Chapter 5 #2
‘What?’ she said, feeling her pulse quicken as her palms began to sweat.
In a split second he had crossed the floor and grabbed hold of her ponytail.
He yanked her head backwards. She closed her hand over his to stop her hair from pulling too painfully as he marched her over to the mirror.
With his left hand he smeared the lipstick from her lips across her chin, leaving her skin stained red, as if her mouth was bleeding.
‘Ow!’ she screeched, her eyes smarting with tears at the violence of his grip, every follicle hurt as if he was forcing each hair out of her scalp. ‘Stop it!’ she begged.
He let go of her with such force that she staggered backwards, holding up her hands to shelter her face, to protect herself from him. ‘What the fuck do you think you look like with that crap on your face.’ His voice was bitingly cold. ‘Trying to get anyone you can to want you. It’s pathetic.’
‘Noah, please… I promise, that’s not true. I just found the lipstick. I used to wear it all the time, I thought you’d like it… that you’d like to see me looking nice. I wanted to make an effort… for you.’ She tailed off. He was looking at her with such venom.
Trying her best to calm her nerves and steady her breathing, she pulled herself up and took a step towards him, desperate for him to forgive her, to believe her.
‘What am I supposed to think when I see you looking like some kind of tart?’ he scowled. She grabbed the dishcloth from the sink and scrubbed at her lips, leaving them burning and swollen.
‘Look, it’s gone now… I’ll throw it away.
If you don’t like it, I won’t wear it.’ She could hear the begging tone in her voice and she hated herself for it.
She knew that he shouldn’t be speaking to her like this, she knew that his reaction was completely inappropriate, yet at the same time she could feel herself making excuses for him.
She began to question her motives: had she been wearing it to make herself attractive to other men?
Maybe he was right? She knew how stressed he got; she knew he was jealous.
She could have kicked herself for failing to avoid another argument.
She hated conflict more than anything and was always desperate to restore harmony to their relationship whenever Noah flew into one of his rages.
‘Come here,’ she pleaded. She could see tears in his eyes and despite herself her heart wrenched that she had hurt him.
She took another step closer to him and pulled him in for a hug.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. She pulled back and kissed his pursed lips, willing him to lose the rigidity of his stance, to relent.
‘I’m so sorry. There is no one but you, nothing I do is ever for anyone but you. But I promise, it won’t happen again.’
He stood in her arms, rigid as a block of marble.
She kissed him again, a tear rolling down her cheek.
Just when she thought he was going to push her away, relief coursed through her as she felt him soften against her.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer.
Suddenly he was kissing her urgently, his intensity almost overwhelming.
She breathed a sigh of relief. It was over, another black mood had passed.
Each time it happened it was so unnerving, it took all her powers of persuasion to help him let it go.
Sometimes it lasted for days, sometimes hours, sometimes a few minutes…
the worst had been over a week. It wasn’t healthy, she knew that.
She had never told anyone about it, not that she really had anyone to tell.
Her old friends had given up on her years ago, having failed in their attempts to rescue her from the monopoly Noah held her in.
She told herself it was an unfortunate character trait, she knew he had inherited it from his dad, that sometimes he saw red and lost control of his emotions.
She felt she couldn’t really blame him for it, it was just the way he was.
She remembered her mum’s advice, ‘You can only change yourself. No one will change for you. It must come from within.’
He ripped the shirt off her body, biting her stained lip a fraction too hard before kneeling down to kiss her breastbone, her stomach, then her upper thighs as he pulled her jeans down.
She tried to forget what had happened as he removed the last of her clothes, to let the argument go and lose herself in the moment, but her body still felt flushed with adrenaline, in fight or flight mode.
Eventually the sensations within her began to take over and thoughts of his aggressive behaviour disappeared as she became lost in his touch.
Afterwards he held her in his arms and stroked her hair as their breathing slowed.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. ‘I’m sorry if I hurt you.’
She paused for a minute or two, allowing the weight of his apology to settle over them both, as if to mark its importance.
‘It’s okay,’ she said, lifting her head to kiss him.
And she meant it. She knew that he wouldn’t have grabbed her like that if she hadn’t given him reason.
She knew that he had told her before that he didn’t like her wearing too much makeup.
If she could wind back the clock she would never have put on that stupid lipstick, she never would have exacerbated his already fractious mood after a stressful week.
Helena would do anything for a peaceful life.
She definitely wasn’t one of those people who enjoyed arguments in a relationship.
She cowered away from conflict; it didn’t excite her or give her the thrill in the prospect of making up that she knew some couples could become addicted to.
The more she got to know Noah, the more she knew how he worked, what he liked and disliked, what wound him up and what she could do to keep him happy.
Every time he went nuclear on her she tried to console herself with the fact that it was another lesson learned, another thing she could avoid doing or saying in future.
She hoped that one day there would be no more treading on eggshells, that there would be no more lessons left to learn.
That Noah would finally be happy and content, all the time, without these horrible flashes of rage, for Raffy’s sake, but also, for her own.
That she would finally stop feeling lonely when she was clearly no longer alone.