"Ugh, I feel like I got run over by a dump truck," Colin complains, as he comes down the stairs. I crack another egg in the pan, while scoffing at how whiny he is being at that moment.

"Ah, shut your mouth. My dad has multiple sclerosis, and he did all he could to make some money for our family. It's one hangover," I think to myself, as I wait for the eggs to cook. I try to tune out Colin's continued bitching, because it gets annoying considering how insignificant hangovers are compared to some pain that others have experienced. 

I hand him his plate of breakfast, without uttering a single word, and he takes it very willingly. I turn off the pan, and I drop it into the sink for washing.

"Ugh, I'm so glad that I have a late start today. I need some time to ride out this hangover. It's like having a cactus for a brain," he complains even more, as he continues to eat his breakfast.

"You probably do have a cactus for a brain. And it's hollow too," I think to myself, as I start to wash the other dishes in the sink. Eventually, Colin brings over his plate, and drops it into the sink as well.

"So, Nicole, quick question. Since you're a German speaker, can you understand Arabic, since the languages are so similar?" he asks. I resist the urge to facepalm with the pan that I'm washing.

"I was right. He does have a cactus for a brain,"  I think to myself, as I pour water on the pan.

"They're nothing alike. German is in the Germanic family of languages, and Arabic is in the Semitic family. Why do you think they're related?" I ask, and he shrugs.

"I don't know. They just sounded so alike. I have a Jordanian coworker in my office, and I heard him speaking Arabic. It sounds like the German Mark speaks." 

I roll my eyes. "Why couldn't my mom have married me to someone who at least has a positive IQ?"  I ask myself, and I continue to scrub the dishes in the sink.

********

"Well, I'm going to work. Don't try anything funny," he warns, in his suit and tie, and he heads out the door.

"No promises," I think to myself, and the second that he locks the door, I jump onto the couch, and grab the laptop. I log onto his account, and I go to Google Drive. Colin made the stupid mistake of writing his password in a notebook, because his memory is smaller than that of a peanut, so it was an easy find.

Once I log onto Google Drive, I log into my Google account, and I head to the 75 page document titled, "My little diary." For the past few years, I've been using writing as an excuse to let out all of my emotions that have been compacted into a little bottle. I've been writing about my experiences as a touted phoenix by my family and friends.

I've written about how I've, metaphorically, rebirthed from the ashes after being burnt down due to death caused by the plethora of factors fighting against me. I've written about the abuse from my mom, the troubles in school, and my unfortunate marriage. So far, I'm proud of what I've written, and one day, I hope to share it with the rest of the world.

For the next couple of hours, I just let whatever emotions I have bottled up inside of me flow out of me in the form of words, and onto the document itself. I feel like the rope that's acting as a restraint to hold me back is cut, and I'm free to write whatever I feel onto the document.

I spread my wings, and I fly through the world of imagination and let the air of words soar past my wings. The rocks of description, the rivers of flow, and the wildlife of imagery are included in my work. At this point, nothing can stop a flying phoenix like me, and no one shall ever get in my way of stopping me.

At a certain point, I'm wrung dry of ideas and words to craft. Alas, I have to take a rest and let my wings rest so I can fly another passionate journey again some other time. But for now, it's time to fold up my wings, and save them for another time. I make sure everything is saved, and then sign out of my Google account.

Once that's done, I delete my search history, including any traces of evidence that I signed into Google with my personal account. The last thing I need is for Colin to look at the sign in history and lose it with me. After I'm done, I close the computer, and continue to do any more house work that I haven't finished yet.

*********

"You look too cheerful. What's going on?" Colin asks, with a suspicious look on his face. I look at him weird, and I continue to eat my roast potatoes. I try not to throw my fork at his face, but I still have to remind myself that murder charges aren't a joke. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say, as I wipe my mouth and take a sip of water. I try to keep my face as solid as stone, so he doesn't try anything funny with me. Colin raises an eyebrow at me, and studies me in more depth than the last time. His sensor for bull crap is smelling something fishy, and I'm afraid that he'll sniff out my writing passion.

"Weird. You're never this happy," he comments, and he finishes up the dinner. He then walks over to the sink to put it in, and a weight is lifted off of my shoulders. I thought something bad was going to come out of that. Thankfully, nothing bad happened.

Not yet, at least.

When he comes back, I finish my dinner, so I go to the sink to put my dish in and wash all of the items in the sink. As I'm doing so, Colin snatches a fancy glass from inside the display cupboard. "Hey, can you get me the tequila from the bar?" he asks. My eyes widen at his request. Any drink that has some sort of alcoholic content that falls into Colin's hands is a recipe for disaster.

