Time was going by ridiculously slow. I could feel his eyes burning holes into me as I picked at my food, not really having an appetite.

But then again, when have I ever had an appetite when eating with him?

"Book."

I didn't look up, but responded.

"Yes?" I could hear him sigh angrily and push back his chair, probably coming towards me.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." He didn't yell, but his firm grip on the back of my neck was plenty forceful.

I was in no mood for this tonight. Not at the moment. I was feeling jumpy and drained, and I was shaking all over. I needed a fix, right now.

But I promised I would stay clean for today, for my sister's wedding.

I gripped my fork and swiftly stabbed it into his thigh, as he screamed in pain.

"Grip my neck like that again and you'll lose your hand. Move."

I pushed him against the wall, making a nearby lamp shake. He gripped onto my wrist, holding his thigh.

"What time... are you coming home tonight?" he managed to get out. "Late. So don't wait up for me."

"Wasn't planning on it."

Walking out of the apartment, I fixed my jacket and noticed I still had the fork in my hand.

He deserved it, stupid bastard.