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Anonymous Thu 20 Jun 2024 02:35:08 No.66749777 Report

Quoted By: >>66750016 >>66750040 >>66750052 >>66750092

>>66746808
>>66748959
fuck it, wild card, I'm tweaking the prompt slightly
we've been on a schizo roll tonight, I wanna contribute
E2 anon/schizoid wife time

>I don't think I could wish a worse fate on someone than not feeling welcome in your own home.
>I speak from experience.
>The steel mill's absolute ass.
>Grueling, boring work. In the winter you're battling frostbite all night. Right now, in the summer, the heat's mind-numbing outside and even worse inside near the smelt-shops.
>Dangerous fucking work. I've seen lines of fresh, cherry-hot bars go wild off the rails and race through the air like they're made of paper. You can't think, you gotta duck and get clear, or else you'll end up like that Psittaco jerkoff who gets ripped in half in the safety vids. You know the one.
>I like to tell myself it's better than having had to go to the military.
>It pays well enough for being blue collar.
>But goddamnit, I feel more exhausted each day compared to the last.

>And somehow, despite all of that, the worst part about my day is coming home from work.

>I love Wendy.
>I tell myself she loves me.
>She's just difficult.
>During our lunch break, I tell my work-buddies that living with her is like rolling dice every evening.
>It makes them chuckle.
>But I'm not laughing.
>I'm tired of sitting in the cab of our car in the driveway, preparing myself for whatever fresh bullshit is going to wait for me tonight.
>I'm tired of having to eat reprocessed horseshit because she's not in the headspace to cook us something to eat again tonight.
>I'm tired of sleeping on the couch because she's too wound up to be around that night.

>I love Wendy, I remind myself as I turn off the ignition.
>She loves me, I reassure myself as I make the march from the car door to the front door.
>She's just difficult, I murmur to the doorknob as I unlock it and allow myself in.

cont

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Anonymous Thu 20 Jun 2024 02:47:00 No.66750052 Report

Quoted By: >>66750092 >>66750313

>>66749777
>I roll the dice as the door swings open.
>50/50.
>I might be getting the sweet woman the makes all of this worth it, just a little bit so.
>Or I'm getting her again.
>The distinct...Nothingness-smell in the air is already beginning to make me lean in the direction of the latter.
>No cooking. No candles. No nothing. Just recycled air and the faint furniture-musk that you grow so used to that you don't even recognize it after so long.
>That's fine, I tell myself. She might just be having a hard day. It might not blow up in your face tonight.
>You chose to be okay with this, Anon.
>You chose to be okay with her.
>You can't get angry now.

>Walking into the kitchen confirms my suspicions. Nothing's prepared. What's worse, though, is that nothing's been done period. The sink's overflowing with dishes. It has been for a few days now.
>I rub my head in my hands for a moment.
>She needs you to be responsible right now, suck it up.
>Multitasking is a go. We have some frozen chicken in the freezer, I can probably scratch together some rice to serve with it. Not great, not terrible.
>Turning on the oven to preheat, I turn around and begin to deal with the mound of crusty silverware I've foolishly allowed to collect.
>I'm not sure why I got my hopes up.
>She's only been getting worse.

>Don't think like that.

>I'm not pleased to immediately be doing chores after coming off a shift, but sometimes it can't be helped.
>As I take to task the grime upon a plate with a steel-wool brush, I can hear footsteps beginning to trail from our bedroom.
>What's more though, I can hear Wendy's breathing.
>And I already know from that tic alone that it's going to be another one of those nights.
>THOSE nights.

cont

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Anonymous Thu 20 Jun 2024 02:59:26 No.66750313 Report

Quoted By: >>66750574

>>66750092
Easy anon, we ain't done yet

>>66750052
>When Wendy's going okay, she's quiet as can be.
>Graceful even.
>But when she's off her meds, the cadence of her breathing is noticeably labored.
>Heavy, erratic huffs through her nose.
>The same erratic breathing I'm hearing right now.

>I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
>Navigate this as best you can, Anon.
>It's not her fault she's like this.
>Just make it to bedtime.

