Chapter 56

He nods like I am a puppy getting a command to heal, and this is a simple request.

My eyes are probably as wide as saucers as that inner rage sparks back up. “I told you to stop doing that. I can dress myself—I manage daily with quite a level of success, and as you check me out when you think I am not looking, it’s obviously a skill. Secondly, I assume the underwear is for your benefit, and I wasn’t aware I was now one of your fuck buddies whenever you feel like it. Possessions, I assumed, had some say over when, where and how if I ever let you touch me again. And thirdly, oh yes, I have a third… Stop telling me how to wear my hair; it grows from my fucking head. Therefore it’s mine, and I know how best to wear it.” That would be the hormonal rage button pressed and put into play. And his response is to look amused entirely as though I am having a mere tantrum over something mundane and not his overbearing ever-present control issues.

Arghhhhhh!

“Do I have to remin