“I’m sick of this Angie!” he yelled and stomped out of the house, trying to slam the front door. I caught it, my arm hurting like hell upon the impact.
“Please! Wait!” I screamed after him, tears pouring down my face. I ran after him and grabbed his arm, spinning him around.
“No!” he shouted, hatred and anger written clearly on his face, “I trusted you! But every time I turn my back on you, you betray me!”
“It isn’t how it looks!”
Suddenly he came out of the house, drunk, as usual, “Whassamadder baby?”
“Oh yeah, it ain’t at all how it looks,” my love said sarcastically.
“No, please, don’t leave!”
He ignored me and got into his pickup, slamming the metal door, “I hope you burn in hell, Angie.”
He came over and put his arm around me, “Seeya loosa. Shesmy baby.”
“Get off me, pervert!” I yelled
“ooh, shpicy, Ilikeda shpicy baby.”
He grabbed ahold of me so I couldn’t run and kissed me. Lance, in his pickup, just shook his head at me.
And the truck pulled away.