#bottledteardrcps

ELIZA: waits while the phone rings, frowning. "i hope she picks up."

when one comes home to an apartment of broken appliances and clothes strewn across the floor so much that it’s difficult to even walk through, their first thought is typically, something horrible must have happened. benjamin’s first thought, however, was isla. he expected a typical welcome home from his wife with a half smile and a kiss on the cheek, and this was clearly the opposite. there was a feeling deep in his stomach that something had caused her to create the wreck, and truthfully, she had plenty of reasons to do so. he would run out of fingers if he were to attempt counting what he had done wrong in their relationship, and yet he continued. he had never expected her to miraculously grow a backbone and walk out on him, he never thought she would stand up for herself against the person who helped her out of such a hard time in her life, but here he was, stunned and staring at the mess in front of him. dropping his bags and brushing off a chair, he watched one of his favorite shirts fall to a dirty floor before unlocking his phone and searching for her name. of course, isla’s contact was buried beneath work calls and his other friends. they rarely spoke when he was away ( or when he was in town, for that matter ) . regardless, he tapped the call icon and sucked in his breath, clenching a fist and telling himself not to yell at the first sound of her voice. even still, the line stopped ringing and he immediately launched into frustration, “do you care to explain what the ever living fuck happened to our apartment, isla?”

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