>I focus on continuing to watch the dishes. Wendy's getting closer the entire time.
>I can vaguely see her in the periphery of my vision.
>Her hair's a mess, tangled and unbrushed. She's wearing one of my shirts, two sizes too big on her and dangling loosely around her body, as well as a pair of shorts.
>Her eyes are wide and angry, and they're staring right at me.
>After some seconds, she's the one to break the silence.
>"Not gonna tell me hello?"
>She already sounds agitated.
>"Hey, honey," I reply to her gently, making eye contact with her. "How was your day today?"
>She just grunts in response. I look back down at the plate in my hands.
>Silence stretches between us for a moment. I clean the dishes. Wendy paces on her feet, eyeing me like a dog staring at a mealbone.
>"You didn't respond to any of my texts today. Again," she abruptly hisses, punctuating the last word with a little upwards-jerk of her snout.
>We're already doing this, huh.

cont
sorry for the delay, pc crashed for some reason mid-typing

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Anonymous Thu 20 Jun 2024 03:10:48 No.66750574 Report

Quoted By: >>66750824

>>66750313
>I clench the plate a little tight out of reflex. Afraid of what might happen to it if this conversation goes the way I think it's going to, I gently place it down into the sink.
>"You know I can't text you when I'm on shift." I turn to face her, wiping the soapy water from my hands across the front of my coveralls. "We've been over this before. I've already got a warning for getting caught talking to you while I was on the saws."
>"Yeah, okay," she nods slowly, before tilting her head. "So you can't text me at lunch, either? Can't do it when you get off work? When you get there in the morning? What's the rules on that, Anon?"
>"Wendy--"
>"I bet you have all the time in the world to text that Ptero-skank of yours."

>Me and Fang have barely spoken since graduation.
>She went off to try and pursue that band she was in, and I was focused on trying to structure something together for Wendy and I. Hit the ground running, so to speak.
>Last I heard, a buddy at work spotted her playing at some pizza joint down near Skin Row.
>I don't even have her number in my phone.
>But Wendy's convinced I'm talking to her on the side. She has been for some time now.

>"Honey, we share the same call history, you know I'm not talking to her."
>"Won't show me your texts though."
>"You don't need to see them."
>"If you don't have anything to hide, what's the big fucking deal, Anon?!"
>We've had this same argument more times than I can count.
>Suddenly, the oven chimes out; preheating's done. Saved by the bell.
>Running my fingers through my hair, I sigh towards her.
>"We can talk about this later, honey. Just, help me fix us some dinner real quick, alright?"
>She grunts again, glancing away. She idly picks at her clawtips, fiddling with them.
>"Could you hand me the tray of--"
>I left the chicken in the freezer, fuck.
>With a groan, I look back to Wendy. She's closer to it than I am.
>"Could you hand me that bag of Tarboson's tenders in the fridge?"
>"We don't have any."

cont

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Anonymous Thu 20 Jun 2024 03:21:16 No.66750824 Report

Quoted By: >>66750958 >>66751090

>>66750574
>"...What? I know we do, I just went to the store on Sunday."
>"I got rid of them."
>Please tell me you're joking.
>Moving across the kitchen, I sling open the freezer door on top of the refrigerator.
>Completely fucking empty.
>Even the icecubes are gone.
>I gawk for a moment, confused by what I'm seeing, before I instinctively open the fridge door below it.
>Everything's gone.
>There isn't even a bottle of water.

>I've went to a few of the counseling sessions Wendy's gone to. She makes an effort to attend when we can manage to keep her healthy.
>I remember at one of them, her worker taught her some techniques to manage flashes of stress and anger.
>Inhale. Count to four. Exhale. Count to four. Repeat.
>I'm practicing it right now to not lash out at the fact half a paycheck's worth of groceries is gone.
>Inhale, count to four.
>My hand's tapping erratically along the edge of the fridge door.
>Exhale, count to four.
>Wendy's silent.

>"...Where's our food at, Wendy?"
>"I already told you, I got rid of it. It's in the trash. It wasn't good."
>"Why wasn't it good, honey?"
>"I found a drug in some of it earlier in the week. Someone's trying to poison me--poison us, Anon."
>She shifts closer. Her hands clench onto my bicep and squeeze it reassuringly. She peers up at me with wide, hopeful eyes.
>"You understand, right? You know I did it for us, right?"

