Reheated, two day old chicken thrown in a bowl with lettuce. I can’t even call it a salad as we didn’t have any dressing but, as I forgot to eat today, I had to make do.
His dad called him while he was out at the bar and gave him grief, asking if he even cared that the girls had come home. He came home in a terrible mood and it got worse as he insulted one of our friends to the point she told him she was done with their friendship. He’s just so out of line.
I’m hiding in the bathroom “peeing” after he threw himself on top of me, again. His heavy body suffocated and possibly bruised me, again. He smelled of brew and was soaked in sweat from humping so much. I thought, when he finally finished, I might actually throw up this time. How does he not know I don’t want to do this anymore? How can he not tell I’m faking my moans? Oh right, the alcohol.
Christmas is over, can I leave now?