greta laughed in his face. “ what — was i supposed to sit around and wait for you to put me above your benders and fucking anything with two legs ?? you’re pathetic, lloyd. maybe we’re not a fairytale marriage. but i married him because he’s game enough to try. ” his shouting couldn’t make her flinch. “ at least i’m not going to die alone because i couldn’t man up and stop fucking about with childish, meaningless bullshit. ” with him closer, she caught clearer sight of his dilated pupils. her fingers clamped around his jaw to still his face. “ you are. you’re fucking high. ” greta let go of his face in disgust and stepped away. “ wash his blood off your hands before anyone sees you. ” she dealt another look of contempt, then retreated back around the corner to her husband.
A brutal rasp of knuckles against brick wall sounded. Every bullshit lie she spouted made his blood boil to the another level. “It’s a fucking masquerade ball, of course I’m FUCKING HIGH.” Lloyd stormed after Greta a moment later. He could take all the drugs to numb his brain, but he’d be aware enough to know that he couldn’t just grab her and kiss her like he used to when she’d walk away from arguments. Not when it was likely his hand would be pressing down on a relatively new bruise. “Well, fuck me, Greta, if I’d known that you were the type to give yourself up for the first bastard that claims to want a marriage with you? I wouldn’t have fucking bothered with your miserable fucking ass in the first place.” Lloyd’s voice lowered into a throaty intonation. She seemed to have become the epitome of everything they’d despised during their time apart. He didn’t want to believe any of it. “Out of you and me, no matter how much I fuck myself up, this life you’re living makes you more pathetic than I’ll ever be. You’re a solid three-for-one: trophy, wank sock, punching bag. Congratulations.”
