Pinned ~ This story is completely fiction and was written to meet the meme collaboration topic of co-dependency.
Codependency is a behavioural condition in a relationship where one person enables another person’s addiction, poor mental health, immaturity, irresponsibility, or under-achievement. Wikipedia.
Content Warning ~ Violence – domestic abuse.
Bill had been ‘arping on about Angela, his missus, for over two hours now. When he sent me a text saying he needed to talk ‘bout Angela. I straight up thought he’d found out I’d fucked her after the football last week.
We’d all gone round to Bill’s drum, Me, Jeff, Squeeky and Tony. It’d been a real session before the game and fueled with watching the match on his new flat screen we were all steaming by at the time Angela got back from her shopping trip into town. She was her usual self, puttin’ out, all tits and eye lashes, making comments about having so many sexy men in one place.
By the time the post-match analysis was over, and the rest of the guys had left, Bill was sparko on the sofa snoring, and Angela had joined us with a large VAT in her hand. It was skank, I know that, but I fucked her with Bill in the next chair. She was so up for it and in my pissed state I finally just got angry with her for being such a slag. I wanted to smack her in the face for doing this to my mate, she disgusted me. In the end I just spunked over her clothes and made as much mess as I could. I didn’t go for the sex or her, I mean what a bitch, what-a-fuckin-slaggy-bitch.
Bill and I were well into our sixth pint when the tears started. I didn’t really mind listening to him go on about Angela, after all, the chat didn’t include me! He kept saying what a lucky bloke I was to ‘ave a wife like mine. He’s right of course, Gen is one top bird. Great tits, nice arse but as soppy as a bag of frogs. I keep sayin’ to her,
“Gen, you’re a smart bird but you really need stand up for yourself.”
She may be good lookin’ but she can be really irritating sometimes. I come home from the pub sometimes after a few jars and she’s all,
“Hi, did you have nice time? Who was there, did they mention how so-and-so was?”
I mean, what is she a fucking copper with all the questions? As if I go to the pub and talk about some other blokes wife? As it so ‘appens, that exactly what I’m doing, getting my ears chewed by Bill about his bitch of wife. In the end I bought two more pints when last orders were called, killed them and walked home.
I could imagine Gen sitting on the sofa, telly on with a mug of tea. I would get in and she would pretend that me being home late without calling was okay, and that she was pleased to see me. Why the fuck would she want to see ME? I’m drunk and she will be all kissy-kissy about it. She can be so annoying. Why can’t she stand up for herself, and get on those knickers I like and wait for me to come home and suck my cock. She is so FUCKING proper, and aghhhh fucking, fucking… lovely; and I’m shit. A drunk shit. Maybe she will have dressed up cos’ she knows I like that. Lovely bird my Gen…
As I walk through the door, I catch myself from falling over and grab the door frame. ‘Shhhhhhhh’ I laugh inside my head. There is no blue glow of the TV shining from the livin’ room and as I throw myself down next to her like a rag doll, I see she’s been reading.
“Gen. I’m sorry I’m late. I juss had ta go to The Swan. Bill needed a chat. His wife left. The bitch. You’d never leave me would ya, Gen?”
She smiles at me in a way that makes me feel stupid, so I force my face into her neck to irritate her.
“You understand me don’t you, love?”
She gets up and goes into the kitchen and I focus on the carpet trying to stop my head spinning. I’m warming up from the walk home, and my eyes start to droop with drink and tiredness. I don’t how long I have been hanging there midway between sleep and coma, when she calls me to the kitchen. What the fuck does she want now? She points to a plate with a sandwich on it. A sandwich? Did I ask for a sandwich, did I, did I? No, Mark I did not ask for a sandwich I say inside my head. Without thinking I chuck the plate in the sink and china and food hit the taps. Still Gen says nothing, absolutely nothing and goes to walk away. I don’t want her to leave so reach out and grab her hair, I pull it to get a reaction, and there’s nothing, nothing from her.
“Where’s me fuckin dinna gal?”
She stammers a pathetic excuse and looks helpless, which just pisses me off. I tell her I’m hungry and give her a shove, half turning, looking for the sandwich that was on the table a minute ago. I sit, slumped in the chair and eat the food like an animal on purpose to piss her off. She’s sitting on the floor for some reason looking at me. I chew slower and slower, until darkness embraces me.
I ‘ave no idea what time it is or how long I have been asleep. I’m cold and just want to be in bed curled up with Gen. I know I’ve been a bit of dick, but drink does that sometimes. It’s harmless, I mean Gen never complains, and to be honest it’s not like I’m down the pub every night. She’s a good girl really, and if I give her some old chat when I get into bed she always lets me make it up to her…