Page 65 of Fractured
My tone is flat, but I mean every word. “Isn’t that what you intended? Isn’t that what obedient prisoners do? Stay where you put them?”
Black Pawn to A1. It’s a slow dance, each of us adapting, looking for a weakness.
I can hear him audibly taking a deep breath. He’s sucking up enough air to rip me a new ass.
“You are not a fucking prisoner. You’re making yourself one by locking yourself in this goddamn room day after fucking day. So, get your ass down to the dining room and have fucking dinner. It’s sitting there waiting for you getting cold.”
White pawn to A3
Finally, my anger snaps, and I can’t take it anymore. I turn on him with my hands fisted at my side, my eyebrows creased together, and I glare at him.
“Fine, you want me to eat? I’ll fucking eat!” I yell and storm past him as I exit my bedroom and walk down the hall. I can hear him yelling my name behind me, but I don’t give a shit. He wants me to eat. I’ll bloody well eat.
Black Bishop to E7
I get to the bottom of the stairs and turn towards the dining room. Slam the door open, pulling out the chair, slamming it to the ground. I sit down, whipping the dome off the plate and toss it across the table with a loud clang. I grab my fork, put my napkin in my lap and just start shoving food in my face.
I can hear him storming down the stairs as his shoes echoed off the marble floor as he approaches the dining room. The door is just swinging back as he slams it open again and it hits the wall. He comes in and stands behind his chair at the head of the table. His hands on his hips, glaring at me like I’m a bloody toddler.
I don’t look up at him, I just keep shoving food in my mouth, I don’t even really chew it, I just swallow.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
White pawn to A4, it’s a simple move.
My mouth is full, I mumble around it. “Nothing.”
I fork another mouthful of mashed potatoes in and swallow. Cutting the chicken into large chunks, I ram it into my mouth to the side of my cheek and chew. As I reach for the water pitcher, I swallow that and pour myself a glass. Grabbing the fork again, I stuff more mashed potatoes into my face.
I swallow and hold my gag reflex back, but if he wants me to eat?I’ll bloody well eat.
I scrape the last of the mashed potatoes and the last piece of chicken onto my fork and ram it in, chew and grab my glass ofwater and swallow it. The only thing I didn’t finish on my plate was the vegetables.
I wipe my mouth and toss my napkin on my plate. Tossing the fork on the table, it skitters to the other side and falls off. I stand up and look him in the eyes, saying.
“There. I fucken ate.”
Black Knight to D7. Fuck you, Mr. Russo.
I turn and head towards the door, pulling it open. Once I’m back in my room to throw this up for sure. I don’t even know if I’m going to make it to the top of the stairs and I don’t even know why I did it, but he made me so mad.
“Isabella. Stop!” He bellows after me.
I don’t. I keep going. Even though he is treating me like one, I am not a bloody dog. I make it to the second landing and grab the banister, holding my stomach. I can hear him coming up the stairs, so I just keep moving forward.
“Isabella, I said stop this instant.” He’s screaming now. His voice bounces off the hallway, and I’m pretty sure everyone in that house has heard us.
White Knight to C2.
I give him the finger over my shoulder as I head into my room and shut the door in his face. He slams his hand on the door, which makes it shake on its hinges. I run to the bathroom and get there just in time to get sick. Why did I do it? I lost my temper, and, as usual, I’m paying for it now. He needs to go to his club and stop bothering me.
My temples hurt now, and I sit back on the cold tile and hold my head. Why does everything have to end in so much anger and drama? I have every right to ask if I can keep my job. This is my bloody job? It’s not like I asked for Starbucks or a PS4? It’s my life!
I get up, go to the sink, grab a face cloth, and run it under cool water, then hold it to my forehead. There is a light knocking on the bathroom door.
“Isabella?” His voice is much softer but still angry.
I just stare at the door. What more could he want from me right now? I close my eyes and drop my head between my shoulders in exhaustion. Looking over at the door, at least he hasn’t tried to open it, so that’s something, I guess.
