds, the light filtering through the stale air of our bedroom. for a moment, i'm disoriented, not completely sure of my surroundings. there's nobody beside me. the bed is empty - but still warm. i can hear the distant sound of running water and i know theodore is in the shower. i hazard a glance at the clock, both confused and annoyed by how early it is. with the knowledge that it is not yet noon, i slump back into bed, tugging the cool sheets more snugly around my body, but it isn't the same. there's a tension in the room that i can't quite put my finger on. it's there, though. whether it's just part of my return to the house or something more, i'm not sure, but it keeps me from sleep. i am restless, a deep, indescribable feeling urging me to do something, anything, but again, i am unsure of what.
the excitement - or is it anxiety? - drives me out of bed and to my feet. the plush carpet sinks beneath me as i pad about the room, a shirt of theo's haphazardly thrown over my broad shoulders, my hair falling over my back in its usual tangle of strawberry blonde. everything is the same as it always has been, not a single object out of place, but there's still a sense of dissimilarity within the room. this is not just our bedroom, i know, but a place of ecstasy for a dozen other girls that theo has brought home. this thought alone makes me sick and as i move toward our closet, an article of clothing catches my eye. it is so discreetly hidden that for a moment, i think i've imagined it. when i look again, though, it is still there. the garish fuchsia of the dress stands out in stark contrast against the crisp white of the shirt that is meant to be hiding it.
i am livid.
in a blind rage, or something similar, i throw off the garment shrouding my shoulders in favour of an old tee shirt of my own. even after throwing the offensive article of clothing to the ground, though, i can still smell his familiar cologne. for a moment, i feel like crying, but that desire is immediately taken over by the urge to scream. i don't, though, and instead, snatch up the carrying bag i've used the past times i've left the house in a frenzy. clothes are tossed inside, along with other necessities. i'm halfway through tugging a pair of jeans over my slim hips when theodore ambles out of the washroom, completely at ease, steam streaming past the door frame. the way he looks, a towel slung low across his hips, hits me like a freight train. as much as i want to hate him, i can't. just like harley has said, it's not that easy.
however, my anger is still extreme, and immediately, i am shouting at him. vile words escape my lips, but he's right there, shouting right back at me. i can hear his denials, his insistences that i'm overreacting, but i hardly acknowledge him. i'm still shouting - although, i'm sure my words are coming out jumbled and indecipherable - as i swing my bag over my shoulder.
"you disgusting pig."
those are the last words out of my mouth as i move past him and out of our bedroom. for the first time in a long, long time, i feel trapped - as if the world is collapsing around me. this is nothing like i could have ever imagined.
