You don't need to botherWe are toe to toe, hands to hands, fingers knitted, eyes focused, foreheads pressed together and he pushes me right across the polished tiles of the kitchen floor and into the hall.
I don't need to be
I'll keep slipping farther
But once I hold on
I won't let go 'til it bleeds
Ben thinks this a riot.
What part?
That I'm angry.
Ben doesn't understand the fuss, maybe.
Do you? Jesus! Do either one of you see how fucked up this is? GARGHHH! I can't STAND this.
Loch. Stop it. I wait for him to get control of his fury. He drags his hands down his face and focuses on me and I can continue. There's no room here for judgement, especially from you.
Oh but there is. Especially where the Devil is concerned!
PJ comes to the door, every inch house enforcement. Princess protection detail. Care, in bearded form. You okay, Bridge?
Lochlan whirls around on him. Jesus, Padraig! She doesn't need protection from ME. If you want to be useful you should have stuck around New Year's Eve when the vultures set about her!
PJ reddens and turns away, saying nothing. I jump back into the fray. Jesus, Loch! Leave him alone!
Maybe he wants in! Maybe I'm the only one with any common sense anymore, baby!
Instead of standing up to him, I shrink like a violet in hot water. I feel very small suddenly and not very powerful. Just very ashamed. I don't like it when anyone makes me feel that way. I shut down, stop talking, stop meeting his eyes.
Aw, Jesus, Bridge, I'm sorry. He pulls me into the front of his shirt and I disappear against the flannel, blending in with the plaid. Shutting down because it's Lochlan yelling at me and all I ever wanted and all I ever seem to fight against is his approval and the moment I step out of his control he can't handle it. I put my head up against his cheek as he bows his head down and I wrap my arms around his neck.
I'm sorry, Locket. I don't mean to hurt you.
Do you do it for Ben? Is that what it is?
Oh God. The rage, it's emanating off him in waves.
I wait long and hard to answer that question, weighing the truth against an easy way out. And then I give him my answer. He has to accept it because he knows it's the truth and he knows that I would never hurt him intentionally. He doesn't let go. He doesn't cast me away and hurry out the door. He doesn't yell anymore or admonish me or try and force me to bend back the other way, he just holds on as tight as ever.
Abruptly he pulls away, looking down at me, reaching up to smooth away the hair in my eyes (fucking bangs). He laughs so ruefully. You age me, Peanut. And you're not ever going to do that again.
I age myself, Locket. And you don't get to decide these things.
Like hell I don't. You've been through enough. It's done.