A few hours went by, and I heard names of various companies I never knew about; I heard things about the stock market which I didn't and will never understand; I heard some dirty jokes I wanted to cringe at; that was rounding it up all in all.
And for what I saw, I saw these partly ugly men groping their mistresses, I saw the disgust in the ladies eyes, and I saw the men staring at a waitress who had a few more buttons of her blouse open than necessary.
What had I not seen today? I have never seen the menu falling in my bag, and nobody else had as well, no one stopping me from bringing it with me.
And, I would never return it ever again. Who even returns something to an expensive restaurant; they should have enough of them.
Although simply decorated from the outside and in the lobby, the rooms were all high-end, and I suspect the booklet cover to be of real gold. When I'm home, I will take a bite to see if it would leave a mark.
Now, I was standing in between the men as they drunkenly bid each other goodbye. We have missed dinner, and it is nearly midnight. I fell into a hunger-induced lethargy once again, but luckily nobody spoke to me.
There were a few tries to find out more about me and Thomas, but they were all silenced by him. I don't even know why he came here today, not speaking at all, only judging them with icy glances.
My husband had stood up normally, and also behaved normally while he stared at them in an attempt to bid his farewell in his own creepy way.
However, the moment we were in the car, he pulled at his tie and slid a bit down for a more comfortable position. I have never seen him not prim and proper, except when he was molesting me in my sleep, where I was turned away from him; only seeing him like this now was something new. It was fascinating that he was apparently really drunk, but it was also dangerous.
However, there was no cutlery, and there was no knife I could fetch from home because we came directly from school.
The bouncy balls wouldn't knock Thomas out if he went too far; the little booklet, however, may be able to if I hit him hard enough.
My bag was on my lap, so I placed my hand inside, gripping the makeshift weapon I had decided on, ready to strike anytime.
He leaned his head back and had his eyes closed as he rolled up his sleeves. Initially, I had just observed him out of the corner of my eye, but what I saw was so shocking; although the car wasn't really well lit, my head whipped to him.
His arm—no, his arms; I can't really say he had scars; it was more like he had been skinned, in different layers. As if big parts of his skin and flesh were just missing.
I have never in my life seen something like this; no accident could explain why his arms would look like this.
Thomas chuckled, and when I looked up, I saw that his head was tilted to me, his light eyes watching me openly, his body in an awfully casual pose, making him appear younger.
"What the hell happened?" I blurted out, not knowing how to process that I had seen this. I wasn't even in the state to feel pity for him; it was just such grisly wounds; the picture would forever be burned into my mind.
"Secret." Thomas put a finger on his lips, smiling lightly, and I couldn't match up the boyish charm he emitted with the man who wanted to discipline me with a rod, or the psycho who had whipped his son.
His movement showed the inside of his other arm, which was marred with the same horrifying wounds. I would go as far and think his whole arms are in that state from what I have seen. I couldn't look away from the light eyes that were peering at me like I would understand. I don't know what he thought I could understand at all.
Wait, had this creep seen my back? No, right? That would mean he had looked into my sleepwear, right?
Between my shoulder blades was a similar wound, from when I fell from a tree into a fire place. I don't remember anymore, but my grandma told me, saying that it looks so strange because I got into contact with sharp heated stones or something like this.
So he saw my scars while molesting me, and now he showed me his, and now we are fellow sufferers?
At this moment, besides being furious and creeped out by Thomas, I still couldn't tear myself away from his gaze, it wasn't like Jude that sucked you into the abyss, instead it was the light eyes piercing through me, partly not seeing me, partly far too focused on me.
His finger moved from his lips, his eyes flicked away to watch the outside—the moment was finally over.
Liberated, I also turned my head, my grip on the golden booklet loosening.
The moment I let my breath loose, Thomas disfigured arm grabbed my arm, and pressed my upper body down on his lap. Putting his other arm on the back of my neck, I was caged between his right arm and tight, my breasts in between his legs, while his other tight pressed against my waist.
Instead of panicking, I held still. In this position, I wasn't able to overpower him. My bag was pressed between us, my back was turned to Thomas, and he could either break my neck or strangle me easily if he wanted, only needing to press his forearm down.
I had to wait and see what he wanted; he would neither kill me on a whim (I hope), and if he wanted to force me to give him a blowjob, the position would be far too off.
I felt his arms moving, and the next moment I heard the fabric of my dress tear.
Miscalculated. Damn. Whatever enters my mouth, I swear I bite it off.
But he didn't move after he had freed my back, even opening my bra. What the... Did he want to see my scar?
What the hell? Can't you ask nicely, you psycho??
Nearly got me a heart attack.
In the midst of calling down, I felt Thomas' mouth on the scar on my back, sucking on it. My heart raced, and my breath hitched; my anger spiked.
I will kill him. This psycho fucker, I will kill him.