Cherry Chocolate Chip 8, Pistachio 11: Skillet on the Stove
Title: Skillet on the Stove
Main Story: In the Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Cherry chocolate chip 8 (pain), pistacho 11 (an argument), malt (PFAH: Gina : The line between sanity and insanity just got thinner), cookie crumbs (of Gina's section of this).
Word Count: 1261
Rating: PG-13, for violence and cursing.
TRIGGER WARNING: Domestic abuse.
Summary: Gina's last argument with Vanessa.
Notes: Title from Jenny Owen Young's song F*ck Was I. References For Now.
Gina was waiting when Vanessa got back.
She was trembling. Her hands shook where they were clasped in her lap. She'd set her scene very carefully; the seat turned towards the door, the sober and careful clothing. She'd even had a glass of wine or two (or three) for courage. To steady her nerves.
Oh, God, she did not want to do this.
But she couldn't get it out of her head. Vanessa and that girl, dancing close, kissing, Vanessa drawing the girl out into the alley. Gina knew what Vanessa did to girls in alleys. She knew...
She squeezed her hands together, looked down at them and swallowed tears hard. Not yet. She could not cry yet.
There were footsteps outside, the door burst open, and Vanessa reeled into the room in a boozy cloud.
Gina sat up straighter and clenched her hands until they went white-knuckled. "Vanessa," she said. "We need to talk."
Vanessa wheeled around and squinted at her. "Oh," she said, dismissively. "What do you want?"
"Where were you?" Gina asked, straightening more. Her spine felt as if she'd strapped a ruler to it.
Vanessa giggled. The sound, once so charming, had a nasty tinge to it. "Don't tell me you're turning into a prude, Regina." She slurred Gina's name, drew it out mockingly.
Gina ignored it. She had to. "Where were you, Vanessa?" she repeated.
Vanessa flipped her hair back over her shoulder with one hand. "Oh, I was out," she said, casually, and giggled again. "Out, out, out. Having fun. You could've come with me, Gina. Should've. Would've had fun. Thought you liked having fun."
Not this kind of fun. "Alone?"
"Nooooo," Vanessa said. "No, no. Lots of people with me. Hot chicks." She smirked at Gina. "Why? Jealous?"
Gina's chest felt hot and tight, stuffed up with emotion. She would have thought that Vanessa would at least have the decency to lie. "No," she said, quietly. "Not anymore. I saw you with her, Vanessa."
Vanessa's forehead wrinkled as she tried to think. "Her? Who?"
"The girl last night," Gina said, and when Vanessa's forehead remained wrinkled, elaborated, "The blonde." She had to specify. Dear God in heaven, she had to specify.
"Oh!" Vanessa beamed. "Melinda. Melinda. Girl is fucking stacked. What about her?"
Gina inhaled through her nose. "I saw you with her," she repeated.
"So?" Vanessa rolled her eyes. "You turning into one of those screaming jealous bitches? 'Cause you don't have any room to talk, Regina." Again the drawling, mocking tone. Gina pressed her clenched hands into her belly to ease the pain there.
"I saw you with her," she said, with careful emphasis. "I saw what you did with her, Vanessa. I saw..." The pain clawed its way up her throat, and for a moment she could neither speak nor breathe. "It's over," she managed, at last. "We're done."
Vanessa stared at her for a long moment, an incredulous look on her face. "What?"
"I said," Gina said, "it's over." She seemed to be repeating herself an awful lot in this conversation. She'd actually been repeating herself a lot in this relationship. Whenever she said something Vanessa didn't want to hear, whenever she tried to state her own feelings. Patterns. Patterns she should have seen earlier.
But she'd been in love.
"You're breaking up with me?" Vanessa asked, sounding as if she couldn't believe her own ears. "Why the fuck would you do that?"
It was Gina's turn to stare incredulously. "You... how can you even ask me that?" she asked, rising from her chair, keeping her hands clasped at waist height. "You cheated on me, Vanessa! And I don't even think that this was the first time!"
Vanessa waved a hand dismissively. "But we had fun!" she said, wheedling. "We had so much fun, baby." She sidled closer, smiling, reaching out. "I know you like it when we have fun."
Gina backed away from that reaching hand and suggestive tone. "No," she said. "No. It's over. I can't... I won't be with someone who cheats on me."
"Oh, what the fuck ever," Vanessa snapped, and whirled away from her suddenly, heading for the refrigerator. She pulled a beer out, gave the cap a vicious twist and sent it spinning off onto the floor with a clatter, downed half of it and slammed it on the counter. "Like it's my fucking fault. You're the one who turned into a prude all of a sudden."
That hit Gina like a physical blow, a fist to her gut. "What?" she asked, in a near whisper.
