She knows she has hurt him, and not in the hotdeliciousfabulous way. One minute he is a happy eager puppy, bouncing beside her, all smiles and affectionate enthusiasm. The next he is kicked, bruised, cowering and skulking away in pain.
She hates this, when she hurts him.
“I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry…”
She wants to bring him to her and make it better, she wants to protect him from her, to growl and spit at this bitch who has made him feel this way.
He has already closed down, he is gone, there is no talking to him now, he will pretend it is okay, he will say there is no problem as his clouded eyes bring the shutters down to keep her out.
She formulates the words. She wants him to understand. She wants him to be healed. She pictures his heart, she pictures the way he stands inside the door, his body and chest open, his beating heart exposed to her in trust, she pictures how he waits for her, and she wonders if he will shut it away from her, that raw open heart, to protect himself from her and she mourns its loss already.