Page 34 of Perfect
This morning wasn’t a dream, thathappened.
Theo’shere, in my kitchen.
Oh, god. He’s probably going to keep me alive for a while before he kills me.
I steel myself before I open my bedroom door slowly, peeking out into the living room. I have the distinct feeling that I’m looking into an alternate universe. There’s a huge bouquet of pink peonies on my coffee table, a row of gift bags lined up neatly on the breakfast bar, and I can smell something sweet and cinnamony from the kitchen. I walk slowly through the living room, peering into the kitchen, where I see Theo standing at the stove in a pair of joggers and a t-shirt, his posture relaxed and his hair a little messy. He looks up and sees me, his faint dimples appearing as his mouth picks up into a crooked, affectionate smile.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, his voice warm and slightly raspy from sleep. “I’m making French toast. You want coffee?” I blink slowly, confused. My brain isn’t working right, because I can’t understand anything that’s happening. His smile falters when I don’t respond, and he comes into the living room, reaching out for me.
My body floods with fear and a familiar helplessness, and I flinch away from him. His face becomes confused and hurt as Iback away from him quickly, my shoulder hitting the door frame of my bedroom.
“Alex, are you okay?” My brain comes back online fast as he reaches for me again.
I didn’t leave Boston to die likethis.
“Don’t touch me, you fuckingpsycho!” I shriek, shoving past him and running into the kitchen, grabbing the big kitchen knife from the drawer and spinning to face him. I see him walking towards me slowly, his hands up in a placating manner, and I thrust the knife out in front of me.
“Don’t move!” He frowns but doesn’t come any closer.
“Alex, put the knife down,” he says slowly, his voice low and soothing.
“No!”
“Um, okay,” he says, frowning and glancing to my right. “Can you please turn off the stove and move the pan off the heat? The toast is burning.” I’d think he was trying to distract me if I didn’t smell the burning from next to me, but I keep my eyes on him as I reach out blindly, finding the correct knob and turning it off.
I reach for the handle of the pan but grab the hot rim instead, shoving it backward as I cry out in pain. I clutch my burnt hand to my chest, keeping the knife raised towards Theo as he stares at my hand in horror.
“Sweetheart, I can tell you’re upset, butpleaselet me look at your hand. That pan was really hot.” I hesitate before I raise my hand, my palm facing him, and he grimaces. “Fuck. Okay, um, shit. How about you keep the knife, but you let me bandage you up?" He walks backward slowly, watching me as he heads towards the first aid kit he left on the coffee table.
My eyes dart towards the door.
“Stay right there,” he says, noticing me glance at the door. “Run your hand under some cold water.” He keeps his eyes on me, only briefly glancing away to rifle through the first aid kit, soI don’t think I can make a run for it. I move quickly, setting down the knife to turn on the faucet. The cold water stings my hand, and I hiss in pain as Theo walks slowly back into the kitchen with gauze and a small roll of tape, looking concerned. I snatch up the knife and point it toward him, trying and failing to keep my hand from shaking.
We stand there, staring at each other and the quivering knife between us.
Theo takes a deep breath and tries to smile.
“Alex, I’m not going to hurt you, Ipromise, so will you please let me look at your hand?” I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying. This man broke into my house, raped me, and now he’s going to kill me. I know I shouldn’t let him touch me, but my hand really hurts.
I need some kind of control over this situation.
“If you make one wrong move, I’ll fucking kill you,” I say, trying to sound tough even though I can hear my voice wavering. Theo nods and moves very slowly, turning off the water and looking at my palm closely, seeming more upset about my hand than the knife I’ve got a few inches away from his body. He starts to dry my hand carefully with a paper towel.
“It doesn’t look too bad, probably just a first-degree burn,” he says quietly. “Let me wrap you up.” He’s so gentle as he places gauze across my palm, and I get distracted for a second by how nice it is to be cared for. I lose focus, watching the way he carefully presses down the tape on my hand, obviously trying not to hurt me.
Losing focus is a fucking mistake.
One of his hands shoots out and grabs my wrist, twisting hard and fast, and the knife drops out of my hand, skittering across the floor and under the fridge. Theo’s face becomes tense and frustrated, and I scream as he backs me into the wall. Hepins me with his hips, one hand still on my wrist, the other coming up and gripping my jaw, lifting my gaze to meet his.
“If you’re upset with me, fuckingtalkto me. Don’teverthreaten me with violence again. That’s not how we’re going to handle conflict, understood?” I stare at him blankly.
What thefuck?
I’m so scared and confused that I’m completely unresisting as he pulls me away from the wall, leading me out of the kitchen and pushing me gently down onto the couch. He goes back into the kitchen and returns with two cups of coffee, sitting next to me and handing me one, but my hand is shaking so badly that the coffee spills over the rim. He runs his hand through his hair, exhaling harshly.
“Okay, why don’t you tell me why you’re upset? That came out of fucking nowhere.” Is he joking? I set the coffee down on the table slowly, my mind racing.
“Why are you doing this?”
