Teaser for you part three

Herewith chapters 7-9. You need to click on the link to read part one first, then part two, before reading part three. Comments and input welcome.

Chapter 7: Billy

Hiccups. I hate them. You have no control of your body. Every time I get a hiccup spasm, my whole body jerks and I bump my head. This cave is far too small for me, I can barely move. Forget about stretching my legs and arms. It just can't happen anymore. Whereas before I felt safe and protected, now I feel confined and claustrophobic. I just want to get out.

I am so frustrated locked in here, in this small space. Lately, I've been crying. Silent sobs. Gulping in fluid like a goldfish. I cry for someone to come and save me and remove me from here. I have done my time. I have been imprisoned long enough. But although I can hear them, nobody can hear me. So I am trapped. Alone in my cave, alone in my world, alone with my thoughts. Solitary confinement. What did I do to deserve this? My bottom lip trembles and I have no control of that either.

Please God, hear my prayer. Please help me to leave this dark place. Whereas before, the darkness was comforting and friendly, now it's encroaching and moving closer so that it scares me. Tethered to the cave wall like a dog chained to a tree, I am becoming fearful. Scared of being swallowed up by the dark, scared of being restrained, scared of never leaving my solitary confinement. But most of all, scared that when I leave the dark and enter the light, I won't be loved.

Chapter 8: Carly

Carly lay back in the lazy-boy chair and leaned back so the footrest came up. There was something mindless on the television. Some soap opera that she'd last watched a month or so ago, that didn't seem to have progressed much in that month. Carly closed her eyes and sighed. Back three days and I wish I was gone again. It's nothing Chris did wrong. Sometimes, things in life are not meant to be, and Chris and I are one of those things. He brings out the worst in me, and I think it's because he expected me to be someone I'm not. He had this vision of his dream woman and I haven't lived up to his vision. Nobody can live up to that vision. It's totally unrealistic. Sometimes I see the disappointment in his eyes when he looks at me, and I hate that because it makes me feel guilty. When I feel guilty, I just want to go out and forget about it and have fun with someone else. When I'm with someone else, then I feel guilty, so I need to have more fun to forget about my guilt. I'm trapped in this vicious cycle. I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't.

Carly opened her eyes. On the television screen, the overly attractive man was still trying to flirt with the blonde woman with the over-developed bust and botoxed face done by a greedy plastic surgeon who was obviously overly creative and in the wrong profession. I mean, look at those lips in a permanent fish pout and those cheekbones. No way were they natural! Carly slowly eased herself out of the chair and stared miserably at her swollen ankles. "Jeez, look at me!" she exclaimed as she got to her feet. That fake blonde on the TV definitely didn't have ankles like these.
Carly shuffled across to the spare bedroom that Chris had painted a pastel baby blue when she was away. He was stenciling on some wall decoration that looked like a teddy bear.

"Looking good, Chris." Chris stopped what he was doing and gave Carly a look that made her want to cry. The hurt was written all over his face, but all he did was shrug and carry on painting. Not a word had he said to her since she'd returned from an extended weekend away. The silent treatment. Probably worse than fighting. At least with an argument and shouting, you get it all out and then it's over. But Chris bottled it all up inside. It was like he'd switched on an 'ignore' button or something. "Talk to me Chris. Say something, dammit!" Chris just shrugged and continued to stencil in teddy bears in a broad strip halfway down the wall, all around the room.

"Jeez, now you're angry because I'm the only one here that has a life!" snapped Carly as she went into the kitchen to get herself a beer. The truth was, beer made her feel queasy and she didn't enjoy the taste anymore. But, if anything would get Chris to speak, it would be her drinking a beer in front of him. He'd read that women who drink while pregnant give their babies foetal alcohol syndrome. The more he told her to stop, the more she drank. Just to annoy him.
Carly opened the fridge and took the last beer. Bastard hadn't bought her anymore. Opening the can, she headed back to the baby's bedroom to taunt him further. "What's the matter with you?" Carly took a noisy slurp of the beer so that Chris stopped what he was doing and turned to look at her. "Can't you read, you dumbfuck? I wrote quite clearly on the shopping list we needed more beer." Still, Chris didn't say anything. Didn't take the bait. He was so stubborn, sometimes Carly thought she could hit him over the head with a bottle just to get him to stop being so damn mulish about things.
"Hey, I'm talking to you deaf boy. Why didn't you buy me more beer?" Carly could feel tears of frustration welling in her eyes. Being nice to him didn't make him talk. Verbally abusing him didn't make him talk. God, he's freaking me out!

