Page 71 of Waiting Game

This was the whole issue that Pete and I had in the first place - the way that he spoke to me.

“Why not?” I snapped back.

“Because I told you to stay away from him,” his voice got louder.

The anger was not a good look on him, and I found myself disgusted.

The fact that he was trying to intimidate me, as if he could, after everything that I had seen and theactualscary men that I had been surrounded by.

“Okay, first things first,” I said, putting my glass of water down hard, “we were not together when I left, Pete. And second, even if we were, you cannot dictate who I do and do not talk to.”

He shook his head, walking back towards the lounge room, raking his hands through his hair.

I followed him, “this is what I’ve been saying, Pete. You can’t talk to me the way that you do. I know that you’re a good guy, but sometimes you can be really disrespectful.”

He scoffed, “good guy?” he shook his head, “and where has that got me? Being a good guy?”

I frowned as he turned towards me, the anger plain on his face.

“You know what being a good guy got me? Nothing. I’ve been here alone, waiting for you to come back, while you’ve been whoring around with your ex in Melbourne.”

“Pete!” I snapped.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he challenged, stepping close and getting into my face.

“Pete, you’re scaring me, stop,” I stepped back, but he grabbed me by the shoulders.

“You know what, Valerie? I’m so fucking sick of being the good guy, and getting nothing for it. Do you want a guy like him? A piece of shit fucking ‘bad boy’?” he put in air quotations.

I shook my head, looking up at him with caution as an expression I had never seen before took over his face.

“I can be that,” he said, pushing me backwards and towards the couch. I fell back, falling onto the pillows at one end of the couch. I scooted back as he came towards me.

He watched me cower as he unbuttoned his pants.

“Don’t come near me,” I warned, and he laughed.

Pete leaned over me, pinning my hands above my head.

I wiggled underneath him, trying to free myself from his hold.

He leaned down and grabbed my chin, holding my head in place so he could kiss me. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t pull away, I had to lay there while he slobbered all over my lips, which was his version of kissing.

He put his hands down my underwear, moving and fumbling around.

I thrashed harder, and managed to pull free by bringing up a knee and hitting him hard between the legs. He groaned, falling forwards onto the couch as I slipped down off of it, and I retreated to the kitchen again, as far away from him as I could.

He laughed once he recovered, making his way back over to me.

“Don’t come near me,” I warned, folding my arms across myself.

His eyes wandered up and down my body as he stalked towards me, it was as if he was getting off on the fear that I was sure was plastered on my face. My jaw hardened as his fingers reached for my face once again.

“I’m warning you. Don’t,” I said.

He laughed again and closed the space between us. Instead of flinching away from him, instead of cowering and running as I usually did, I pulled my arm back and curled my fingers into a fist - and punched him in the nose as hard as I could.

Pete stumbled back slightly, holding his nose as blood began to pour from it. I wrapped a hand around my fist, my knuckles sore from the impact.

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