“Why are you so useless?”


    The clock hanging on the wall above my head ticks mercilessly as I sit in the kitchen and repeat those words to myself. The noise of it always drives me insane. I glance up, squinting my eyes to find that it''s only seven a.m. It feels like a whole day has passed since I woke up a few hours ago, but I suppose 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 that I feel there now serves as a small reminder of the mistake that I made two days ago.


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


    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 now makes my tea drip over the side of my cup.


    I forgot to wash his shirts on Friday. We’d gone to see a movie, some action film that Jamie was interested in. I made a mental note to look after them the following day instead, but obviously forgot, so when I spotted them in the basket on Sunday morning, I rushed to get them washed and dried so that I could have them hanging in the wardrobe for him come Monday morning as always. In my haste, I must have accidentally let a purple sock of mine get mixed up with the shirts when I was loading them, because when I pulled them from the washing machine an hour later, I was horrified to find them all ruined. Mixed shades of grey and mauve taunted me as I inspected each shirt one by one. Then I spotted the sock. Shit.


    Immediately I realised that I was going to have to go to that expensive suit shop Jamie likes so that I could replace the shirts. Great, there was another job for my list that day. Maybe Jamie would offer to go himself, considering how I already had so much to do. I still had to go grocery shopping, then I needed to return some jeans he bought that didn''t suit him, and after that I was planning to pay a visit to my sister.


    As I trudged my way into the living room, I prayed that Jamie was in a good mood.


    I approached him as he 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 at what I did to your shirts," I said, lifting one from the laundry basket and holding it up so he could see. "A rouge sock must have made it into the machine. Do you think you could make it to the store to pick some new ones up for yourself?"


    Jamie glanced at the grey fabric that 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?,” I suggested, “Or your purple one? I love that on you." Placing the ruined shirt back into the basket, I offered him an apologetic smile.


    "I promise I’ll go and get you some more in the morning before work, I don''t start til'' ten anyway."


    Without much of a reply from him, I picked up the basket and headed back towards the utility room, figuring that we were in agreement. Within a matter of seconds that assumption was quickly corrected as Jamie somehow got himself up and closed the space between us before I had a second to realise what was coming.


    Jamie had that ability. He could be both quick and quiet when he didn''t want me to have time to defend myself when he advanced on me. He’s tall, standing at a striking 6''1 while also being quite athletic and strong. He can clear his way across a room in twice the time that I can. Often he reminds me of a lion. It''s the way he looks at me, how he watches. He stalks and makes calculations on my next move so that he can beat me to it. I didn''t anticipate this hunt though, and had foolishly made the error of turning my back.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    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 up at Jamie in confusion, but as I did, 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 just to try and silence the pain.


    "Look at me!,” he spat.


    I opened my eyes back up to see that he was now nose to nose with me.


    "I asked you a question," he said, "Are. You. Stupid?" With every word he inched himself closer.


    "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 separately to all of your cheap stuff?"


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


    Jamie dropped his hand from my face, pushing it to the side as he did. I thought he was finished with me, but instead he took my hand and pulled me away from the wall before twisting my arm behind my back and yanking it upwards, sending a burning sensation up into my shoulder.


    A pained cry escaped from my throat.


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


    Jerking my body back toward him, Jamie pulled me flush against him as his mouth pressed against my ear.


    "Why are you so useless?,” he asked. With that he pushed me forward, releasing my arm.


    Wrapping my hand around my wrist, I stood deathly still, completely in shock over his actions. Then I felt another sharp shove between my shoulder blades, moving me towards the shirts that lay on the floor. "Clean that shit up," he said, before striding back across the living room and sitting himself back down on the couch like nothing had happened.


    Grabbing at the shirts, I lifted 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. I can usually anticipate moments like that from Jamie, and I’d managed to avoid pushing his buttons for weeks by being careful. Honestly, I was a little surprised that something so trivial had set him off.


    After awhile, I wiped away my tears and sucked in a breath, telling myself to get it together. I had stuff to do, and feeling sorry for myself wasn''t one of them. Slowly, 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 my wallet up 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 said as he smiled up at me, "Maybe give the visit to Sarah’s a miss today though, you seem a bit run down."


    I lifted my head in surprise, 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. Jamie 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 I’d never told her 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 in a little bit, I love you." With that, he stood and kissed the top of my head, just like always.


    When I got back home later 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.


    Shaking the memory from my mind, I try to push the whole thing away for now. Replaying days like that never does me any good. Instead, I pour the rest of my tea down the drain and decide to make use of being awake this early by going for a run. Maybe some fresh air will clear my mind… or at least silence it for a while.