Maybe, Baby

Eighteen

You know the moment you want to bolt, run, escape to the end of the earth, and your brain won't work the way that is supposed to work; to send a message to the legs and make them move. What I did do was wobble on my feet and almost fall on my a*s. I couldn't stop watching him watch me. I couldn't stop feeling terrified and ashamed. I suddenly realized that my breath smelled like alcohol and that my makeup was heavy, and my shorts were very, very short.

"Where were you?"

Ice cold, his voice was sharp and low. His gray eyes seemed to turn lighter with the anger in his face. He stood up and started to walk at a languid pace towards me, towering and then making me feel small. My ears were ringing. If it weren't for the fact that I was stuck where I stood, I already would have fallen on my a*s.

"I'm not asking again Dolores." He shook me. He really, really shocked me. He grabbed me by the shoulders and surprised me. "Where were you Goddamit?"

"Out." I tried to force myself out of his hold without avail. He was freakishly strong. I was a newborn kitten compared to his strength. "I was out with my friends ok, I was out having fun with people my age."

"With that kind of clothes and your face like that?" That accusatory tone is his. I had heard him before with other people but never with me, not once, not even when I made a mistake. I tried yanking my arm free one last time.

I hate him. I wouldn't say I liked this whole situation. He had no right to criticize my attire or my makeup. I was only a maid for him.

Employee.

I was in charge of keeping the house in shape and his things at home. I was the hired help and nothing else.

I couldn't take it anymore, so instead of pulling, I pushed him. I gave him all my might or with enough force to make him step back. I had indeed caught him off guard with my sudden act of violence, and I took advantage of it and pushed again, finding myself inside my bedroom with him attached to my arm. The stunning face look on his face was funny enough to send me down to the floor full of laughter if the situation would have been any different from what was happening right now, so I just tried to keep a straight face while he glared at me.

A whole minute went by, and he was still staring. What the hell was his problem? "What the hell is your problem?" I blurted out. I was sick of this. Also very drunk and sleepy.

"Mouth!"

"Oh f**k off!" I slapped his hand several times until I got myself free. "I'm tired, get out." I threw my small purse on the floor and started to kick off my shoes. The whole deal was hard to do. I used my bed to lean most of the weight off my body of my feet so that I could do the job. It was all a mess. My hair was in the way, I couldn't lean down to take off a shoe, and I also slipped and fell on my face letting out a big oomph as the air left my lungs.

"Just let me help you." He twisted me around and sat me on the bed in one quick move

"Get your hands off me, I don't need your help." And yet, I lay horizontal on my bed while I felt my shoes being taken off. I tried to take a peek at what he was doing, but I was at the point where the light hurt my eyes. It was going to be bitching tomorrow.

The weight of him on my bed shifted. I felt him getting up before he adjusted my legs, leaving a hot print of his hand on my leg. Innocent to anyone else but not for me. Nothing was when he was involved. When he looked at me, it was more than a look. A smirk or a smile was more than a smile, so when he moved to leave, it felt wrong.

I forced myself up. "What are you doing?"

"Leaving."

"But you can't leave." He stopped with his back to me, his head low and his arms at the sides. "Stay, just a little bit." I pouted and begged.

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. You can stay. Come on stay." I tried to add a little smile to my begging. I always got things whenever I smiled.

"No." apparently his final answer since he started to walk out.

"Fine leave!" I threw a pillow at him, poorly aimed. It bounced on his feet. He didn't even turn around to see me. I wanted to scream and punch babies. Why didn't he like me? I was so mad at him, myself, and everyone and that stupid girl Sherry and her perfect hair. I also hated myself right now. I had no plans to be hugging toilets, yet I was running towards the bathroom, trying to contain what was threatening to spill all over the floor. I didn't make it. I left a disgusting trail from the doorway to the closed lid until I got it up. I hurled and moaned onto my best friend for the night, the toilet.

I felt as if my stomach was going to disengage itself from my insides and finally come out of my mouth. No matter how much I begged the high lord almighty, it didn't stop. Whenever I felt that no more were coming, I used toilet paper to erase my food remnants from the floor, then the smell triggered it all back, and it started, like an endless circle, like the cycle of water but far more disgusting. I wept and felt sorry for myself, for my head, and my heart. Why? Was my head so thick that I couldn't get it? He doesn't want you Dolores, no matter how much to beg or how many times you throw yourself at him, you're just a kid to him.

Disappointment to the max.