Gosh, I hope he changes his mind. I absolutely hate it when he drinks, and he never fails to go overboard and fall into a drunken rage 99% of the time. I gulp a little bit, and turn around. "Uh, you just had a hangover last night. Are you sure you want to do that?" I ask, and Colin's look morphs into a weirdly irritated one.

"Oh shut up. You're not my mom. I can do whatever I want in this house. You're supposed to cook, clean, and take care of the house, like a woman. Now, get me the damn tequila," he snarls at me. I roll my eyes, and I head over to the bar to get him his drink.

"Damn, I showed some concern. I didn't ask for a lecture. Be lucky I'm not putting rat poison in your tequila," I mutter to myself, as I snatch the tequila from the bar and I walk back to where he's waiting. I hand it to him, and he seizes the tequila from my hands and starts pouring himself a glass. I go back to washing the dishes. I do so, which is like the magnet that attracts the energy out of me.

****

"Finally, I'm done with all the chores," I think to myself.

Exhausted, I then go upstairs, and I change out of my clothes. When I walk outside, Colin is standing there. His eyes are bloodshot, and in his left hand, he's grasping a half empty bottle of liquor. The sense of misfortune is boiling inside of me. I can't imagine the things that he could possibly do to me right then and there.

"Is everything ok, Colin?" I ask gently. He walks up over to me and grabs my hair. He sharply yanks it backwards, as I bite my lip at the sudden intrusion of pain.

"Does it look like everything is ok?" he spits, while grasping my hair even harder. I start to quake under his tight grasp, and my breathing becomes irregular and erratic.

"Colin, what did I do?" I ask shakily. Colin smirks mischievously, but with a pinch of danger sprinkled in there as well.

"I saw how you hugged Mark yesterday. I saw how you asked about Asher the other day. And how Mark followed you into the kitchen. A little lovey-dovey, huh? I can imagine you and him smooching against the counter as the Shepherd's pie cools down enough for you to handle. Seems like you're interested in him more than me," he angrily growls. His voice is lowered to a steel-grinding undertone that only makes me more petrified with each word that he barks at me.

I shake my head. "That's not true, Colin," I assure, trying to sound convincing so that his temper doesn't explode like a grenade. The pungent scent of alcohol in his breath is stinging my nostrils, and causing my eyes to water. The fury in Colin's eyes intensifies by 100 times.

Warning: violence ahead

"DON'T YOU DARE LIE TO ME!" he bellows. His hand balls up into a fist and he strikes me across the face with it. I immediately fall backwards, holding my face in pain. He drops the half empty bottle of liquor, and the sound of shattering glass strikes my ears.

"I KNOW YOU'RE LYING TO ME, YOU UNGRATEFUL SLUT! I CAN SEE THROUGH YOUR ACT!" he screeches at me, and he charges at me. His fist clamps on my hair and drives me into the wall. My head makes contact with the wall, and intense pain immediately shoots through it like an arrow.

Colin walks over, and his fingers make its way to my neck. He grabs me by the neck and he thrusts me again to a nearby wall. I feel the broken glass wound my feet. My feet dig into the ground to slow the impact, but the liquor that was spilled causes me to slip. My head hits the cold ground, and a blinding wave of pain surges through my head. My eyelids squeeze shut, while tears stain the rims.

Colin then walks up to me, and he kicks me in the ribs five times. I feel like his feet have knives as toenails, and they're stabbing me with each kick that he does. I feel light headed, like I'm bleeding out from the metaphorical stabs. Colin then adds the finishing touch by spitting on me. The pain that is surging through me eventually takes away my consciousness.

Right before my consciousness fully slips away, one thought is painted across my mind. "I need to get out of here. Right now," is what comes across my mind before the pain causes me to fall asleep.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*rubs hands* A CLIFFHANGER ENDING! One of my favorite endings of all! Okay, this wasn't my favorite cliffhanger ending, because of the circumstances of the situation. So, there's that. Nicole's decided that she's going to get out of the situation. Do you think she's going to live up to that? Let me know in the comments.

Hey everyone! How are you all doing? So, I have news! Guess who decided to make an Inkitt? *crickets chirp* What, no guesses? *people in the background* Move along, we already know it's you.

So, anyways, yeah, I made an Inkitt. My goal is to publish The Badass Diaries (if you don't read INI, then TBD is a prequel/spin off) on there first, and then some of my other works once I've finished them. Some of you already know the context behind them. *smirks at a special someone*

My Inkitt username is SVTS (I know, very creative), so go follow me if you have an account!

Alright, I'll stop rambling. Hope you guys liked this chapter!

Please vote/comment/share/follow/message if you like my work! See you all next Saturday with a new chapter of Phoenix! Have a great week!

Love you guys,

Shree