"What the fuck am I supposed to do?" Vanessa asked, a snarl in her voice. "You never listen to me. You never put out anymore. You can't be fucking bothered to pay attention to me, so what am I supposed to do, huh, Gina?" She downed the other half of the beer and sneered. "I'm sick and fucking tired of pandering to you."
"I'm sorry?" Gina asked, still quietly. "Pandering to me?"
Vanessa tossed the empty beer bottle onto the counter (where, mercifully, it didn't break) and clasped her hands beneath her chin. "I don't want to go out, Vanessa," she said in a whiny falsetto that Gina figured out after a moment was supposed to be her. "I don't want to stay in, Vanessa. I don't want to have sex, Vanessa. Why don't we ever cuddle anymore, Vanessa?" She dropped her hands and rolled her eyes. "Would you stay with that? Honestly. Like I ever fucking cuddle."
Gina dropped her hands finally, let them hang limp and useless at her sides. "Then I guess there's nothing more to say," she said, and headed for the door.
"Don't you fucking walk away from me," Vanessa said.
Gina stopped-- her first mistake, or at least the first in this conversation-- and turned to face Vanessa, hugging her arms across her abdomen. "There's nothing more to talk about," she said, steadily. "And I'm leaving."
"Fuck you," Vanessa said, and came forward, much faster than Gina had expected. "You can't fucking break up with me."
"Funny," Gina snapped, letting a little of her own confusion and anger and unhappiness escape into her voice. "Here I thought I just did."
Vanessa sneered again. "It's not over until I say it's over."
"Too bad," Gina said, and turned to the door again. "It's over."
Vanessa grabbed her arm, hauled her back around and slapped her, once, with all her strength.
The next thing Gina knew, she was in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet, her hand to her cheek. She'd locked the door from the inside, apparently, because the handle was rattling but not turning, and she could hear Vanessa, outside, begging.
"I'm sorry," she was saying. "I'm sorry, Gina, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry. I don't know what came over me. It's my fault. This is all my fault. All of it. Won't you come out? Come out and let's talk. I'm sorry, I just love you so much. I can't lose you. Please come out, Gina!"
Gina let it all wash over her, rubbing her stinging cheek. She wasn't coming out, not while Vanessa was still there. She'd leave later, when Vanessa finally went away. She didn't know how long that would take-- it was Vanessa's apartment, after all-- but Vanessa really didn't spend much time here and sooner or later she was bound to go, if only to use the bathroom somewhere. Gina would come out then, collect her things, and go.
And she would never, never come back.
Main Story: In the Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Cherry chocolate chip 8 (pain), pistacho 11 (an argument), malt (PFAH: Gina : The line between sanity and insanity just got thinner), cookie crumbs (of Gina's section of this).
Word Count: 1261
Rating: PG-13, for violence and cursing.
TRIGGER WARNING: Domestic abuse.
Summary: Gina's last argument with Vanessa.
Notes: Title from Jenny Owen Young's song F*ck Was I. References For Now.
Gina was waiting when Vanessa got back.
She was trembling. Her hands shook where they were clasped in her lap. She'd set her scene very carefully; the seat turned towards the door, the sober and careful clothing. She'd even had a glass of wine or two (or three) for courage. To steady her nerves.
Oh, God, she did not want to do this.
But she couldn't get it out of her head. Vanessa and that girl, dancing close, kissing, Vanessa drawing the girl out into the alley. Gina knew what Vanessa did to girls in alleys. She knew...
She squeezed her hands together, looked down at them and swallowed tears hard. Not yet. She could not cry yet.
There were footsteps outside, the door burst open, and Vanessa reeled into the room in a boozy cloud.
Gina sat up straighter and clenched her hands until they went white-knuckled. "Vanessa," she said. "We need to talk."
Vanessa wheeled around and squinted at her. "Oh," she said, dismissively. "What do you want?"
"Where were you?" Gina asked, straightening more. Her spine felt as if she'd strapped a ruler to it.
Vanessa giggled. The sound, once so charming, had a nasty tinge to it. "Don't tell me you're turning into a prude, Regina." She slurred Gina's name, drew it out mockingly.
Gina ignored it. She had to. "Where were you, Vanessa?" she repeated.
Vanessa flipped her hair back over her shoulder with one hand. "Oh, I was out," she said, casually, and giggled again. "Out, out, out. Having fun. You could've come with me, Gina. Should've. Would've had fun. Thought you liked having fun."
Not this kind of fun. "Alone?"
"Nooooo," Vanessa said. "No, no. Lots of people with me. Hot chicks." She smirked at Gina. "Why? Jealous?"
Gina's chest felt hot and tight, stuffed up with emotion. She would have thought that Vanessa would at least have the decency to lie. "No," she said, quietly. "Not anymore. I saw you with her, Vanessa."
Vanessa's forehead wrinkled as she tried to think. "Her? Who?"
