“Look, I am really sorry about everything. Let’s start over…..” he said while fidgeting with his copy of the house keys.
I shrugged. Sucked in air and sighed.
“Seriously, it was a mistake. I-…” he stopped midway then looked me in the eye , hoping to get a response, but I gave none.
He moved closer to me. I stood transfixed and watched him take drunken steps towards me. He was still intoxicated from the previous night’s drinking spree.
He tensed when I stuck my hand in my trouser pocket ~ and there was a brief moment of relief on his face when I removed the Samsung galaxy I had given him as a present when he got his job promotion earlier in the year.
“Where did you get my phone? I thought we agreed to respect each other’s privacy?
I could feel anger rising in me. I bit my lower lip and walked away from him. I could hear his footsteps behind me, rushing to overtake me. He held me by the collar of my nightdress and tried tackling me to get his phone back.
“Don’t you dare touch me…..if I go to the police you will never get out of jail. You know what they told you last time you were there….”
He held me tighter, and I could feel the tightness in my throat as he pulled my dress getting tighter.
“I am taking it back, if this is what you will be using to text her every day as I am seated here waiting for you to come home. I am not giving you back this phone….”
Tears stung my eyes. I was shaking in rage and helplessness. I thought the anger inside me was going to kill me.
“She is just a friend. Haven’t I told you that she is just a good friend?”
There it was- the all so familiar purge of rancid words. I closed my eyes tightly and felt hot tears roll on my cheeks. His hand was now on my wrist, clasping tight. His face was on my face, and I could smell the pungent reek of alcohol as he begged me to give him his phone.
I pushed him away using all my strength. I was yelling in anger, saying things that were unfamiliar to me, and battling the deep rage that was consuming my entire being
“You know you have a problem. You are too insecure, and it makes me sick….i am tired of your drama.” he said while running after me.
“You know what I am tired of? I am tired of your lies, of your cheating. I am tired of all these women you claim are just friends. I am tired of my friends calling me to tell me that you have been spotted with yet another one…..”
A huge sob rocked my body.
He reached for me, grabbed me and scared me. I thought he was going to strike me hard, so I shielded my face.
“Look, give me the phone, and I swear, I will be out of this place. I am ready to move out and leave . we can work something out. I can go and stay with a friend until we figure something out.
He sounded pathetically calm ~ like he had always wanted this and was jumping at the opportunity. I know I was supposed to feel relieved, but somehow, the whole thing made my head pound.
“ I deleted everything. And I am not giving you back this phone.” I said flatly. My tears had subsided, replaced by some raw emotion I couldn’t really place.
I could see him getting impatient.
I rushed to the toilet. He followed me.
“Look, at least let me get my back up. Everything is on that phone, including my client’s details. And I am expecting an important business call, please….let’s not get emotional.”
I dropped it inside the toilet. He screamed. I flushed. Over and over in urgency. A cacophonous swell of yells and flushing water filled the room. My heart was healing, my soul was being soothed.
His breath hissed from his lips like an inflating balloon.
Then he grabbed me and pushed me on the wall, he was seething in anger. I was not scared. I felt strong in my vulnerability. Courageous even. And so, when I reached for the my trouser pocket and removed a small pocket knife, my mind was clouded.
I struck the bulls-eye I had mentally etched across his chest and released a blood drenched knife.
He fell in a slump at my feet, his gaze fixed mercifully on me.
My hand was bloody, and even as I flushed the toilet again to try and drown the phone that had refused to sink, I left a bloody mess on the toilet cistern. But I continued flushing, as if I had been possessed by a demon.
“Temporary insanity….” That is what they called it when they found me, still flushing the toilet long after the phone had disappeared.