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Why do you even have one of those?

“Get out of the bathroom.” It’s 8:30, this is bullshit. “Please, get out of the bathroom.” I swear to God, if we’re late again I’m going to kill him. “Please get the fuck out of the bathroom!”
“Jesus, fuck off fer a minute whydontcha?” I hate him, I hate him so much. I want him out of my house, I want him out of my house and back into his.
“We’re gonna be late again, I can’t be late again. Do you understand me? I. Can’t. Be. Late.” He hears me, he just doesn’t care.
“I hear you, I just don’t care.” Son of a bitch.
“Fuck you! I need to get to work!” I’m pounding my head against the wall.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have burned my house down.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be such a cock.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t get out of the bathroom?” Fuck him, goddammit, fuck him.
“Fuck you.” It’s quiet for a few moments. “Are you done yet?”
“Are you?”
I wait silently, pulling my hair out with my clenched fists. Then the door cracks open and shuts abruptly. A maxi pad with ‘Fuck off!’ written on it now sits in front of me.
Fuck him.

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