It's been two days. Two days since I last saw my boyfriend, Cameron. Two days of recovery and tension.

The bruises on my cheek and shoulder are yellowing now and they don’t sting as much to the touch. It's still an effort to avoid looking at them when I brush my teeth or take a shower. But I manage.

Cameron does this sometimes, disappears for a day to drink with friends. Usually after one of his outbursts.

It wasn't like this in the beginning. He was sweet and kind, a little jealous but it was cute how much he seemed to care about me. But after about a year into the relationship, little moments of jealousy turned into possessive outbursts, warm affection was slowly replaced with moments of cold indifference or, rarely, physical blows.

The sound of a key in the lock sets my heart racing. My small moment of relaxation shattered.

I scramble to the hallway, positioning myself by the stairs just as the door opens. Coy and grateful, just how he likes. "Welcome home."

Cameron doesn’t enter straight away. He pauses in the doorway, just staring at me.

I fidget, fighting the urge to flinch when he suddenly bounds closer, hands coming up to clasp my arms. The smell of vodka is faint, nowhere near as strong as usual.

There is something strange in the way he’s looking at me, eyes roving over my face like he's trying to memorise my expression. His eyes are wide and confused, almost as if this is the first time he’s seeing me. He isn't saying anything. Just staring.

Just how drunk could he be?

The silence starts to weigh heavy on me and the air seems to thicken, like a weighted blanket cocooning my limbs. Desperate for a positive reactive, any reaction, I speak. "I've missed you."

The tension suddenly lifts as a smile cracks his face. I fight the urge to flinch when he suddenly leans down and places a kiss to my forehead.

"To hear you say that makes me so," a kiss to my cheek, "so," a kiss to the other cheek, "happy," finally, a kiss to the tip of my nose.

He moves to the side and places a hand on the small of my back, with the other he gestures into the living room. His hand is warm. "Shall we?"

I don’t know what’s gotten into him, but I don’t want to give him any reason to have another outburst. So, I follow his lead.

*                          *                   *

This evening has been strange.

Cameron is too affectionate. Too calm. Almost like how he was in the beginning and yet not at all like he used to be.

Sometimes, he unnerves me with his choice of words. He keeps joking about how I look good enough to eat and he calls my cooking as delicious as me.

I spilt a coke on his knee, and he just laughed. He called me his clumsy cutie and went to the kitchen to wipe himself off. No twitching fingers or signs of anger. No pressure in his voice. No warning signs. It’s unnerving.

I’ll catch movement out of the corner of my eye, like he’s smiling. Something about his face is haunting. Eyes too wide and blacked out. Smile tearing his face apart, stretching from earlobe to earlobe. But when I turn my head to look, he looks normal, fixing me with a gentle, loving smile.

After washing the dishes together, he leads me in swaying around the kitchen to the tune of ‘You’ve got the Love’ trickling from the radio. His hands are warm. His touch is gentle.

It feels like the honeymoon phase all over again.

A part of me is celebrating this change. Finally, he seems to be the old Cameron, the one I fell in love with again. But a smaller (strangely louder) part of me is screaming that something is wrong, something bad is coming.

The questions pile up inside until, just before getting ready for bed, I can't stop myself from reaching out for Cameron's arm. My fingers barely brush his shirt sleeve before he pauses.

He turns to face me with a wide smile.

"Um, Cameron." I keep fidgeting with the edge of my top. It feels like there’s something buzzing in my chest. "Is everything okay?"

"Of course, luv." He gently brushes a strand of hair away from my face. A gentle loving smile crinkling the skin around his blue almost silvery eyes.

The realisation suddenly hits me. It's a sinking feeling, like a rock just dropped into my stomach. Like the floor’s crumbled and given way beneath me, and I’m standing on a thin ledge over the abyss.

Cameron's eyes are brown.