That was a thing we were studying in art class. ACCKKK! I felt something pointed, something sharp, being dragged up my left thigh. Oh, God, no, they’re going to cut me up and kill me. I could feel my nylons running, the torn weave in them lessening the light pressure where they made contact on the skin of my legs. I’m not going to live through this. Then they did the same to the other leg. They dragged whatever it was down the inside of my right thigh. The nylons parted as the implement was pulled along. I lost control and peed my pants. I shook, shuddered, my chest heaving, unable to catch my breath. I felt like every emotion, every possible way of expressing or experiencing fear and uncertainty I’d ever felt fired at once. It almost consumed me. I’m going to bleed to death. I’m going to die. Here. Tonight. Now.My heart was beating so fast and so hard, I could hear it. I could feel it in my chest moving, pulsing, rapidly. I yelled into the cloth, “What did I do to deserve to die?”. ”I stood there, staring at her with my soup spoon crumpled into a twisted wreck in my clenched fist. I’d been ranting at her like a madman. I was enraged and embarrassed and ashamed. No matter what I said and did, she ended up with her own way and it pissed me off. I was embarrassed that she knew every detail of every move I made and ashamed that she’d finally pushed me to betray my marriage like she had. I wasn’t prepared to talk to her about that and she wasn’t about to respect me enough to give me the space to process what was going on in my head.The look on her face was priceless. If I wasn’t so ready to murder her and brave the consequences, I’d snap a picture to preserve that look. She was shocked to her core that I’d talk to her like that. “John,” she started in an unsteady whisper. “I ... Why didn’t you tell me that...”“Why didn’t I tell you that I despise the way you keep pushing me and Cecilia together? Why didn’t I tell you I had no interest in a house? I fucking DID! You.
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