She stood there, eyes starting to brim with her palm out. The torn condom wrapper sat there, unaware of the firestorm I just knew was about to start. What the hell did it care anyway? It already fufilled it's destiny. Fucking wrapper. It's the tell-tale heart, beating madly to the pulse of the vein in my fiancee's forehead. Though, it's not really the wrapper's fault. I should have just thrown it away NOT at home. Suddenly I realized I had spaced out while personifying the trash extended towards my face. Guilt and regret washed over me momentarily before being replaced with dread again.
"What-", she started.
"I..."
She looked away and swallowed with much effort like she'd just ingested a golfball. Lowering her hand, averting her gaze she began again,
"When were you going to tell me?"
"I... I'm horrible. Baby... I..."
Her hands twisted into fists and I flinched as she raised them to her mouth,
"I knew it all along."
"I'm sorry. Baby, you gotta-"
"I always knew you were a sex addict."
I blinked. What. What just. Sex addict?
She started towards me, finally crying and struggling to talk through her small sobs,
"I just want you to know that I love you, and we're going to get you help. Okay, honey?"
She wrapped her arms around my middle and before I knew what was happening I squeaked in reply,
"It's just been so hard."
Was I really saying these words? God, I truly am dispicable. How the fuck did she diagnose me as a sex addict? Should I tell her it was just the one time? Just the one girl? Wait a minute... maybe this is a trap...
She pulled away and looked up at me with teary, sincere eyes, "We have an appointment tomorrow with a therapist. My parents tell me that she's great."
Definitely a trap! Wait, did she just admit that one of her parents is a sex addict? I realized my face was wet too and I wondered where those tears were all stored up.
"Okay, baby. I can't believe you understand."
"Of course I understand," She said with a kiss on the cheek.
I. Am. Horrible.
(And that's all I have for now!)
~C.M. xx
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