Continued from I Kicked Him In The Balls by me, Maharet. :P
My head couldn't seem to wrap itself around his comment. How insane do you have to be? We've been so good. I'VE been so good. I'm not on any medication, he's not been overtly aggravating and I've been very much under control. I mean I'm still taking the Adderall and though it doesn't seem to be doing all that much for my concentration it does seem to be helping to keep me a bit more on the cheerful side. I'm more apt to laugh than to cry. Very unlike the usual me who's more likely to see a sad movie over a happy one just to have an excuse to cry like a baby.
When his words swam through my head I made a decision. I made a conscious choice to revert backwards about 20 steps. I took us back months in the wrong direction and I think for some reason I did it on purpose. I laughed at him and said, "Your in the mood to argue? Heh, well guess what...so am I." That's pretty much when the proverbial shit hit the fan. Let's make Rigid's face the fan here okay? And then let's just say...for posterity's sake, that my fists were huge vats of shit. So before you know it Rigid grabbed my arms and pushed me down onto the sofa until I stopped. I screamed and screamed and kicked his feet. I flailed around like a moron and that's when I did it. I went for his crotch.
Now, when I say I kicked him, well, I suppose it's not quite right. Just as I was about to slamm his nether region I pulled my foot back. Mostly I just shoved him. I mean Rigid's fast, usually, but this time he wasn't fast enough and since he didn't jump back I held back my kick. Doesn't that mean that I still had some capacity for reasoning? Couldn't that mean that I did all of that on purpose? I don't know because in all our fights I've always had a bit of that. I remember throwing things at his head and missing by 4"-6". Once he laughingly told an xbox live friend I couldn't hit a brick through a barn door. I don't believe he ever said that again, not since the alarm-clock-to-the-ribs incident.
As he began to realize that I was kicking him in the crotch he jumped back and had no choice to release me from his vice like grip. I jumped up like I had a spring up my ass and throttled him about the neck and shoulders. The next thing that happened both shocked and amazed me. The mother fucker tossed me onto the couch and sat on me. All I saw was this giant bubble butt heading towards my face and land on my stomach. I punched and punched, but it was useless. I swore I was going to rip his kidneys out with my bare hands. Of course every punch had less and less spunk mostly due to the fact that I was running out of breath not to mention the fact that I was at a completely useless angle. All my punches to his kidneys were completely ineffectual. That and he was protecting his ribs. The left side was broken years and years ago and he knows I'm evil enough to go for them. All it takes is a finger and he crumbles.
God, even I can't believe the fury of my attack. I was like this screaming little monkey with no brains and he, the brute, was a damn dirty ape. I cried and cried until he got off me and I just lay there helpless and cried some more. He tried to talk to me, but in my heart and mind it was over. That felt like the worst fight we'd had yet, but it didn't end there. Oh no, not by a long shot. I can't remember how this went, but he said something to me that infuriated me even more. I've not gone into the argument much at all, not what he said or I said, because it doesn't really matter. We could have been arguing about the chicken and the egg for all I care. The only thing I'm interested in was his reaction and mine both of which were bad, bad, bad. I slapped him. I slapped him really hard. He begged me to do it again and I did. We sat there panting like animals. Beads of fine sweat had begun to form on his brow and his cheeks were flushed red with fury. He begged and begged for me to do it again because he swore to me that he'd walk out that door. Just one more time and he walks. He kept on begging and I just watched the sweat form and pool together on the furrows of his brow. His face was screwed up in anger and I just melted. I was so angry at him and suddenly I couldn't remember why.
So I tapped him on the face and told him that if he wanted to leave that he should just go. I almost laughed at how idiotic and childish that was. He wanted a good hard slap though and I wouldn't give it to him. We stared at each other and threw darts in each other eyes, but that was the end of the battle. We'd lost our fighting spirit. I felt hopeless and I asked him to please leave. He went to the bedroom and proceeded to put on his shoes. I wailed and wailed like a crazy woman. Suddenly the real and true prospect of losing him sent me into such a horrible and painful panic that I flew to the bedroom jumped on top of him and pinned him to the bed. I held him and clung to him and cried into his shoulder like a little girl and he just lay there, much like a dead fish. He wouldn't hold me. I'd lost. I was lost. I held him for a bit longer, but it was over and I shifted onto the bed. I just sort of poured myself off of him. It was horrible. I lay there in the fetal position and cried until I felt my eyelids expand. Off he went, into the night.
