(Not requested)
⚠️ TW
~~~
You woke up late to the sound of dishes clattering in the kitchen, being washed or put away.
The extra sleep might have been nice if you had woken up to an empty house. But instead, there was an instant tightness in your chest. You should have dealt with the dishes. Taylor should have stayed in bed sleeping. It would have been nice to enjoy the extra sleep, but the dishes sounded like a warning of what was to come. It might come in a few minutes, in a few hours, or even in a few days, but you knew, all the same, it was only a matter of time before you would pay for this indiscretion.
You stayed frozen still under the covers while you listened to the distant clang of pots and pans. It felt like you were a child again, and there was a monster under the bed. You imagined that if you remained perfectly unmoving, it wouldn't notice your presence, and it wouldn't come for you. It's the behavior of a prey animal. Stay still. Don't incite them to chase.
When you heard the screen door slam, probably Taylor going outside to get the paper, you took the opportunity to jump out of bed. You quickly made yourself presentable; a quick shower, a bit of makeup, some clean clothes, but you took care not to take too long. As you were getting ready, you tidied up the bathroom, anything to soften the blow that you knew was coming sooner or later.
Finally, knowing you couldn't sequester yourself any longer, you opened the bedroom door and ventured out into the rest of the house. Taylor was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and reading the morning paper. She looked up when she heard you approaching and smiled over the top of the paper.
"Sleep well?" she asked.
"Yeah, I guess I was really tired, didn't realize I slept that long."
"You must have needed it," she said, bringing the paper back up and effectively ending the conversation.
It was for the best, as your stomach was already roiling. She had noticed. She had noticed how long you'd been in bed, and her cleaning up the dishes was your punishment. You had better thank her for that quickly, to lessen the blow that would be coming later.
"Thanks, Taylor, for cleaning up the kitchen. It looks great."
She just nodded and continued reading the paper. To anyone watching this scene from the outside, it looked perfectly normal. A woman had slept for an extra hour on a Saturday morning, and her partner had taken it upon herself to do a bit of housework while she slept. Perfectly normal. Except she had asked her to wash the pots the previous night, and she had said she'd do it in the morning. She had been too tired. And now she would pay for that.
Taylor always had to ask you to do things a few times, and that made her angry. Not at first, but over time. It almost seemed like she wanted to be angry. She relished in lashing out at you. She'd keep track of your mistakes until they reached critical mass, never letting you know the score, not until it was too late.
You went about your day, working through a list of chores. At the grocery store, outside of the house, you were almost able to forget what had tied your stomach in knots a few hours prior. You picked out everything you would need to cook dinner during the coming week. Cooking was nice, it occupied some time, distracted you for a while, and you liked to think you were at least halfway decent at it.
When you got home, you pulled the car into the garage and grabbed as many bags as you could, hoping to keep the trips back to the car to a minimum. Just as you were nudging the car door shut with your hip, you heard glass shatter inside the house. Your heart dropped. It would be nice to stay in the garage forever. Or maybe just for a while, at least until the house was safe again. But you knew that Taylor had heard the garage door open, and she would be expecting you inside any second now.
