and he knew that it made her hate him all the more, but there was nothing he could do about it now. The dice had already been rolled.
When he finally gave in, and let her adopt that little shit kid, he knew that it was all over for him. He would never have a chance to win her over. At first, he thought it would help her to see how much he really cared for her. He had truly tried everything he could to win her over, but when he offered to buy her things, she refused. She didn’t need fancy clothes and the house was fine the way it was she had told him over and over. She just wanted a child, and he was clearly disappointing her by not giving her one. So he gave in. And now she loved the kid more than he would ever love her.
Why can’t she see how I look at her? She’s so wrapped up in that snot nosed brat that she can’t even see me. She barely even lets me touch her now.
He knew that hitting the kid was bad for his cause, but when he drank the whiskey, he couldn’t stop himself. He knew the kid liked him because she looked at him, always waiting for him to talk to her, but he never liked kids. They were loud, snotty, needy, and they always broke shit. He never wanted one.
He tried, for Rose’s sake, to be nice to her. He even bought her stuff as Daddy’s were supposed to do, and that seemed to make Rose happy. But when it was clear that he was always going to be at the bottom of the barrel in Rose’s eyes, he figured it didn’t matter anymore what he did. Maybe if he just drank his whiskey, and did what came natural, she would at least pay attention to him more. And she did.
When I’m hitting her, at least I get to touch her. I can make her look at me, and I can punish her for not loving me, for taunting me. I can at least put my face close to hers, breathing her in. It’s the only time I can get close to her, push myself against her, and wrap my hands around her neck. I can feel her heart pounding through her chest. I can hurt her the way that she is hurting me. I must be the only crazy man to love such a plain looking bitch like her. How dare she not love me? She doesn’t even try!
He knew that he wasn’t an ugly man. He was rough and rugged. His hands were permanently stained with dirt and grease in the cracks of his skin, but he earned an honest living. Despite being a little thin from drinking too much, he knew that his body had held up pretty well for his age. He was strong and looked decent in his Sunday suit. He even got some looks now and then from the ladies in town. But Rose never looked at him.
He knew that after he started hitting the kid, he would never have a chance with Rose. But he hated that needy kid. The kid stood between Rose and him. Thomas knew that she was the only person in the world that Rose loved.
He was surprised when Rose started cooking for him. She could only cook two decent meals, but now she made one at least once a week for him. On that night, she always sent the kid away. Is it because she is starting to love?
“How was your day?” Rose asked tentatively.
“Fine,” he said in his usual low, gravelly tone. He was surprised she was talking to him, because she never initiated conversation,“Yours?”
“It was fine. I went to the store and got some things. I got that chocolate cream pie you like.” Rose said quietly.
Thomas grunted in acknowledgement, “Thanks.”
He liked the quiet. The kid talked too much. He liked when she wasn’t there. When she was, she and Rose chattered like a couple of magpies. He always took his dinner into the TV room, and shut the door so he didn’t have to listen to their constant chitchat. When he came home, he didn’t want to hear all the noise. He just wanted quiet. He liked when the kid was gone, and it was just him and Rose. He could sneak looks at her over his glass, and she would sit and ignore him in silence. It was unusual for her to talk to him, and he liked it. He liked the sound of her voice.
“Maybe after dinner, we
When he finally gave in, and let her adopt that little shit kid, he knew that it was all over for him. He would never have a chance to win her over. At first, he thought it would help her to see how much he really cared for her. He had truly tried everything he could to win her over, but when he offered to buy her things, she refused. She didn’t need fancy clothes and the house was fine the way it was she had told him over and over. She just wanted a child, and he was clearly disappointing her by not giving her one. So he gave in. And now she loved the kid more than he would ever love her.
Why can’t she see how I look at her? She’s so wrapped up in that snot nosed brat that she can’t even see me. She barely even lets me touch her now.
He knew that hitting the kid was bad for his cause, but when he drank the whiskey, he couldn’t stop himself. He knew the kid liked him because she looked at him, always waiting for him to talk to her, but he never liked kids. They were loud, snotty, needy, and they always broke shit. He never wanted one.
He tried, for Rose’s sake, to be nice to her. He even bought her stuff as Daddy’s were supposed to do, and that seemed to make Rose happy. But when it was clear that he was always going to be at the bottom of the barrel in Rose’s eyes, he figured it didn’t matter anymore what he did. Maybe if he just drank his whiskey, and did what came natural, she would at least pay attention to him more. And she did.
When I’m hitting her, at least I get to touch her. I can make her look at me, and I can punish her for not loving me, for taunting me. I can at least put my face close to hers, breathing her in. It’s the only time I can get close to her, push myself against her, and wrap my hands around her neck. I can feel her heart pounding through her chest. I can hurt her the way that she is hurting me. I must be the only crazy man to love such a plain looking bitch like her. How dare she not love me? She doesn’t even try!
He knew that he wasn’t an ugly man. He was rough and rugged. His hands were permanently stained with dirt and grease in the cracks of his skin, but he earned an honest living. Despite being a little thin from drinking too much, he knew that his body had held up pretty well for his age. He was strong and looked decent in his Sunday suit. He even got some looks now and then from the ladies in town. But Rose never looked at him.
He knew that after he started hitting the kid, he would never have a chance with Rose. But he hated that needy kid. The kid stood between Rose and him. Thomas knew that she was the only person in the world that Rose loved.
He was surprised when Rose started cooking for him. She could only cook two decent meals, but now she made one at least once a week for him. On that night, she always sent the kid away. Is it because she is starting to love?
“How was your day?” Rose asked tentatively.
“Fine,” he said in his usual low, gravelly tone. He was surprised she was talking to him, because she never initiated conversation,“Yours?”
“It was fine. I went to the store and got some things. I got that chocolate cream pie you like.” Rose said quietly.
Thomas grunted in acknowledgement, “Thanks.”
He liked the quiet. The kid talked too much. He liked when she wasn’t there. When she was, she and Rose chattered like a couple of magpies. He always took his dinner into the TV room, and shut the door so he didn’t have to listen to their constant chitchat. When he came home, he didn’t want to hear all the noise. He just wanted quiet. He liked when the kid was gone, and it was just him and Rose. He could sneak looks at her over his glass, and she would sit and ignore him in silence. It was unusual for her to talk to him, and he liked it. He liked the sound of her voice.
“Maybe after dinner, we
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