Chris turned around and gave Carly a look that made her turn away in shame. It was a look, so cold and hard, so unforgiving, like she was a piece of dogshit underneath his shoe. He doesn't need words to say what he feels, thought Carly. All he has to do, is give me that look. Carly pursed her lips and glared at Chris before downing the beer in one long swallow. She stomped off to the kitchen, threw away the empty can, and went straight to the phone in the hall. "I'll fucking show him," Carly muttered, "This'll teach him to ignore me!" Carly picked up the receiver and dialled the number she knew so well.

Chapter 9: Chris

When I got Carly's note, I dropped off my shopping, and went out for a burger. I needed to think and work out some plans. At first I thought that Carly's erratic behaviour and drinking was just hormonal because of the pregnancy. Now i realise, she just doesn't like me. That's okay, I've decided I don't like her much either. She's got the looks but she's got the personality of a dead fish. Actually, I was a bit relieved she went away for a dirty weekend and left me with the house to myself. Okay, maybe I was a little pissed she'd gone for a dirty weekend, as that means she's getting some and I'm getting nothing. Anyway, I finished my burger, went to a bar, had a couple of vodkas and made my mind up how I was going to deal with things. I must confess, I hate beer. I'm a vodka man. Na zdorovje! To Mother Russia.

I left the bar and stopped off at a hardware store and bought some paint stuff and picked out this really cool blue paint. The ultrasound scan a couple of weeks back had apparently showed that Carly was carrying a boy. I wasn't there to see it but hoped the bloody doctor had got it right as I got blue for the baby's room. So my plan is to get the baby's room sorted and ready for the arrival. About a month more. Jeez, can't wait, and then if she leaves, I don't care, but that baby ain't going anywhere. Carly I can live without. She's more trouble than she's worth.

Other than getting the baby's room ready and kitted out, my other plan was to ignore her. The way to drive that piece of trailer park trash crazy, is to ignore her. Man, she is such an attention-whore it's unbelievable. Probably why I was attracted to her. I need to rethink my choosing a woman criteria. Not for now, but for the future. Jeez, last thing I need on my plate now is another woman. One at a time is more than enough for me.
I knew she'd get pissed if I didn't buy her beer, but seriously, drinking while pregnant is not good at all. I've lost all respect for her. Seriously, she has no class at all. For me now, all she is is an incubator for my son. If I look on her that way, then I can remain calm and not let her get to me. The last thing I need is for her to goad me into some kind of reaction that I regret later or can be punished for.

With each brushstroke of that baby blue pastel paint, I planted another brick to build a wall around my heart. By the time she returned from getting her brains bonked all weekend, I swear I could smell sex emanating from her every pore, my heart was completely enclosed by that brick wall. Impenetrable. Strong. A veritable fortress. It was all I could do to protect myself from the hurt I knew would be unleashed on me.

I finish the last stenciled teddybear, clean my brushes. God, I need a strong double vodka. My back is killing me, I've been painting and stencilling on and off for about five days solid. Been alternating between painting and going to workout at the gym. If you are heartsore, then physical labour cures all evils. You need to take your mind off stuff. Jeez, I want the room to be perfect for the baby. I want to make up for his piece-of-shit mother. She's on the phone, so I pour myself a double vodka on ice, and settle myself in the lounge on the lazy boy easy chair. I turn the sound down on the TV, so that I can hear every word of her phone conversation. Yeah, it's eavesdropping, but this is my house. I can do what I want. And seeing that I'm no longer talking to her, I can't exactly ask questions to find out what is going on. I leave again in a couple of days and will only be back for the birth. May as well find out what I can now.

Carly knows I'm listening. She obviously heard the TV go on mute. So what does she do, she talks louder, to make sure that I hear every wretched word from her mouth. Bitch, but I think I'm getting over the hurt now. The urge to laugh is almost uncontrollable. Jeez, she is so pathetic with her obvious little games.
"Yeah, no problem this weekend sounds great!" I hear Carly say, "Goodbye baby! I love you too!"
And the knife finds it's way through my wall I worked so hard to build, my impenetrable fortress, and finds its way straight to my heart. Before I can stop it, the tears roll down my cheeks.