Saving You Losing Me

Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

CLARA

A s soon as I put the girls to bed, I know something is up. Michael is waiting at the foot of the staircase and he doesn’t look happy.

“You went to the studio today.”

I maintain my composure.

“I go there a lot of days. You know that.”

His eyes blaze and I can smell the whiskey on his breath as he hisses, “Don’t test me with your sarcasm.”

I notice one of the maids walk around the corner and at the sound of Michael’s voice, she scurries back the way she came.

Fuck. Even she knows this isn’t looking good.

He swings me around and pins me against the wall, his hands on either side of me acting like a cage.

His eyes flash with fury as he hisses, “Who did you talk to?”

I hate how my legs tremble and fear lights my heart, but I’ve practised my craft well over the years and says lightly, “Some guy was there. I paid the fees and left.”

“Some guy.” His lips curve into a grim snarl.

“What did he say?”

“Thank you.”

I should have known better and suffer the price of my stupidity as he slaps me hard across the face, my head falling to one side as my cheek stings.

He doesn’t release me and says through gritted teeth. “I’ve had enough of your shit, Clara. You have given me nothing but attitude since we walked down that aisle and I’m sick of it.”

I bite my lip because nothing I say now will calm the fury inside him and he snarls, “I gave you everything. This house, limitless credit and two daughters. You gave me nothing in return.”

He leans forward and I’m afraid at the madness reflecting back at me. I’ve known for a long time that Michael is mad. He is deranged and hides it behind a respectful smile and his sharp suits. However, when we are alone, the madness manifests into a bad night for me and coupled with the whiskey in his veins and the stranger in town, Michael is fast losing his shit.

“Nothing, Clara.” His words bounce off my frozen heart and I only pray something interrupts his tirade. This isn’t the first time I’ve been in this position and it won’t be the last and I’ve learned to remain tight-lipped and hope it passes quickly.

My heart sinks as he pushes my skirt around my waist and, with one hand, rips off my panties, the sound of tearing fabric not an unusual one.

He fumbles with his zipper, and then with one hand over my mouth, he enters me with a force that hurts like hell.

As he pushes in hard, he grunts, “You will give me a son if I have to fuck you senseless. A son you bitch. You can’t even manage that. I’m a laughingstock.”

I swallow the pain and the sob that threatens to unravel me as he takes another piece of my soul as he vents his frustration in the cruellest of ways.

My back hits the wall, and I struggle to breathe as his hand presses against my windpipe. He is a wild animal claiming his mate, and it has never been any different. I denied him. I would never agree to sleep with him. I made that perfectly clear from the beginning. I would be his wife but never his lover, so he took it, anyway.

Michael raped me on repeat for our entire engagement and throughout our marriage. He has no consideration for me and I bear the scars. Both mentally and physically.

When I fell pregnant with Sophia, he was ecstatic. He treated me like a princess and declared his love for me to anyone who would listen. They thought I was blessed with such a caring, loving husband. I was considered with envy and the luckiest woman alive.

The day I came home from the hospital with our baby daughter, he told me in no uncertain terms that I had let him down. I was a disgrace and couldn’t even get that right and the beating that night took months to recover from.

Two years later, Maria followed. The constant abuse he inflicted on my body meant I didn’t fall pregnant easily. Once again, I could do no wrong. We were having a baby. It was sure to be a boy this time, and I had nine months reprieve from the sex and the beatings. Instead, I was wrapped in love and affection.

Then Maria was born, and it happened again. It appeared the only time I was safe from him was when I was pregnant.

To deny him a son meant the greatest sacrifice on my part because I was determined I would never bring another child into this tainted, depraved life. I couldn’t run the risk of bearing a male heir who would be groomed to be exactly the man his father wanted him to be. First Charles, then Michael and over my dead body any son of mine.

So, I saw the doctor and secured birth control. The night Michael found them, I thought would be my last. I was so badly beaten, I didn’t leave the house for weeks. When I could, I saw the doctor and secured a stash of morning-after pills and hid them under the carpet in my closet. One taken for every time he raped me.

My body is fucked and so is my mind, so as he powers into me, I blank the trauma from my mind. He will soon leave me to clean up and keep his distance for weeks. It’s a familiar pattern that can’t go on much longer because I am hanging onto life by my determination to keep my daughters safe.

That is why I took a chance on the bodyguard and as Michael vents his frustration out on me, I hang onto the hope this will all change and we will be free.

As expected, Michael pulls out when he finishes with a disgusted snarl.

“Clean yourself up, you filthy whore. Women like you deserve to be fucked against the wall like a common slut.”

He grips my face hard and I blink against the tears it causes as he snarls, “It’s no wonder I fuck whores. They know how to please a man.”

He releases me and storms down the corridor and the last thing I hear him say is into his phone.

“I’m coming over. Make sure you’re naked.”

The door slams behind him and I gasp as the pain hits me from all angles, grateful that Michael has a mistress who lives in an apartment he set up for her. He spends most of his nights there, which suits me just fine.

Occasionally, he brings her home and insists on fucking her while I lie in the same bed. He is a cruel man who only falls further down the dark hole of insanity the longer time goes by.

I catch a sob as I make my way gingerly upstairs, intent on a deep bath to calm my wounds. The pills are beckoning me and not for the first time, I consider taking them all. My life is over, anyway. I’m a dead woman walking. I go through the motions and do what I can to make life magical for my girls, but inside I am longing for the past. What might have been and my only consolation is that Atom is alive and thriving and living his dream.

That is all I wanted. All I will ever want because I have never stopped loving him and I never will.