6

 “Make it up to me when, Bruce?!” I snapped. “You never have time for me anymore. I get so lonely at home all day.” I trailed off my sentence, shaking my head with embarrassment. “Why do you think I spend my nights writing novels? I have nothing else to do.”

“Look,” Bruce yawned. “I've got a celebration evening at work today. A ball. You should come with me.”

“A ball?” I repeated. “You think I want to go to a ball full of rich snobs, as your trophy wife?”

The last thing I wanted to do was go to a ball surrounded by people I didn’t get along with. Surrounded by people who probably thought even worse of me than Bruce did.

“Trophy wife?” Bruce snarled, repulsed. “You're acting like you're some sort of model.” He shook his head frustratedly. “All you'll ever be is average at best, babe. But it's good for appearances if you go.” He folded his arms angrily, and I could feel my eyes sting as they began welling with tears again. All Bruce did was criticize my appearance and the way I looked, and it was driving me sick and mad. “You're always complaining to me that we never go anywhere, so stop barking down my throat and go into town and buy yourself a nice dress for tonight.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but then I closed it again, not wanting to argue. Not wanting to waste my breath and make myself even more miserable than I already was.

“Fine,” I heaved.

“Glad that's settled,” Bruce smiled. “Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get ready for work.”

He rolled his eyes and rolled out of bed, making his way to the bathroom. The next thing I heard was the shower turning on, and I let out a sigh as I continued to toss and turn in bed.

I stared at the dried blood on my knuckles, from smashing the mirror yesterday. After Bruce made me feel so damn worthless, and so damn shit about myself.

The last thing I wanted to do was go to a ball.

Everybody there would probably think I was just as ugly and just as fat as Bruce made me out to be.

I couldn't fucking humiliate myself again…

But I also knew that Bruce wouldn't take no for an answer.

At least I would be able to get a breath of fresh air…

And buy myself a pretty dress while I was at it.

Bruce had turned me into such a homebody, it was actually alarming how little I left the house.

I only left for work…

And that was really fucking unhealthy.

I had no fucking social skills, and I didn't even know how to talk to anyone other than my husband.

I guessed Bruce was right…

I did need to wake up.

Real life wasn't like the romantic novels that I wrote, and I was stupid to think that I'd ever get my own happy ending.

I was convinced that happy endings didn't even exist.

After all, mine and Bruce's marriage was just a marriage of convenience.

He was such a sweetheart in the beginning, probably for the sake of my parents and his, but as time went on and he got too comfortable, he started treating me more and more shit as the days went on.

I rolled my eyes angrily, and then got up out of bed, making my way to my wardrobe. I threw on a bright red shirt and some jeans. I hoped I didn't look fat in these clothes. After the amount Bruce had criticized me, I couldn’t help but to feel paranoid every time I left the house. What if people in town were laughing at me secretly, and amusing themselves with how ugly I was?

I let out a deep breath, before I turned on my heel and began making my way out of the house to go to town, my heart pounding against my chest as my anxiety began taking over my body.

***

I made my way into town, looking at the different shops around. Topshop, New Look, Next, Primark, Peacock’s…

“Where should I go first?” I murmured to myself, rubbing my chin, immersed in my own thoughts.

“Hey,” came a deep, raspy voice that caused me to jolt upwards in shock.