AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Ember,” Roger chastises, peering at my face. “No, we’re too old to play dress-up.”
“But it’s almost Halloween. We should pick our costumes for the block party?—”
“I said no,” he snaps furiously, his eyes sparkling with darkness. There’s hatred in his gaze that makes me shrink back. He was a kind man when I married him, or so I’d thought. At nineteen, I didn’t really have a clue, but women don’t have much of a choice besides finding a man to marry. Not many can get a job, at least not a good one, and we certainly aren’t allowed to attend college like Roger did.
We are homemakers, wives, and child bearers.
Despite my vehement protests growing up, I married. I succumbed to the American dream to save my mother. She was sick, and Father had died five years before in the war so we didn’t have any money for medicine. Roger came along like a white knight when I’d been scrambling for some sort of plan to purchase the medication. Roger came from money, and he was going to college to be a doctor. He was also older and handsome and everything a proper woman should look for in a husband. Mother loved him, thought he was perfect, and so she pushed me to accept his first offer to go steady. He took me under his wing and showed me kindness, and we fell into the illusion of love.
When he proposed a few months later, he promised to take care of me and my mother forever. I had no choice but to say yes, so it seemed an easy decision.
It has been six years since we married. Mother passed six months ago, and it’s like with her death, the bindings Roger placed on himself went with her. All shreds of humanity disappeared in an instant, and the kindness and softness I had been used to during the day vanished completely. Now, there is a cruel hatred that I’d only seen in very concerning moments between the sheets. I hate those times. I hate that he no longer keeps those emotions in the bedroom.
Roger is anything but a kind man, and I learned that far too late. I’m trapped with nowhere else to go, and he knows it. I have no money of my own, no family to fall back on or protect me, and no job or hopes of getting one. In the tiny town of Lost Springs, I’m nobody, just the strange wife who always seems a little out of sorts. Roger is their amazing, perfect doctor, and they worship the ground he walks on.
I play the game he wants. I learned the rules fast, but it seems like I struck a nerve over the Halloween costumes because he suddenly grabs my throat and slams me into the wallpaper behind me. My head cracks audibly against the wall, making me whimper, but I swallow the pain, used to it by now as I hang in his grip, struggling to breathe.
I don’t even fight back anymore, and I hate that the most.
I did at first, but it only made things worse. If anything, me fighting back seemed to excite him, and at five foot one to his six foot five, I don’t stand a chance. He knows that, and he takes pleasure in reminding me anytime I push back.
His boring brown eyes gleam as he glares at me, his perfectly coiffed blond hair pushed back. I used to think his hair was perfect and neat. Now, I see it for the illusion it is. He’s still in his suit since he came home early from his practice without warning. “I let this foolishness go while your mother was here, but no more. You are not a child, Ember, and it’s time to grow up. You will be submissive and beautiful. No more stupid makeup or costumes. No more games.” He rips the one I was making, the leotard I sewed for days, away from my chest, and I close my eyes to keep the tears from falling.
I know what will come next. It always comes after.
“If you want to dress like a little whore, then I’ll treat you like one.”
I barely have time to gasp as he spins me and slams my face into the wall. My eye immediately echoes with pain, and I know it will bruise later. Black spots dance across my vision, my awareness fading, and I wonder idly if he will finally kill me. I almost yearn for it, wanting to join Mother and Father again, to be free of him and this house.
When I come back from the darkness to hear his grunts in my ear and feel the pain in my hips and groin, I know I wasn’t so lucky. He thrusts harder, brutally ripping my insides because I’m dry. I cry out in pain, and he presses my face harder against the wall to silence me. He likes it when he hurts me.
He enjoys that he makes me bleed, and as tears slide down my cheeks, I force myself to go somewhere else and remember happier days.
When he’s done, he throws me to the floor, and I can’t even catch myself, my head slamming against the hardwood yet again. “Clean yourself up. You’re a mess. The Carlsons are coming in an hour, and I expect dinner to be on the table for all of us, something they’ll be delighted by. The wife likes pie.”
I lift my head to see him zipping his pants before storming away, not even bothering to help me up. Swallowing hard, I reach down between my thighs, my fingers slipping in the blood there. I lift my fingers to the light and eye the red drops coating them before I bring them to my lips and suck them clean.
A perfectly placed scarf hangs around my neck, bangs cover the cut on my head, and the right amount of powder on my face makes sure the growing bruise isn’t even apparent. My groin aches all night, but I smile through dinner, laughing at Roger’s jokes and kissing him, playing the perfect couple so the Carlsons don’t notice.
All the while, I’m dying inside.
More than once, I debate picking up the knife from the roasted chicken and plunging it into his chest. I’d be committed, but it would be worth it to watch his shock fade to horror as he bleeds out. I don’t, of course. How uncouth. Instead, I listen to them blabber on about shit I don’t care about, like frustrating patients, sports, and which mower is best for the perfect lawn.
When Mrs. Carlson asks when we will have children, I see the true Roger shine through. I cover my stomach protectively while forcing a smile in hopes I don’t cry despite the echoes of pain.
No one knew, but I’d been pregnant not too long ago—until Roger became angry at the thought of having to share me with a child. Despite that being the dream, and despite it ruining his reputation, he strung me up and beat my stomach until I had a miscarriage. I bled for weeks and screamed in agony, but every night, Roger came home and still expected me to tend to my marital duties. I went numb the moment he decided to brutalize me completely—the final step.
He laughs at Mrs. Carlson’s question, but I can tell it angers him, and I know I will be the one who pays for it later.
After dinner, he walks them to the door. I don’t even realize I’m still covering my stomach until he turns to find me watching from the base of the stairs as he bids them goodbye. When they reach their car, his mask drops.
His expression becomes cold and angry as he slams the door behind him. “What do you say?”
“I’m sorry, Roger,” I reply automatically.
“For what?” he demands.
I hesitate. If I say the wrong thing, it won’t end well. I must hesitate too long because the next thing I know, I’m hitting the floor from a backhand I didn’t even see coming.
