I grabbed his shirt and began pushing and pulling at him. “I wish I was bigger than you. I’d beat the shit out of you!” I screamed.

He steered me into the house, out of earshot of the neighbours. I kept screaming at him. “When did you stop loving me? Did you ever really love me? Why didn’t you tell me?” I went on and on, out of control. I ran to the bathroom and locked myself in.

Ted stood outside the bathroom door. “Please come out here and talk to me,” he was saying.

“Get out of here and leave me alone. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.” The berserk sound of my own voice scared me. I was starting to feel detached from myself. I wondered what the people upstairs must be thinking.

“I’m going to get Angie,” Ted shouted over my shouting. “Will that make you feel better?”

“Oh yes,” I said, “that will make everything fine. You get Angie and then things will be swell again.”

Within a few minutes, Ted was back with Angie, who had a towel wrapped around her wet hair. He had crashed in on her while she was in the shower and scared the hell out of her.

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