Ended in Bed

Without making any arrangements for the operation, Avery stayed in the office for the whole afternoon. Unknowingly, it had already started getting dark outside the window.

She suddenly remembered that Blake asked her to accompany him to the banquet. She hurriedly stood up, and her vision suddenly turned black. After staggering for a few steps, she managed to stabilize herself.

She ignored breakfast. She didn't even eat lunch. Her head felt heavy, her stomach throbbed, and so did her heart. She took out her phone and called Blake.

The phone rang many times before answering. A familiar, low, magnetic voice came from the other end. "What is it?" he asked.

"I, I might not be able to accompany you to the banquet."

There was a brief silence, then the sound of the air currents filled both ends of the microphone. “And the reason?"

"I'm not feeling well."

He was silent again. Then, he gave an emotionless "Okay" and hung up the phone.

A beeping sound came from the phone. Avery looked at it in a daze and laughed bitterly. She had long since gotten used to his indifference. Initially, she would cry in grievance, but three years later, today, she didn't even have the strength to cry. ‘If I died, he would probably react a little.’

After getting off work, she slowly took off her white coat, changed into a halter dress, and sat on a chair in a daze. Somehow, she was very much against returning to that ice-cold home. Then, Dina rushed in quickly and forcefully pulled her along to the bar.

When Avery returned home drunk, it was already midnight. She found her key and entered the room without turning on the lights. She walked along the wall towards the bedroom. For three years, a thousand and ninety-five days and nights, she had touched every corner of the house alone.

"You're back?" A gloomy male voice suddenly came from the darkness, carrying a unique coldness. Without any warning, it indeed had a horrifying effect, causing people's hair to stand on end.

Avery’s body trembled, and she subconsciously stopped moving.

Under the dim moonlight from the window, she saw a man in a dark grey suit, blending perfectly with the darkness on the linen sofa in the living room. His tall and big body was slumped on the sofa, and his movements were slow as he lit up a cigarette.

In the moment of light, Avery saw that three buttons had been torn off the shirt on his chest, and his well-built chest was faintly discernible.

She leaned her body against the ice-cold wall. She was very tired and really didn't have any spare effort to deal with him.

The atmosphere immediately fell into a deathly silence. She did not speak, and he accompanied her in silence. It was like a silent contest between them.

In the end, she was still not as calm as he was, and was the first to speak, her tone carrying a sense of ridicule, "Mister Anderson, today is not eight."

"This is my home," he replied, implying that whenever he returned, her door must remain open to him.

The corners of her lips curled up as she sneered.

Why would he want to come and go as she pleases? This place was more like a hotel than a home to him, and there was also her, her bed maid, who was free of charge.

"Then go ahead, I'm tired." After she finished speaking, she turned around and walked towards the bedroom.

She reached out to turn the handle of the door. Just as the door was opened a crack, a force suddenly came from behind, bringing along a cold chill. She was pinned to the door by a heavyweight.

He was vaguely angry. When he received her call, he was in a meeting and she said she wasn't feeling well. He left a room full of executives behind, pushed aside a social event and two important meetings, and hurried home. He had waited for her in the empty house for hours, and she had come back drunk and confident.

"Let go, you …" Before she could finish her words, her entire voice was sealed in his mouth. He kissed deeply, no, not so much a kiss as a tyrannical punishment, with a surge of anger. He was a lofty existence that no one could defy.

The strong smell of alcohol on her body angered him even more. The strength of his grip on her wrist was very strong, and she wanted nothing more than to crush her slender wrist into pieces.

Avery was in so much pain that she was struggling stubbornly in his chest, but he was still the same as before, wantonly licking her lips.

She shut her eyes tightly, steeled her heart, and bit the tip of his tongue tightly. The sweet and fishy blood on his lips dispersed outwards, and she heard him groan as he forcefully pushed her away.

Avery laughed coldly, her laughter trembling in the tranquil space. She licked the blood on her lips, the stench of blood mixed with a hint of bitterness.

And he seemed to be really pissed off at her, his hand gripping her chin. He lowered his head and looked at her deeply. In the darkness of the night, his pitch-black pupils could not see the bottom as they surged with waves.

"Still into biting, huh?" His suppressed voice was filled with amusement as his cold gaze lingered on her heaving chest.

Avery started to regret wearing the dress today.

She gasped for breath in pain, her forehead was covered with beads of perspiration, as tears fell from her eyes, "Blake, you bastard …" Her voice was shaky and her fingertips dug into his shoulder.

He smiled sinisterly. "You call me a bastard, so I should be worthy of that title."

As he spoke, he became even more serious.

The wind rushed in through the wide-open window and lifted the curtains, giving off a ghostly air in the darkness. The wind was cold, yet his heavy body carried a boiling hot temperature.

She suffered painfully. From beginning to end, she had always been resisting. Her cries of despair were like a dull knife slicing through her heart.

In this sort of situation, it was simply impossible for her to enjoy herself to the fullest.

Blake let her go angrily. He got off his bed and slammed the door.

Avery crawled up while trembling, and used a blanket to wrap her body to lean against the headboard. She closed her eyes tightly, and tears rolled down from the corner of her eyes.

In her memory, every quarrel ended in bed without exception. However, this would not solve any of the substantive problems. It would only cause the pain to repeat itself over and over again.