Marianne wanted to hit him. How could he just react like this? What did he want from her? Didn’t he want to do this for real? To with her like a real man would be with a woman. Flinching at his raise voice, she narrowed her eyes, “do you not care about me? Or your body? Or the consequences? You can’t be like this forever.”
“You do, I’m going to do it. I don’t care if you don’t want to live here, I’ll pay your rent at your place and for your car. You can live like you do, just stop this!” She tried to reason, knowing if she didn’t she was going to dissolve in anger, and he’d stop loving her entirely. She wasn’t just mad, she was malicious.
“Be like what, H? Say it. Tell me I can’t buy you. Just say it. You wouldn’t of been with me if I wasn’t who I am.”
“I’m not a kid. I can do anything I want. No one else is trying to stop me! Don’t you get that? You’re the only one who’s trying!” But he is, really, beginning to sound rather childish. He can’t help it, not entirely – his childlike sense of anger seemed to have been orphaned along with him. It wavers, shows when it pleases; and frankly, he has no control over it.
Henley finds himself gritting his teeth, shaking his head. “You can fuck yourself.”
“You know what this is about,” he retorts, his voice sounding like a strenuous effort, “you know why we’re together. If I even gave a shit and a half about who you are, I wouldn’t be here.”
