So much for not putting a label on it...but I suppose her breaking my heart will hurt far less than seeing her with someone else. She is mine, let others know she’s mine.
And she is mine, every single fucking inch of her.
32
Sophie
Two days have passed since Roman told me he was never going to let me go, since he told me that I’m his. His words have been running through my mind on replay non-stop and I try to remember them even more when he has one of his mood swings. His moods are so unpredictable, I never know which side of him I’m going to get, and if I’m being honest, it terrifies me.
He goes from blissfully happy to grumpy and irritated in the blink of an eye. He’s hot, cold, then hot again. I try to talk to him about it, ask him to stop taking whatever kind of pills he’s taking, but he gets defensive.
I’ve never actually seen him take any pills, that is until this morning. I walked into the bedroom and saw him swallow some pill in the bathroom. I watch him put the pill bottle back into the medicine cabinet and I decide then that I need to take them away from him. He isn't going to stop on his own.
I wait for him to go to the gym. I usually go with him, but I tell him I’d rather stay home and watch TV. It’s not that hard to believe since I usually just sit in his office and wait while he works out. After he’s gone, I go back to the medicine cabinet and take the pills out. I unscrew the cap and hold the open bottle over the toilet. I pause for a moment, thinking about if this is the right way to go after all.
He keeps telling me that he needs to take them to be able to control himself, but then other times he tells me the opposite. I’m not sure which way it goes, all I know is that I want him to stop taking them and with everything going on around us, with that Andi guy and his friend breaking in, trying to steal me away it’s best if he does.
How can he protect me, protect us, if he’s not in the right mindset? It doesn’t matter that he and Ivan assured me that I don’t have to worry about anyone else breaking in. I just want him safe...his mood swings, his back and forth, and the fights, they scare me.
All of it scares me. Roman tells me over and over again that I’m safe now, that no one will try to take me away again, but I have this horrible suspicion neither of them are giving me the whole truth. I’m almost positive they’re not telling me everything simply to keep me from worrying. Which pisses me off. I might be afraid, but I want to see the monster before it grabs me.
After watching Roman take his pills this morning, I decided to do something about his addiction. I don’t want to hurt him or make him mad, but I can’t stand by while he destroys himself. I tip the bottle over and watch every single one of the pills slide out and fall into the toilet. I don’t want to lose Roman, but I can’t let him do this anymore.
The three hours I wait for Roman to come home feel more like six. Guilt and uncertainty gnaw at my insides. What if he hates me or kicks me out? No…I have to believe I’m more important to him than that. He told me he wanted me, that we were a couple, and I have to hold onto that.
He’ll be mad, but he will get over it. He will see I’ve only done this to help him—help us. Even if he turns around and buys more, at least he’ll know how serious I am about him stopping. At least now he won’t have any other option but to talk to me instead of avoiding the issue.
I sit on the couch looking at the TV without watching it. My mind is too busy running through endless scenarios inside my head.
When he finally comes home, I think my head might explode with worry. Yet, I’m somehow able to force a nervous smile when he appears in the doorframe.
“Hey, I’m taking a quick shower and then I’m all yours for the rest of the day.” He winks at me, but I know soon he won't be in a good mood anymore.
“Okay,” I say, my voice a little too high pitch but he doesn't seem to notice. He disappears back into the hallway; my pulse is races and it becomes harder for me to breathe. I reach for the remote and turn off the TV. Any second now he’s going to discover what I’ve done, and then he’s going to come for me...I hope this isn’t the end…
I can hear him stomping down the hallway not even a moment later, approaching quickly. I brace myself mentally for what’s to come, but when he actually enters the room, I realize nothing could have prepared me for the f-5 twister barreling toward me.
“What the fuck Sophie? Did you do something with my meds?” He starts yelling as soon as he sees me, his steps are deafening as he covers the space that separates us.
“Where are the pills? What the fuck did you do with them?” His questions overwhelm me.
“I flushed them down the toilet,” I admit, trying everything I can to keep my voice from trembling. I’m not sure why though...I know I’m not really scared of him. I probably should be, but I’m not. How could I be, when all he’s ever done is protect me, save me.
“WHAT?” I flinch at how loud his roar is. His features contort into a mask of pure rage. “What the fuck were you thinking? I fucking need those!”
“I don’t think you do Roman. I…”
“What are you, a fucking doctor now?” He interrupts me and throws the empty pill bottle across the room. I can see his chest heaving in anger, his hands balled into tight fists like he wants to beat the snot out of something. He turns around suddenly, pulls back his arms and swings his fist against the wall. With a loud bang his fist smashes into the wall, paint and pieces of drywall crumble around his fist while I sit on the couch watching in horror unable to move a muscle.
When he lifts his hand from the wall to reach for his phone, I see blood running down his knuckles. I almost jump up to ask him if he is okay, but decide to stay put. He pounds away at the keys before bringing the phone to his ear.
For a moment I think he might be calling someone to come pick me up. Regret fills my veins...at my decision to provoke him.
“Mike, I need you to come to my house.” There’s a long pause as the person on the other end talks. “I’m out so bring some…” Another pause, and Roman’s dark gaze seems to turn darker.
“What do you mean you don't have any right now? Find some and bring them to me…Now!” He doesn’t even give the person on the phone a chance to respond. He simply hangs up the phone, and slams it down on the liquor cabinet, before grabbing a bottle of whiskey. He's out of control, spiraling toward the ground and I don’t know how to help him, how to fix this.
Maybe I shouldn’t have flushed his pills, but I can’t envision him hurting himself anymore.
“Roman, can we please talk about this?” I move from the couch, feeling the need to soothe him.
“What is there to talk about? I took you in, kept you safe, let you stay in my house, and you rifled through my shit like it belonged to you.” The words sting, but he’s angry. He doesn't mean it.
“Do you have any idea how much money you flushed down the drain?” I shake my head, feeling his eyes roam over my body.
“I’m worried about you.” I try to keep my voice calm even though all I want to do is scream back at him. But screaming isn’t going to make this better. I need him to calm down. I need him sane...I need Roman to be the man I see underneath the darkness, the bruises, and the blood.