The trudge up the stairs is filled with nervousness, and as I near my apartment door, I hesitate before opening it.

It was undoubtedly unlocked since Fabio would probably be up and waiting, which was exactly what I did not want to walk in on.

But fuck this, who is he even to have me hesitating in front of the apartment I own?

Pushing the door open as if the sudden revelation gives me the strength for it and more, I slip off my shoes before slipping on the bunny slippers I left earlier in the haste to get the fuck out of here, placing my bag and keycard to the small table positioned beneath the cute little coat rack I added to make it feel more homey, now hanging up my zip up hoodie to the collection of coats and other jackets.

When I step foot into the lounge, it's to Fabio sitting upright on one of the single couches, having moved his position from the sofa what must've been hours ago (seeing as the dent of his ass was no longer nestled on the material of it) showing that he hadn't slouched on it since I left.

"Do you know what time it is?"
He asks when I only spare him a glance, before moving past him to pick up the beer cans littering the table and his discarded dirty plate.

"Yes, it's ten minutes to twelve."
I sigh exasperated, before leaving him in the lounge to go to the kitchen, dropping his dirt in the trash where it belongs.

Something he doesn't seem to garner in his fucking head, ever always the one to keep it close to him.

I place the dirty plate in the dishwasher, before opening the fridge to get something to place on the sandwich I was about to make me.

After all, the last time I ate was merely three hours ago, and I wasn't one to skip my meals, ever.

"And now you're just waltzing in here without telling me where you've been?"
He asks, his tone explicitly consisting of only anger and frustration, as if I owe him an explanation at all.

"No, I didn't consider it important."
I finally gather some butter and ham, along with some salad placings to add, and turning while bumping my hip against the fridge to close it and placing everything in my hands on the countertop.

"You!
Would you fucking look me in the eye when I'm talking to you?
Or is that too much too ask now?"
He rasps, and I look up at him tiredly.

"What's going on with you?
Ever since I got here, it's like you don't even bother to make me happy, it's like you're not even bothered that I am here, barely attempting to make conversation with me, to have sex, to heed my wants, to do anything I ask of you!"
He continues, and I raise a brow to show that I'm listening before turning again, starting my dinner as I listen to him speak.

Shout more like.

"What, you think you too good to even answer me now? Just because I don't have a job you don't think I'm man enough now. You think you don't need me? I said I'd get started on job hunting, didn't I? I just need a break; you know how hard life-"

"You?
You need a break?
What for?
Cause all you've done is absolutely fucking nothing. Do you even know how long it's been since you've been jobless?
Since I've had to woman up and pay the bills, since I've had to cater for two people on a salary at a bakery, since I've had to sweat it out day and night just because my boyfriend was the least of shit?
And you, you need a fucking break?"
I ask incredulously, a laugh of insanity leaving me at the batshit craziness of it all.

He needed a break.

He needed a break after cheating on me, he needed a break after depending on me financially for more than a year and possibly for longer than half of our relationship, he needed a break when he never took and takes into consideration how I feel about anything, he needed a break when I could barely count on one fucking hand where he wasn't constantly on a break!

"Zia, don't you dare take out what's been happening to us on me-"
He starts but I am sick, I am sick keeping my mouth shut, I am sick of always being considerate, I am sick of always caring and being content to settle for the wrong people.

"Oh, who's to blame then?
Who cheated on who?"
At the shock on his face I laugh bitterly, sadly amused that he didn't think I'd found out.

"Yeah, Celeste couldn't wait to come rub it in my face when she saw me.
Why do you think I never came home on weekends?
Because that bitch was there first time around, leaving the apartment I pay the rent of, that I pay the mortgages of, that I supply with food, and telling me she's sorry for being caught, she should've woken up earlier, but you were just so cuddly!

"You need a break?
What for, I fucking ask again, because you've been nothing but useless to me.
And now again, you're back at it, using me for you own personal gain-

"Zia, fuck no, I didn't -"
He tries to argue with me.

"Spare me, I don't need your explanations. What I do need, is for you to be out of my fucking life by the end of the week. And don't try to convince me of staying together, because your empty promises won't fucking matter more than they do now, which is none."
I rasp hostile, grabbing my plate and a bottle of juice before pushing past him, but he grasps onto my shoulder, harshly, and the underlying fear that always waited to poke its head out shows in the way I tense, waiting.

"You don't get to decide when or how we break up. You're mine, and the only way you'll get rid of me is if I ever feel I'm done with you, got that?"
He clutches me closer, with a more hurting grip on my shoulder, and suddenly I'm back at home, 16 while being cornered by another of my mom's friends.

Come on sweetie, just one taste, I know you want it. I feel his hands on me, how they slip beneath my long-oversized t-shirt that I use as pyjamas, as he crowds me closer against the wall, and for a moment I can only stand still, half asleep and half barrelled with panic, small hitches in my breath because I've always successfully escaped them.

That's before my fight or flight instinct sunk in.

Much like it is now.
And this time, I don't choose to run, I choose to run around and face Fabio head on.

"You have fucking nothing on me, and I won't be fucking threatened by a dead-beat ass, so get your fucking hands of me."
I spit in his face, and while my heart races in my chest as I wait for that nuclear reaction in his eyes to go off, I don't show it.

I'm rescued by someone next door stumbling around into our door, and I slip into my room and lock my door as Fabio goes to check on the commotion.

Relieve slips into my veins, but it's short lived because I know this isn't where it ends.

I just hope he heeds my warning and is out of my apartment by the end of the week.

__

Gosh, I hate men.