“Joey’s … An old friend from Queens.” I know how stupid his reaction to the bear was the first time he ‘met’ him, whether it was in jest or not, it highlighted Jake has a severe jealous side and would probably miss the name of the bear. I hope it makes him suffer in the way he’s making me suffer right now. I hang up just as he explodes. Silencing the onslaught of Carrero abuse and craziness. I stand trying to calm the panic surging through me, my body shaking violently and my nerves trembling. Weak and hysterical, my heart pounding through my chest. I know everything is falling apart around me. My world is crumbling.

I jump as my phone rings and his number flashes across my screen, but I red button him in defiance. He wanted to be an asshole and now he suddenly wants to talk. I reject button him a second time when it rings again.

ANSWER THE FUCKING PHONE!!!! The text beeps on almost as soon as I lay it face down on the bed, inner fear sweeping over me, so my body turns cold and my limbs weaken.

Jake’s angry, angry. Maybe I pushed things too far?

My anger almost drops out of me with insane speed to be replaced with immediate remorse. I should know better than to rile the jealousy card with Jake, it makes him irrational and aggressive, even with me. He sees red and can’t seem to control it. He admitted to me he’s never had any feelings like that in his past, all so new to him and overpowering and I’ve just handed him a lit grenade when he’s drunk and already pissed. I know him. I know his need to lash out and hurt things, hurt people when consumed like this. As a teen he beat his way through a drunken fueled haze many a time and made the headlines. Last thing he needs now is another front-page mess because his girlfriend tipped him over the edge.

What have I done to him? I’m so stupid! So, fucking stupid! I’m supposed to make him a better man, want to be a better man.

I pick up the phone, swaying with indecisiveness and try to call him, my hands shaking violently. Sick with nerves. I get his voicemail and my stomach drops. I try again and again, five times in twenty minutes but I get his voicemail every time and it suddenly dawns on me he’s switched his cell off.

He’s beyond raging with me; he’s gone off the charts angry. I text him quickly, hoping to god he switches it on and sees it before he does something beyond stupid or calls me back.

Jake, I’m sorry, I was angry, please don’t go mad … Joey is the bear you won for me, remember? I’m in my old apartment xxx I love you. I’m sorry.

with the overwhelming feeling of fear tightening my stomach. Choking

that card with him, it’s the guaranteed way to make

he’d done the same to me, I would have flipped the psycho switch and no telling what I would

most agonizing journey, but I need to be there when Jake finally comes home. I need to show him that the only bed I was climbing

Jake … I’m getting a cab back to Manhattan. I’m sorry

breath and swallow down the urge to cry. Body shaking violently, and all resolve gone. Pulling myself together, I call for a cab and get

* * *

and his generosity means it’s more than I realized was even in my purse. It warms me a little knowing he put it there should I ever be caught somewhere in desperate need of assistance; that I had money to

know as soon as I walk in that Jake has never been here. I can just tell from the emptiness and the fact his case is sat by the kitchen counter, that only his things were dropped off and he’s never set foot back in

probably won’t be home for hours if he refuses to turn his phone back on and well, he assumes I’m doing god knows what with someone else. I wouldn’t be surprised if he never comes home at all. I want to find him, but I don’t know how and all I

voicemail immediately. I have no idea where he is or what he’s doing. I want

please come

drift into a hazy tortured sleep,

* * *

by noise in the apartment, I jump in fright realizing the darkness

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