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If she ever confronted him about his manner he emphatically denied any type of misgiving and always turned the situation around to one where he blamed her for being far too sensitive. He would claim he was just interested in what she was doing, and that he would worry if she was even moments late. It didn’t matter how much she pleaded with him, imploring him to not be so controlling or smothering, he saw no wrong in his actions continuing on with his ways, oblivious to her needs and feelings. She heard him downstairs warbling a familiar tune as he moved around the kitchen, filling the kettle and setting the cups on the tray for tea. She didn't need to look at her watch, it was 3.55pm, it never changed. If she tried to suggest a different time he would get anxious and they would have “words”. He insisted Tea Time always had to be at 4, allowing him 3 hours after lunch and 3 hours before supper; any time fluctuations would basically interrupt his schedule. So she always gave in and had tea at 4. The realisation that she went along with 4 pm tea every single day infuriated her again and she found herself grinding her teeth and punching her leg. But this time she decided she would not have tea, she would sit there in her bedroom in her comfy armchair and read. Yes this time she would be defiant, no tea at 4pm for her, let him drink it on his own. She would decline the offer sweetly of course, but she would be strong, she was not going to back down, even if she would like a cup of tea now. She would rather wait until he’d finished his and then go and make her own. She smiled and stood up triumphantly, like a General giving an order to his armies to fight for their country. She felt as if she was about to fight for her life. Facing the mirror a flicker of light ignited in her eyes. Her head was held high and fists were clenched in determination, she had made a decision. Yes she’d done the same before, but she’d never had the courage to carry out her plan of defiant action. But this time it was different. He was no longer going to order her around, smother her or sulk like a child that left her consumed with guilt. No this time she was going to do it her way. As the feeling of determination engulfed her body, she swung herself around the room, punching at pillows that took on his form. Throwing them around the room, she imagined she was tossing away the baggage she’d carried around for far too many years. She laughed out loud as she spun like a dancer, transfixed by the pulsating music in her ears that picked up her feet and gave rhythm to her lifeless body. As she spun around towards the door it opened, she stopped dead in her tracks. The energy started to evaporate from her body: her pounding heart and breathlessness ceased. Her lips became pursed, her shoulders rolled forward and the line of pain began to crawl around her face, searching for the last remaining skin it could mark. “It’s tea time dear, 4pm on the dot. I missed you,” he said as he took her by the hand giving it a gentle pat, leading her downstairs, jabbering on as if nothing had happened. A familiar voice groaned from the depths of her stomach repeating over and over again, “Dear Lord, why do I stay, why do I stay?”
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