"The girl last night," Gina said, and when Vanessa's forehead remained wrinkled, elaborated, "The blonde." She had to specify. Dear God in heaven, she had to specify.
"Oh!" Vanessa beamed. "Melinda. Melinda. Girl is fucking stacked. What about her?"
Gina inhaled through her nose. "I saw you with her," she repeated.
"So?" Vanessa rolled her eyes. "You turning into one of those screaming jealous bitches? 'Cause you don't have any room to talk, Regina." Again the drawling, mocking tone. Gina pressed her clenched hands into her belly to ease the pain there.
"I saw you with her," she said, with careful emphasis. "I saw what you did with her, Vanessa. I saw..." The pain clawed its way up her throat, and for a moment she could neither speak nor breathe. "It's over," she managed, at last. "We're done."
Vanessa stared at her for a long moment, an incredulous look on her face. "What?"
"I said," Gina said, "it's over." She seemed to be repeating herself an awful lot in this conversation. She'd actually been repeating herself a lot in this relationship. Whenever she said something Vanessa didn't want to hear, whenever she tried to state her own feelings. Patterns. Patterns she should have seen earlier.
But she'd been in love.
"You're breaking up with me?" Vanessa asked, sounding as if she couldn't believe her own ears. "Why the fuck would you do that?"
It was Gina's turn to stare incredulously. "You... how can you even ask me that?" she asked, rising from her chair, keeping her hands clasped at waist height. "You cheated on me, Vanessa! And I don't even think that this was the first time!"
Vanessa waved a hand dismissively. "But we had fun!" she said, wheedling. "We had so much fun, baby." She sidled closer, smiling, reaching out. "I know you like it when we have fun."
Gina backed away from that reaching hand and suggestive tone. "No," she said. "No. It's over. I can't... I won't be with someone who cheats on me."
"Oh, what the fuck ever," Vanessa snapped, and whirled away from her suddenly, heading for the refrigerator. She pulled a beer out, gave the cap a vicious twist and sent it spinning off onto the floor with a clatter, downed half of it and slammed it on the counter. "Like it's my fucking fault. You're the one who turned into a prude all of a sudden."
That hit Gina like a physical blow, a fist to her gut. "What?" she asked, in a near whisper.
"What the fuck am I supposed to do?" Vanessa asked, a snarl in her voice. "You never listen to me. You never put out anymore. You can't be fucking bothered to pay attention to me, so what am I supposed to do, huh, Gina?" She downed the other half of the beer and sneered. "I'm sick and fucking tired of pandering to you."
"I'm sorry?" Gina asked, still quietly. "Pandering to me?"
Vanessa tossed the empty beer bottle onto the counter (where, mercifully, it didn't break) and clasped her hands beneath her chin. "I don't want to go out, Vanessa," she said in a whiny falsetto that Gina figured out after a moment was supposed to be her. "I don't want to stay in, Vanessa. I don't want to have sex, Vanessa. Why don't we ever cuddle anymore, Vanessa?" She dropped her hands and rolled her eyes. "Would you stay with that? Honestly. Like I ever fucking cuddle."
Gina dropped her hands finally, let them hang limp and useless at her sides. "Then I guess there's nothing more to say," she said, and headed for the door.
"Don't you fucking walk away from me," Vanessa said.
Gina stopped-- her first mistake, or at least the first in this conversation-- and turned to face Vanessa, hugging her arms across her abdomen. "There's nothing more to talk about," she said, steadily. "And I'm leaving."
"Fuck you," Vanessa said, and came forward, much faster than Gina had expected. "You can't fucking break up with me."
"Funny," Gina snapped, letting a little of her own confusion and anger and unhappiness escape into her voice. "Here I thought I just did."
Vanessa sneered again. "It's not over until I say it's over."
"Too bad," Gina said, and turned to the door again. "It's over."
Vanessa grabbed her arm, hauled her back around and slapped her, once, with all her strength.
The next thing Gina knew, she was in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet, her hand to her cheek. She'd locked the door from the inside, apparently, because the handle was rattling but not turning, and she could hear Vanessa, outside, begging.
"I'm sorry," she was saying. "I'm sorry, Gina, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry. I don't know what came over me. It's my fault. This is all my fault. All of it. Won't you come out? Come out and let's talk. I'm sorry, I just love you so much. I can't lose you. Please come out, Gina!"
Gina let it all wash over her, rubbing her stinging cheek. She wasn't coming out, not while Vanessa was still there. She'd leave later, when Vanessa finally went away. She didn't know how long that would take-- it was Vanessa's apartment, after all-- but Vanessa really didn't spend much time here and sooner or later she was bound to go, if only to use the bathroom somewhere. Gina would come out then, collect her things, and go.
And she would never, never come back.