Chapter 5 (Abusive To Men)

Aurora POV

I stood in front of his door, checking the time on my phone. Mary said, 8 pm on the dot, and I wanted to keep to time so he won’t get more angry at me. The clock turned 8, and I knocked gently on his door. 

“Come in,” he grumbled from behind the door. I took a deep breath, opening the door, and his room was dim; not much light was on. I looked around the room because he wasn’t on the bed. 

“Here,” his deep voice said, and I flinched, turning to my side. I held my chest, looking at him; he was seated on the couch. I walked to him, and he was holding his phone, checking the time.

“Right in time,” he said, and I could barely make out his face.

“Have your seat,” he said, and I sat in front of him, using my phone to see. The lights turned on after he snapped his finger, and I could finally see. I looked at him, and I couldn’t control the laugh I burst. I laughed out loud, covering my mouth to muffle the sound of my laughter, but it only made it worse. He frowned, and I laughed more.

“Is anything funny?” He snapped, and I threw my head back, laughing till my stomach hurt.

“Do you wish to die?” He growled, and I immediately stopped laughing. I swallowed the lump in my throat as he looked at me angrily; if only looks could kill, I would be 6 feet under.

“What is so funny?” he asked, and I moved on the couch, clearing my throat. I was only laughing because of the bandage wrapped around his head; his nose and cheeks are red like tomatoes, and his eyes were watering. He looked like a child, especially with how messy his hair is. Why is he so cute?

“Nothing, Mr. King,” I mumbled, holding back my smile.

“Oh, I see my suffering is amusing to you,” he said, and I looked at him, shaking my head.

“Of course not, you just looked…” He cut me off.

“Save it,” he snapped, and I folded my lips shut.

“I called you here to inform you of your duties in this house,” he said, and I nodded my head. He passed the book to me, and I picked it up, reading through it. Clean his room every morning, help him get ready, follow him for business meetings, give him massages when needed, and watch him till he sleeps. The list is very ridiculous, and although it seems easy to do, I have a feeling he is going to make it very difficult for me.

“Is everything clear?” he asked, and I nodded my head.

“But don’t I get a break off to do my own thing? It looks like I have to babysit you,” I said, and he glared at me.

“No, there are no breaks. You will do as I stated there,” he snapped, and I fought back my smile again. He is looking too cute right now for me to take him seriously.

“Ms. Brown,” he snapped. I looked away from him, wondering why he didn’t say Mrs. King, but I ignored it.

“Would I be in charge of your food?” I asked.

“No, the maids are there for that, and I don’t trust you. Who knows what poison would be put inside?” he said, and I sighed. Does he really think I would poison him?

“Help me to the bed,” he snapped. I stood up, bringing his wheelchair while I wondered how he got here in the first place.

“If I fall, I will have your head,” he snapped, and I nodded my head. He moved to the edge of his bed, and I tried to carry him up, only to fail woefully, but this time, he fell on the couch, dragging me with him. Once again, he was extremely close to my face, my hand on his chest. Out of instinct, I raised my hand to get his face of mine because I didn’t want anyone in my personal space, but this time he caught my hand glaring at me.

“I knew you were trouble the first day you stepped in this house,” he said, holding my tiny wrist like it irritated him. I realised I was just about to slap him, and I quickly moved back, my cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry, I…” He cut me off. 

“Answer me this: is it a habit of yours to beat men?” he asked, and the fact he looked genuinely curious made me wonder how badly I have traumatised him. I shook my head.

“No, of course not,” I said. 

“Then why do you hit me every chance you get? Are you trying to take revenge on this hell of a marriage? In case you’re not aware, I didn’t want this marriage; we are both stuck in this hell of a marriage, so why do you beat up a man in a wheelchair?” He asked, and I went quiet. I was suddenly feeling guilty; I even laughed in his face for the pain I inflicted on him. I really didn’t mean it; I don’t know why I have gotten so clumsy.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. 

“Save it,” he said, taking his wheelchair. I watched him as he struggled with getting on the wheelchair, and I became very sad as I remembered my grandma. She was the only one who ever loved me; even when my family maltreated me, she was the best thing that happened to me. She died of cancer after suffering from a stroke that paralysed her waist down. I was the only one taking care of her, and my father didn’t care. She died right in my arms, and it was the worst day ever; seeing him like this made me sad.

      It made me remember everything; I blamed myself for her death because I felt I didn’t do enough for her. I said to myself if anyone close to me is ever sick, I would take care of them. He is also paralysed down, and I am doing nothing but adding to his pain, laughing at him. I sniffed, realising I was crying, and after he struggled to get in the wheelchair, he turned to me, looking at me shocked as I cried.

“I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean to inflict so much pain on you,” I cried, trying to control my tears. I don’t think about my grandma much, but when I do, I cry so hard. He sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“Please stop crying,” he mumbled, but I cried more. He sighed, looking very frustrated. My cries increased, and he closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, it’s so sad,” I wailed, trying to keep snot from running down my nose. He moved closer to me, dragging me by my arm to his wheelchair, and I was surprised by the action.

“Don’t you ever cry in front of me; I couldn't care less about what makes you cry. You’ve done enough for tonight; please leave,” he snapped, pushing me away. I looked at him, and he struggled to get on his bed. When he got on it, he took repeated breaths, looking like he had a terrible headache. He snapped his fingers, and the lights turned off.

“Leave,” he said darkly, and I didn’t waste any time. I ran outside, feeling like a horrible person. I have to make it up to him; I have pushed him too far.