Conversations ✔

Anger

"I specifically told you not to enter this room!"

"You told me it was her art in here! What kind of art is this?! Huh?! What's all this?!"

The answer never came. Only loud footsteps indicating his usual approach to problem solving, departure.

"I'm talking to you! What's all this?! You told me you were done with that life! That she was too fragile for it! So tell me what it is I just witnessed!" She screeched and through the thick walls, the other girl heard. Her, the cause of all the shouting.

The footsteps stopped abruptly, "I asked you too damn nicely to not enter that room. I forbid you from going in there. I gave you enough reasons to understand why I told you not to enter the damned room!" His tone was low, angry. "But you never listen, do you? How could I, for the life of me, be rid of her, or that lifestyle, when you cannot simply listen and respect anything I tell you?! She unquestionably does as I say. Undoubtedly trusts me. I cannot say the same for you! You failed to simply not open a damn door I told you to not open! Something that simple!"

"Enough!" Both parties stared at her intrusion. "That's enough, both of you. Sh-"

"Go back to your room." She was cut off, not a single glance spared in respect of her presence.

None of the girls liked that tone, he knew, but it got things done. She stood frozen on the spot, her lips parted with words she wanted to say before being rudely told to return from whence she came.

"Did I stutter? Or are you deaf?" He turned then, his glare not faltering even at her wince from his words.

"No sir." She whispered, retreating. The amount of energy she had felt when she emerged, hoping to squander the quarrel between her lovers, was all gone. Drained by the look he gave her. Never mind the words.

"Don't talk to her like that." She heard a weak voice, almost breaking. It belonged to the one girl whose love she had to fight for. Seeing that she was a stranger in their decade old relationship at that time.

"You! Disobeyed me." His anger was again directed to its origin.

The girl whisper yelled back, "I wanted to clean! She hasn't been in there for weeks! I wanted to make sure your precious little good girl won't encounter dust when she decided to do her ART." The word was emphasised, denoting the lies full in that house.

She was tired of it all. Tired of hearing them argue. Of hearing them yell, only to make up after a few hours.
It was an unending cycle.
They would fight, and she would spend time with them individually, then they would be happy again... together.

Strangely, this girl only seemed to despise her in his presence. When they were alone, she would play fight with her, make food, watch TV, have sex, go shopping, talk about anything and everything. Then he would come and her mood would sour. It was almost like, she preferred spending time with him and her separately.

"Get your hands off me!"

Behind the door, she heard. What was he doing to her? Should she go help?

"I said!"

Yes, she should go help.

"Please, stop! You're hurting her." Her eyes brimmed, nose burned.

"I can fight my own battles, didn't you hear what he said?! Get back to your room!"

Now she was confused. Had she not been the one to say he mustn't talk to her like that?

"Very well." She whispered, but headed in a different direction. She headed towards her art room. And in there, she felt in control.