>She saw a pill in her food.
>One of her pills.
>I had slipped it into a sandwich I had made her back on Monday. She hasn't taken her meds in awhile.
>It was wrong to try and trick her into taking it.
>But I'm at my wits end. And as it's turned out, it only came to bite me in the ass.

>I'm going to snap at her unless I get away.
>I need air.

cont

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Anonymous Thu 20 Jun 2024 03:33:37 No.66751090 Report

Quoted By: >>66751230 >>66751277 >>66751360

>>66750824
>I take a deep breath, before I, gently as I can, jerk my arm free of my wife's grasp and move past her. On reflex I slam the fridge door shut behind me as I go.
>Wendy's in shocked silence until she sees me grab the car keys off the countertop.
>It's like a gunshot.
>She explodes.
>"Where the FUCK ARE YOU GOING?!"
>She's storming after me as I make my way to the front door.
>"I just want--I need a bit of room, Wendy. I need to clear my head."
>"Don't you fucking dare, Anon."
>"Baby, I gotta get us something to eat anyways. I'll be back, just--"
>"NO! STOP FUCKING MOVING!"

>Despite myself, I pause at her shout.
>She immediately takes initiative, darting in front of me and blocking the path to the doorway. Her eyes are like pinpricks, and her face is a snarl, teeth bared.
>She's smaller than me, but Dinos are naturally strong.
>And when she shoves her fists into my chest, it makes me stagger back at a step.
>"I've waited for you -all, fucking, DAY!- And the first thing you do when you come home is LEAVE?!"
>Practice the breathing, Anon.
>I raise a hand in a placating gesture.
>"...We don't do that to each other, Wendy. Calm down."
>"Calm down? You want me to calm down? Should I be fucking CALM, when you're going to go DOWN on that FEATHERED SLUT, ANON?!"
>Fang's probably not a fucking nutcase like you.
>"...What the fuck did you just say?"

>I mumbled.
>Her eyes are wide.
>My eyes are wide.
>Her claws are trembling.
>"--Wendy, I didn't mean that."
>She's looking up at me like she doesn't recognize me.
>Then her expression shifts to one of absolute fucking rage.

>"YOU SKINNIE -FUCKER-!"

cont
end soon

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Anonymous Thu 20 Jun 2024 03:45:57 No.66751360 Report

Quoted By:

>>66751090
>Compys can move like hell when they want to.
>And Wendy -really- wants to right now.
>Her right arm's a flash, whirling up at my face as she lunges at me, fingers extended.

>There isn't pain.
>It's pressure. An uncomfortable, jerking sensation, flesh and cartilage being tugged in a rapid, forceful and unnatural manner.
>Followed by the puffiness of traumasite swelling.
>The force behind the swipe causes me to stagger over into the wall to my right. I brace my right hand against it.
>My left hand raises, pressing against my cheek.
>I can feel warmth gumming up my palm and awkwardly trailing down my forearm in little runnels.
>I look over at Wendy.
>She's gone still as a statue, eyes bulging. Her left claw is squeezing her right claw, as though trying to keep it from moving on its own.
>There's little rubies drip-drying from her clawtips onto the floorboards.
>"...Anon, I'm sorry."
>Her voice is timid and quiet. Shaky.
>"Anon I'm sorry," she repeats, faster this time. She reaches for me. I move away from her.
>"Anon I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please--"
>I don't try to stop her from following me as I move further back into the house, stumbling towards the bathroom.
>I can hear her trail behind me for a little bit; it sounds like she stopped near the end of the living room.
>"Anon, I didn't mean it."

>It took me a bit to get the first aid kit to open up.
>My hands are slick with my own blood. It's stained up the clear-red plastic case of the IFAK with ugly smears.
>It looks like a cougar got a hold of my left cheek.
>Disinfecting it is taking all of my strength; it hurts like a motherfucker.
>I should go to the hospital.
>But I can't.
>They'll put her somewhere if they find out she had a violent episode.
>I can hear her calling out for me back down the hall, asking me to come back.

>I'm trying to love Wendy.
>Sometimes, she remembers she loves me.
>She's just difficult.

end
hope u anons enjoyed