He snapped. "Your skin's itching for a beating again?"
The moment he said this, he quickly shut his mouth.
He realized his mistake, remembering that he'd just gotten out of the police station not even a day ago.
"Your skin's itching for a beating again." At first, this was a playful tease he used on me.
But it evolved into a threat and now it signaled that he was about to get violent. I had fought back before.
But in front of a strong, muscular man, especially one who didn't love me, a woman was simply too powerless.
His phone rang, I thought he would avoid me to take the call. But this time, he openly answered it right in front of me.
A worried voice came from the other end, "Gerald, are you okay?" The voice was soft, warm and sweet.
Now, Gerald couldn't even be bothered to pretend in front of me. He responded with a gentle tone I hadn't heard in a long time, "Don't worry, I'm fine."
He still cared to save a shred of my dignity, ending the call after a brief conversation.
Then he waved his phone at me and said, "It's just a friend."