Promptly Penned is a monthly feature wherein we get a great line or piece of dialogue to work with. Sometimes, a brilliant idea will arise.
“Wow. Can we pretend, for one second, that you’re not a complete douchebag?” Fiona rolled her eyes so hard there was a danger of them getting stuck in the looking-at-stars position. She never did well when she had to deal with Will, and he never made it easy.
“Fi”–she hated it when he called her that–“we need to get through the boxes in the storage unit so I can end the contract. There’s no sense in paying for it, now that we both have room for the contents in our apartments.”
His condescending, placting tone irritated her bone-deep. “Convenient that you needed to clear the unit after seeing me out with someone else,” she mumbled.
“Oh, dear Fi.” Tsk. “You really think I’m so hung up on you that I’m trying to insinuate myself in your life now that it seems you’ve got someone new to spread your legs for?” He patted her on the shoulder.
Chills crept up her back and raised goosebumps beneath her clothing. Get it done, get out of here. For my sanity. She thought about calling Robbie–he’d offered to come with her, but she’d declined–so she would have someone else at the deserted storage facility with her. Besides the twatwaffle I spent five years of my life with.
Sarah and Margot hadn’t been happy she’d be alone with Will, either. While they never said so in as many words, they got that look like someone had stunk up the place. Robbie had been a little more vocal, though.
He’d said, “Fi, you’re fucking crazy if you think that asshat won’t try to crawl back into your head. You know it. Don’t deny it.”
But Fiona had blown them off. She couldn’t really call them now, ask them to drive the twenty minutes to the facility, just because she realized they were right, could she?
The pocket of her hoodie vibrated. Fi glared at Will and moved farther into the small garage, taking in the boxes that had been relegated to the facility. There was family memorabilia–artifacts from the lives of her grandparents, great-grandparents, that she didn’t trust to her money-grubbing cousins. If I let them take these treasures, they’ll be on eBay before I can blink, she recalled thinking.
She pulled her phone out and snapped a picture of the nearly-full storage unit. This is going to take longer than I though. There’s a lot of my stuff here. And while she’d missed some of the things, she really hadn’t missed most of it.
When she opened her text messaging app to send the image to her friends, she had a text from Wyatt.
Hope it’s going well. I’m still willing to come help.
Hell, what should she do? She did need some assistance–otherwise, she’d be back the following weekend and have to deal with Will yet again. There was no way she’d be able to get all of the boxes in her car, and there was no way Will would give her the key for the storage unit.
Will had control issues. As in, he needed complete control of every situation.
And Fiona had let him have it.
He thought he could walk all over her–that’s she’d let him dictate her time and how she spend it.
She sent Wyatt a text.
I guess I have more stuff here than I thought. Could use a hand.
And then she sent the same text to Sarah, Margot, and Robby.
Fuck Will and his in-charge ways.
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