Adjectives: Hostile, Woebegone
Nouns: Lemons, A Bull Fight, Chains
Megan stared out the window as the city bus rolled through her Harlem neighborhood. Her mind replayed the conversation earlier with the hostile gangsta she had been shacking up with for longer than she cared to remember.
"What kind of stupid ho ya be? Learn yer mutha-fuckin' place, bitch" was the least of the insults hurled in her direction like the Corell dishware also smashed on the floor at her feet. An outsider might have suggested that this wasn't a healthy relationship, that Megan should get out, that there is help available, but what that outsider wouldn't see is that her love is beyond dysfunction. Megan put her headphones on and pressed play on her walkman, losing herself in Eminem's droning rap and Rhianon's lyrics.
"...just gonna stand there and watch me burn... it's all right, because I like the way it hurts... Just gonna stand there and here me cry... It's all right because I like the way you lie"
The bus pulled up to her stop after quite awhile, and she deboarded and made her way to the costume shop she worked at when she could get away from Marcus, unlocked the door, slipped inside, and locked the door behind her. She went into the office and began to count out her drawer for the morning, when a hand-written note caught her attention. "You're MINE" were scrawled across the bottom of the note in Marcus' messy handwriting. A quiet tear rolled down her face as she crumpled the note and put it in her pocket. No way was she going to let her woebegone mood ruin her work performance, and her boss didn't need to know there were problems in her life. After all, everyone had problems.
Megan sucked in her thoughts, gathered herself, and went about opening the store. When life gives you lemons, you get to make lemonade, although her lemonade needed a lot more sugar.
Work was uneventful, and as she raced for the bus, she prayed she would arrive home before Marcus, afraid of the bull-fight that would ensue if she didn't. As it was, her bus arrived, and getting off the bus and into their 5th floor walk-up put her home a scant 15 minutes before him.
She was able to sweep up the broken glass from this mornings tirade, and straighten up some of the furniture before he appeared behind her, his voice startling her with his apologies. Before she could do anymore than turn around, he had her crushed to his chest in a passionate embrace, hands everywhere, hurriedly ripping her pants from her body, and lifting her onto the counter to penetrate her deeply, emotionally, completely.
It was over too quickly, and he helped her down off the counter. She proceeded to make dinner, cleared it away afterwards, and waited for him to pass out for the night in their bed they shared. She stayed awake for hours, wondering when she would have the courage to break free, with the last wish before sleep overtook her that she wouldn't wake up this time.
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