• Vol. 06
  • Chapter 03
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Free Will

  • I don’t even like Paul, bloody American schmooze! Why did I let him drag me to that dive bar? And why did I end up paying for the tequila shots? I’m probably in overdraft again. And I HATE tequila! Ugh and now I’m late for work. And of course Paul will be on time: not a crease in his stupid seersucker jacket.

  • I don’t turn off the lights because I hate my rippling thighs. Or because I’m shy of him seeing my orgasm face. I insist on the dark because I don’t love him. And it’s a little easier to hide when he doesn’t get to see my dead eyes as he thrusts over me, trying to dispense his duty and muster his desire all at once. Maybe his eyes are dead as well, who knows. It’s been two years of this. My son is five. This isn’t post-partum. Or a phase. Or work stress. When will I stop bullshitting myself?

  • It can’t be 6am already, WTF! It’s too cold, too dark. Maybe I can lie in just this once? No. No, no, no. NO! You’re a suet pudding! And puddings don’t get lie-ins! Why are you paying Kayla that monthly subscription for if you can’t follow her even a little? Look how she’s up bright and early on Instagram every day; with her rainbow salad, 100 burpees and Nike power-whites. She’s practically pleading with you to just do it! Yeah yeah, yesterday was crazy at work, I’ve heard that one before. You want to delete Instagram? Fine do it once you erase the cellulite first! Now run, Pilates is in 10 minutes!


Free Will

  • I know what they are whispering the minute I leave; she’s such a fighter. All the while trying to discreetly check my hairline for any tell-tale signs; has it kicked in yet? Ha, they should come now, first thing in the morning the day after I’m back from my dose. My mouth tastes of dull metal with a hint of vomit. I’d throw up but I’m too tired to try. Be still my beating heart! Oh that’s not my heart after all, just the throbbing injection site, fresh off the benign assault of those unpronounceable medicines. If my hair isn’t falling out already I’m tempted to pull it out. And pull the bloody proverbial plug while I’m at it. But no, wait, I’m such a fighter...