Page 1 of How to Trust a Hellhound
Chapter 1
Josh
Isat on the kitchen floor leaning against the cabinets, tears streaming down my face, my head buried in my knees.
“I can’t take this shit, Josh. I really can’t. It’s always something with you. It’s fucking ridiculous,” Rick ranted.
I couldn’t even look up at him. He would see the tears, and he’d only get madder when he did. Crying always set him off.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, and I couldn’t help the hitch in my voice.
“Jesus fucking Christ, are you crying now? Fucking seriously?” he said, and I heard his voice coming closer.
Shit. He grabbed my arms, dragging me up. I winced—there would be bruises later.
“Fucking look at you. Sobbing because, what? I didn’t tell you that you have a nice ass? I didn’t tell you how much I love you today? I had a hard fucking day at work, and all you can think about is yourself,” he yelled.
He shoved me back into the cabinets, a handle digging into my back. I winced in pain and couldn’t help the little sob that escaped.
“Fucking absurd,” he muttered, walking away.
“I just asked… I just needed…” I started, but Rick interrupted me.
“I just asked, I just needed,” he mocked in a high-pitched voice. “You’realwaysjust needing. That’s the fucking problem, Josh. I don’t know anyone else who would put up with your shit.”
I don’t know where the anger came from, but it was just so unfair, and I was tired of it. “I just wanted something nice!” I burst out. “Is it so horrible to ask myboyfriendto say something nice to me? To make me feel appreciated?”
He slammed his hand against the wall, making me jump, but I didn’t back down.
“I just wanted some time with you where we weren’t arguing.” I laughed tearily. “I guess that’s too much to ask for.”
“Fucking bullshit, Josh. Maybe if you didn’t constantly come at me this wouldn’t be a fucking argument. YouknowI’m in a bad mood. YouknowI had a rough day. I fucking told you that, and then I come home to your bullshit. You’re always off galavanting with your fucking friends and ignoring me, whether or not I need you. Maybe you should ask them to say something nice, since you put them before me all the time.” He stared at me, his face angry. “What about whatIneed?”
That wasn’t fair. I always listened to him complain. I always tried to support him. I’d gone out less with my friends because I knew he didn’t like them, but I wasn’t willing to give them up, and he hated that. I only went out with Toby and Sebbie when he wasn’t around.
“I always try to be there for you. If you don’t think so, then why are you even with me?” I said, unable to stop the tears no matter how hard I tried.
“I have no fucking idea why I’m with you sometimes, Josh, because I have to deal with shit like this all the fucking time! It’s always you, you, you. You’re whiny, boring as fuck, and an uptight control freak. You’re lucky I’m with you, because no one else would deal with your issues. I sure as fuck don’t get anything from this,” he yelled.
“You don’t seem to think that when you’re fucking me or spending my money,” I muttered resentfully.
I knew the moment the words were out that it was the wrong thing to say. His face went totally flat, all expression gone. He walked over and shoved me against the counters, the handle digging into my back again. I refused to look away, though.
“What did you fucking say?” he asked.
I should’ve dropped it. I knew money was a sore point with Rick. Iknewit was. But I couldn’t seem to help my mouth. I was crying, but I was mad, too, because I wasn’t wrong this time. At least I didn’t think I was. Not totally.
“It’s like I’m the bank of Josh and you’re just here to make withdrawals,” I spat out.
The slap whipped my head to the side, and god, it hurt. I barely had time to process the sting before Rick grabbed my wrist, pressure tight, like he was grinding the bones together. He pulled me into the bedroom, pushing me toward the bed. I managed to keep my balance, just barely.
He started dragging shit out of my closet, throwing clothes at me.
“I spend too much? What about all your expensive clothes? What about your fucking hobbies—never too much to spend money on your hobbies, is it? Going out to dinner with friends—plenty of money for that, isn’t there? Or maybe they’re more than friends, hmm?” he ranted.
I slid down, leaning against the bed, crying as clothes were thrown at me, some landing on me, some landing next to me. I huddled down and covered my head as the barrage continued, hangers occasionally hitting me.
“And I give youexactlywhat you want in bed, so don’t act like that’s some kind of hardship. You’re a selfish prick, Josh. I can’t deal with your fucking attitude and drama,” he yelled, and then the rainfall of clothes stopped, and I heard him walk out of the room. There was muttering and yelling from the other room, then the sound ofthings being knocked around. Something smashed, and something else fell. When the front door slammed, I jumped at the sound.
