His fists tightened as he moved towards her.
He didn’t want to do this. He never did.
Life was hard. All he wanted to do was sit down relax and take a breather. But she wouldn’t let him would she? She was always on at him. Nag, nag fucking nag.
Constantly pushing his buttons. It’s like she did it on purpose. Pushing him to the edge until he exploded.
She didn’t understand him. Didn’t understand the pressure that he was under. Why couldn’t she just be understanding? Why couldn’t she see that he was hurting?
She cowered near the wall. Tears streaming down her face. She was shaking.
He hated doing this, he didn’t want to. It wasn’t him. It was all her. She made him see red. If she didn’t go on at him so much, then he wouldn’t. He would stop. He wouldn’t have too.
His knuckles stung. The skin at the corner of his hand had ripped as it made contact with bone.
His breathing calmed and he sat down.
“You know I love you,” he spoke again, his tone softer now.