The clock that hangs in the kitchen ticks mercilessly. The noise of it always drives me insane. I glance up at it to find that it's only seven a.m, but I've been up since four-thirty. Time tends to move a lot slower in the early hours.

Placing my cup of hot tea down on the table in front of me, my hand shakes under the weight of it. I look my wrist over and sigh. The pain I feel there now is a small reminder of the mistake that I made two days ago.

I usually wash all of Jamies work shirts together on a Friday night after he finishes work. He likes to keep them a crisp white. They remind me of thick blankets of snow that stretch for miles, not so much as a footprint shaped drop of tomato sauce from his lunch to ruin them. If I close my eyes, I can imagine standing in that snow, cold and sunken up to my knee caps, looking out at a blinding white ocean.

I wonder if it would be possible to mistakenly dye all of that snow a pale shade of purple?    That was my mistake. The reason for the tremor that made my tea drip over the side of my cup.

I had forgotten to wash his shirts on Friday. We had gone to see a movie, some action film that Jamie was interested in. I made a mental note to do them on Saturday instead, but obviously forgot. When I spotted them in the basket on Sunday morning, I rushed to get them washed and dried so that I could iron them and have them hanging in the wardrobe, waiting for him as always.

In my haste, I accidentally let a purple sock of mine get mixed up with the shirts. As I pulled them of the washing machine an hour later, I was bewildered. They were all ruined. Mixed shades of grey and mauve were splashed all over them.

Then I spotted the sock. Shit.

I was going to have to go to that expensive suit shop he likes so I could replace them. Another job for my list that day. Maybe he would offer to go himself, considering I already had so much to do. Grocery shopping, returning some jeans he bought that didn't suit him, a visit to my sister.

I pulled the shirts into the laundry basket and marched my way into the living room where Jamie sat watching some sports show, maybe a game, I wasn't sure. I never take much interest in the TV, or sport for that matter. But Jamie likes to spend his weekends doing the things he enjoys. He works hard all week, so I don't really mind it.

"Look what I did to your shirts," I said, holding one up so he could see. "A rouge sock must have made it into the machine. You think you could make it to the store and pick some up for yourself?"

He inspected the grey fabric I held up for a moment before turning his attention to me. 

"It's Sunday," he said flatly.

"Oh, of course. They'll be closed today."

I pouted my bottom lip and thought it over. "Maybe you can wear your blue one tomorrow instead? Or your purple one? I love that on you."

I placed the ruined shirt back into the basket and offered him an apologetic smile.                

"I'll go and get you some new white ones in the morning before work, I don't start til' ten anyway."

As I headed back towards the utility room, I figured we were in agreement, but within a matter of seconds he had got himself up and bounded across the room towards me.

He had that ability. To be both quiet and quick when he didn't want me to have time to defend myself as he advanced on me.

Jamie is tall, 6'1, athletic and quite strong. He can clear his way across a room in twice the time that I can. He reminds me of a lion sometimes. It's the way he looks at me, how he watches. He stalks and makes calculations on my next move so he can beat me to it. I didn't anticipate this hunt though, and had made the error of turning my back.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

As he grabbed my wrist, the basket of laundry fell from my hands to the floor, sending the shirts tumbling out. His grip on me was so tight that it hurt. Sometimes his touch felt like it could burn right through me, like hot metal on wax.

I looked to Jamie in confusion, but he reached for my face, clamping his hand around my chin before pushing me back with such force that when I hit the wall behind me I was left breathless. The air whooshed from my lungs as I gasped and tried to wriggle free, but he's so much stronger than I am, and his grip just got tighter.

Jamie lowered himself so that his face met mine. "Are you stupid?," he spat, cocking his head to the side.

"Jamie!," I cried between gasps, "you're hurting me."

Pulling my head forward a few inches, he then slammed it back against the wall. My ears  began to make a sharp ringing sound, and I had to close my eyes in order to try and silence the pain.

"Look at me!"

I quickly opened my eyes back up to see him nose to nose with me. "I asked you a question," he said, "Are. You. Stupid?" He inched himself closer with every word.

"N- no," I stuttered. "It was just an accident, a sock got mixed in. I'm sorry!"

My eyes began to fill with tears. I hated it, not only did it make me feel weak, but Jamie got off on it. Tears only ever seemed to fuel him when he got like that. I saw the corners of his mouth twitch upwards at the sight of my glassy eyes.

"I can try and bleach them before tomorrow," I offered meekly, but his grip on my face only tightened.

"Those aren't some shitty twenty dollar shirts Izzy, why do you think I have you do them separate to all of your cheap stuff?"

I stared back at him, unsure what to say, unsure what he would do next. I could feel my whole body trembling.

Jamie dropped his hand from my face, pushing it to the side. I thought he was finished with me, but instead he took my hand, pulling me away from the wall and twisting my arm behind my back and pulling it upwards. I could feel the burn of it right up into my shoulder. A pained cry escaped from my throat.

"Jesus Jamie, you're going to break my arm!"

He pulled my body back, bringing me flush against him as his mouth pressed against my ear.

"The next time you do something this foolish, that's exactly what I'll do," he growled. With that he pushed me forward and released my arm.

Wrapping my hand around my wrist, I checked it over. Then I felt another shove between my shoulder blades, moving me towards the shirts that lay on the floor. "Clean that shit up too," he said, before making his way back across the living room and sitting down on the couch. It was like nothing had happened.

Grabbing at the shirts, I pulled them into the laundry basket as quickly as I could and hurried back to the utility room. When I got there, I must have cried for what felt like an hour.

Eventually I wiped at the tears and sucked in a breath, telling myself to get it together, I had stuff to do, and feeling sorry for myself wasnt one of them. I made my way back to the living room, picking at my nail beds and keeping my gaze to the floor. Jamie ignored my puffy red eyes as I picked up my purse off the coffee table.

"I've a few errands to run," I told him, "I was planning to go and see Sarah too."

Keeping my head bowed, I didn't dare make eye contact. Why did I give this man so much power?

"Sure thing babe," he smiled at me. "Maybe give the visit to Sarah a miss today though, you seem a bit run down."

I looked up at him in shock, but his eyes didn't move from the TV. I knew from his tone that it was a warning rather than a concern.

He hated when I visited my sister, even more so after he did things like this. He knew Sarah didn't like him after I told her that his jealously had cost me my job once. He was always paranoid that she would try to convince me to leave him. She never did of course, but she knew nothing about him pushing me around either.

I knew a whole lot better than to argue at that point, so I agreed not to go, even though it had already been weeks since I had properly spoken to my sister. I always did as Jamie wanted, like it or not.

"Great," he said, "I'll see you later, I love you." With that, he stood and kissed the top of my head, just like always.

When I got back home that afternoon, he didn't mention a thing about what had happened. No explanation, no apology, nothing. And now we've been in this weird kind of limbo ever since.

I try to push the whole thing to the back of my mind. Replaying days like that never does me any good. Instead, I pour the rest of my tea down the drain and decide to try make use of the fact I'm awake so early and go for a run. Maybe some fresh air will clear my mind, or at least silence it for a while.