Discord and disharmony - Teaser Tuesday

Still working through revisions on 'Christopher's Medal'. I've taken out a few words and I've added some new scenes. After a day of wallowing in self-pity on Saturday and playing Mahjong Tiles (I never knew I had that on my lap top), I kicked myself in the arse and resumed work. I'm slowly getting there. I've got to go back to the beginning and read through and see what still needs to be fixed, glued on, stripped away and made pretty.

This is a new scene. It ain't pretty and there are some bad words.

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Grace leaned against the wall and held on to Christopher’s calf. “Come on, Chris, push.”

“Fuck off.”

She gritted her teeth and looked at him, lying on his back on the floor. His tee-shirt was blotched with perspiration and his eyes full of fury. Physio was a daily nightmare, wrestling with the twin monsters of Christopher’s anger and pain. “It isn’t going to get better if you don’t work at it.”

“I’m not one of your fucking horses, Grace.”

“More’s the pity. Just push will you?”

“You’re a hard bitch, do you know that?”

“You’re a soft bastard. A soft, self-pitying bastard and you’ll never be able to walk properly if you won’t work at it.”

Some days were better than others when it came to the physio. Sometimes, Christopher worked hard and in silence, his jaw set against the pain and it hurt Grace to see him fighting it. Other days were like a battle and it took everything she had not to lose her temper when he lashed out at her. This was one of them.

“I’ve had enough.” Christopher tried to pull his foot away.

Grace tightened her grip. “No you haven’t. Come on, Chris. Don’t give up.” She was tired, she wanted her afternoon nap, not this constant bloody battle.

“Will you just let go. Just fuck off.”

She bit her lip and stared past him, to the soft sunlight beyond the window. This wasn’t a day for fighting. “Fine.” She let go. “I’ve had enough. You can fucking deal with it on your own from now on.”

She had to be away from there. Grace knew if she stayed it would just get worse. It would end in arguments and long, dark silences. “I’m done. Sort yourself out and let me know when you’ve the bollocks to pull yourself together. I’m your fiancé not your bloody whipping boy.” She swept from the room and slammed the door.

Grace stood in the kitchen for a moment, shaking. The house was suddenly too small, too full of anger and it didn’t feel like her place any more. Christopher thumped about in the other room swearing and banging his fist against the wall.

“Sod this.” She shoved her feet into her shoes and stepped out into the early afternoon silence.