When I was done crying I went after him. He didn't take the car which meant he only just took a break. A walk around the block perhaps? Maybe I still had a chance. God, it was so embarrassing to be out there. Swollen eyes, tears still pouring out of me, shoes hanging off my feet and no bra on. I felt like such a fucking loser, but it didn't matter. I had to beg my husband for forgiveness. I walked towards the park because I didn't see him in either direction from he driveway. I was horribly aware of people here and there watching me walk down the street by myself. It was 11pm and the streetlamps were piercing my skull. I was anything but inconspicuous and I was terribly aware of it, but I trudged on. When I got to the park I saw that he wasn't there and I despaired. I continued to walk until I found a bench. The very bench I sat in sometime last year when I found myself in the same position. Last time no one, not even Rigid, came to see if I was even alive. This time a guy rode up on his bicycle and asked if I was okay.
"ei...sht...shht...oye....tu...girl...hey...shht...sht..sht..hey...you okay?...girl...you okay, you need help?", he whispered.
"No thanks," I said crying into my hands and sniffing back a few boogers.
"ei...shtt...ei...you want help?"
"NOOO, Thank You!" I snapped. I felt bad for him. Normally I would have thanked him for asking even though this isn't the type you'd want help from on any given day. His pants were so big there were hanging off his ass. I wondered how he would possibly ride that little bicycle of his and not fall on his face, but really I didn't care about anything at all. It didn't even occur to me that I could have been raped. What did occur to me for some reason is that he's probably one of the guys that goes around tagging the neighborhood. But I didn't think about that for long. I just cried and felt pathetic.
Eventually, way off in the distance I saw a black shadow down the street. The street lamp's little rays of light were wreaking havoc on my swollen tear ridden eyes so it was really hard to see, but I hoped and my heart fluttered. It took a while, but eventually I could make out his shape. When he started to round the corner I realized he didn't see me so I called out a few times for him. He came to me and sat by me and I felt relieved. It was going to be okay. We'd do whatever we needed to do to make it better because it's worth it. We're worth it. We've been though too much to give up now. Then he opened his mouth.
"I'm sorry Michelle, It's just not working..." he said.
'It's not working,' I thought. 'It's not working...not working...not working. WOW.' and then I got up and left him talking mid sentence. I walked as fast as I could, back home. He begged me to let him finish, but I just walked and he followed. He was leaving me and I wanted to rip his throat out so I thought it best that I just go to bed and avoid it all. That was that. I went to bed, got under my covers and lay there. He apologized over and over again telling me that he didn't know why he always messed up, why he always let things get so out of control, that it was all his fault. I didn't say a word. I couldn't. I remember at some point apologizing to him for hitting him. I told him he didn't deserve that, but he wouldn't let me take the blame.
I couldn't help the tears that kept coming out of my eyes, it was like a faucet was left on and tears kept dribbling out despite my efforts. He brought me one of my little stop-crying-like-a-little-bitch pills, but I refused to take it. 'Not for you...not anymore.' I thought to myself. I did however accept an Ibuprofen. My body ached in places I didn't know existed anymore and crappers, I forgot I slammed my head on a wall too. I don't really know why I did that. It was rather pointless and it fucking hurt like hell. Oh yeah, I remember know. I wanted to stop crying hysterically so I could chase after Rigid like a moron. Great...worked like a charm. I nearly knocked myself out. Well, I think I'd be good in a bar fight. Don't think you'd like to be conked on the head with my melon that's for sure.
He held me a lot and kissed me and told me he'd never let me go. We said a lot of things. I even asked him how long he'd need to leave. I figured his mother could send him some money and we wouldn't have to worry about that. He was concerned with my bills though. Said he'd have to pay those off first because they belonged to the two of us. That's when it hit me. It was over, the fight was done and neither one of us were going anywhere. Oh, I continued to argue with him lightly, but I think it was mostly for dramatics and he went along with it because he's very much like me. Dramatic, full of hot air and can never shut the fuck up.
I still cried about it the next day and I begged him to forgive me for hitting him. But he refused to accept my apology by telling me that I had nothing to apologize about. We were both acting like fools and were both wrong. I stared at him lovingly with my softball sized eyelids and kissed him tenderly on the cheek.
I was playing hookie from work and he was playing Rainbow 6. Sniff the irony people...sniff it!