Page 1 of Sorry

PROLOGUE

SAM

Idon’t think I can take it anymore. I can’t. Either he will go too far and kill me or I will end it myself. This is not a life, this… is a prison sentence.

CHAPTER 1

SAM

Kyle had done it again. Kept me up half the night with one of his tirades, accusing me of flirting with the guy at a checkout; in the grocery store that we went to earlier that day. We were picking up ingredients for a romantic dinner I was going to prepare for us. I really wanted to make him happy, so I could avoid one of his moods. But here I was again, on the floor of our bathroom at 3am, spitting blood from a loose tooth.

When we came home he was already vibrating. I felt it. I’m a pro at reading even a miniscule change in his behavior. I had to learn it as a means of self-preservation and now it's second nature. The second I sensed the change in him, I tried to be cheery and pretend I was excited to cook for us. I wasn’t excited. If anything I wanted nothing more but to hide.

But he stewed quietly, taking a whole bottle of wine— that we were supposed to drink together, during the dinner— and drank the lot in twenty minutes, while I put groceries away. He didn't stop there. He finished what was left over in his whiskey decanter, he was drunk at this stage but still standing steady.

“Sit on the sofa Sam. We are going to have a little chat about you and your side piece, from the corner store.” He said quietly, but with an edge you couldn’t ignore.

I knew what that meant. It meant we would not be eating dinner, it meant I would be accused of something I didn't do, and it meant I would also pay for it in bruises… well if I'm lucky… only in bruises. I walked over to the sofa quickly and sat down, keeping my head down.

“Tell me Sam…” He said, almost hissing my name. Looming. Standing tall in front of me. “How long have you been bending over for that low life? Jim, was it? Was that what it said on his name tag?”

It was Jerry, but I wouldn't dare correct him, I would have yet another broken rib, if I did because it would solidify in his mind that he was right. Even though Jerry is a lovely guy, probably in his late twenties. He wasn't even gay. He is married to Chrissy who works in the ‘Pen & Page’ book store that I go to once a week, to pick a book that would help me escape this hell; even if it's only into a fictional world.

“I promise Ky, I would never cheat on you. I never have.” I mumbled quietly, not looking up at him. He likes complete submission, total and utter control. If I did look up, it would enrage him. We have been through this song and dance, so many times over the last five or so years. He huffed and started pacing in front of me. I kept quiet and tried to make myself as small as I could get. I was terrified.

He stopped a few steps in front of me, and said in a low, authoritative voice, that always made me cower, “Kneel.”

Terror overtook my body, and tears silently fell as I froze for just a second. I didn’t move fast enough for him, so he struck me closed fisted, full force in the jaw. I fell at the foot of the couch, feeling instantly dizzy, black spots appearing behind my closed eyelids. I curled up on my right side, tucking my legs in, and trying my hardest to protect my head with my arms, while silently crying. I was frozen in fear but also resigned to my fate. I had a flashing thought in my mind, wishing he would hit me hard enough to just end it all.

Kyle stepped closer standing right in front of me, and then I heard it. His zipper being pulled down, dread overtook me because he has done this before. He has forced himself on me, when he was drunk in the past. He hurt me. He took from me without consent, taking pieces of me I will never get back. This time I was lucky and all I heard was his hand moving over his cock, jerking right above my head.

After a few minutes, I feel his cum spilling onto the side of my head and arm, partially covering my face, as he grunted and gasped. “There. Go to Jim now, show him who you really are, nobody. See if he will fuck you covered in my cum. See if he will want my leftovers.” he slurs.

“I am sorry.” I whispered. Even though I had nothing to be sorry for. I know that, but apologizing became a reflex.

He left and went to our bedroom, I could hear him stumbling a bit, now alcohol had some more time to take effect. I heard him undress and fall onto the bed, with a grunt. I stayed there, in the same fetal position, trembling, staying quiet and trying not to make any noise hoping he would fall asleep fast.

Wait, just wait a little longer, don’t make any noise. I told myself inside my head because I wouldn't dare open my mouth.

After what felt like an eternity, but it was probably only twenty minutes or so, I heard him snore. Getting up slowly, the pain in my head increased with the movement. I slowly walked through the living room and down the hall, to the guest bathroom. Closing the door behind me and turning the lock quietly, I slid down onto the cold tiles beside the toilet and began to sob. Occasionally spitting out the blood that pooled in my mouth, from the split lip and the tooth he almost knocked out.

He hadn't hit my face since that first time six years ago. He wouldn't want anyone to see it and question it. I've had cracked ribs, massive bruises on my back and legs, from him kicking or stomping on me. I've even had bite marks everywhere, but only where clothes could hide them. I have a burn scar from a cigarette, somewhere on my shoulder. But with a split lip and a massive bruise, I had to call in sick for a few days, until the swelling went down. I could cover it with makeup or wear a mask, with the excuse I wasn’t feeling hundred percent and didn't want to risk passing it on. I felt numb…

I need to leave. I need to leave. I need to leave. I need to leave.

CHAPTER 2

ALEX

Icouldn’t leave her. I knew I should, but I was fucked up. As a thirty-year old, grown man. I was logical enough to know that a normal person would not stay married to a woman that has been cheating on him, for the past five-six years. I mean I get it… but I didn't know how to be alone.

I was put up for adoption right after I was born, apparently my birth mother was way too young when she had me, and couldn’t take care of me. I was never in one foster home for longer than a year. None of them were bad or mean to me, but I never felt like I truly belonged, like I was wanted. Realistically, I know there was never enough time to establish relationships with these foster families. But tell that to the little kid who was being moved around so often, but not knowing why.

Not good enough to keep. Not lovable enough.

So here I was now, sitting on the sofa watching my wife, and high-school sweetheart get ready to go ‘out with the girls for the weekend’. Actually, she was really going to meet up with her boss Paul that she has been fucking for the last four and a half years. Before Paul, she had few flings with random guys. I always knew, I smelled them on her, I've seen the love bites. I turned a blind eye to it because who else would want to be with me? Who else would want me? Who else would I be if I am not Tess’s husband? I latched on to her in fear; she was the only one that truly wanted me around. I didn't know how to let go. It terrified me.

We got married right out of high school, we moved into a little one story house in the outskirts of Lantry that her parents gifted us as a wedding gift. It was really Tess’s late grandparents' old home, nobody lived in but it was amazing to move in with her. I thought, ‘Finally! I have a permanent family!’ I thought, we could add to it if we wanted to, maybe have children or even just pets. But even if it was just us, it was enough, enough to make me feel like I finally belonged. I was so happy at the idea of it, delusional maybe. I renovated the whole place myself, gutted all the walls and redone the wiring.