Chapter 10
Two Weeks Later
T he days are passing fast now with the influx of darkness from winter approaching, but something about this new normal has become comfortable.
Being with Jacob has become comfortable, I realize. He’s no longer that angry man who could switch in an instant, and he’s never raised a hand against me. I almost truly believe he has genuine intentions, if misguided, about my faith.
I’ve even begun following the Scripture he reads me, genuinely looking into the meanings. He wrote all of it in his journal for me, but he also speaks to me, revealing his truths.
Love thy neighbor, and what better way to do that than to bring them into the flock? To worship their body after their sacrifice if they deny God?
Give unto the Lord. We all should provide the Lord our God a blood offering, as it was decreed, “Indeed, under the law almost everything is purified with blood, and without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins.” Hebrews 9:22.
Follow the law. “Everyone who makes a practice of sinning also practices lawlessness; sin is lawlessness.” 1 John 3:4. Simply put, all law of the Bible must be adhered to. Because to disregard the law is to live in sin. And to live in sin is to deserve Judgement.
Be sanctified in your blood covenant to God. “Therefore, if anyone cleanses himself from what is dishonorable, he will be a vessel for honorable use, set apart as holy, useful to the master of the house, ready for every good work.” 2 Timothy 2:21. We are holy because we have rid ourselves of our sinful ways.
It’s… starting to make sense. And after spending two weeks here, I’m honestly beginning to make a home of this place.
I like not having to dance and work the poles every day for cash, a dance that never seems to end. I like just cooking and cleaning; he finally removed the manacle and just locks the doors from outside when he leaves.
Jacob says I’m doing the duties of a true wife, a Biblical wife, and I love it. I love the ease of just being at home.
But what I’m not ready for is a baby.
And that’s what he wants next. To get me pregnant.
“No,” I insist, putting down the dishes I’m scrubbing one evening. “I’m not doing that.”
Jacob’s eyes narrow from where he sits on the other side of the kitchen island. “No? You think you can say no to me? Amy, you belong to me.”
His words make me uneasy, but they also warm me in some sick way.
I… am his. I’ve become his. In this rhythm we’ve made living together, I’ve taken on wifely duties. And now he wants me to take on the ultimate one: bearing children for him.
I can’t make myself do it. I’ve never wanted kids.
“I won’t do this,” I press. “I can’t.” My voice cracks. I don’t want to bring children into a world like this, with so much death and sickness. Not to mention the father they’d have.
He shoves up from the bar stool he sits on. “You can, and you will. Or else I’ll make you,” he seethes, and I cower back. I hate seeing this side of him, the old him from before we had sex.
I thought he’d changed, but he’s still the same man, the same killer.
Stalking around the island, he snatches my wrist and begins dragging me to the stairs. When we reach my bedroom, he throws me on the bed.
“Wait! Jacob, please. Don’t do this. Not like this,” I plead.
He’s going to fuck me. And I don’t want it this time. I don’t want any of this. Not if he’s going to force it, force himself, on me.
I scramble to get away, but he grabs me by the hair, yanking me back down. Pain erupts through my scalp like liquid fire, and I cry out.
No. Not like this. Anything but this.
He pulls out his signature blade, the one he never puts down from its sheath, and begins shearing through my clothes. One by one, the threads and ripped shards of clothing fall away, revealing my naked body.
He’s seen it all, but I still want to hide myself from him, from his wrath.
When he forces himself inside me, there’s nothing sensual or loving about this. This isn’t him ‘showing me his love’, it’s violating me.
As he thrusts over and over, a part of me checks out. I go numb, seeing nothing, feeling nothing.
And when it’s over, I just lay there full of cum I never wanted. He came inside me before, but this is different. This is him trying to force me into something I don’t want.
I don’t know if I can look at him the same as he gets up from the bed and rights his clothes.
“You will have this baby, and you’re going to fucking like it. Even if we have to fuck every single day,” Jacob sneers before leaving the room and slamming the door behind him.
I don’t know if I can look at Jacob the same way after what he did to me.
I’d thought we were building a bond, at the very least something positive, but now he was cold and distant.
But my mind reasoned it was for the best. He was ruthless, a killer, and I still needed to get out of here. If anything was cementing that for me, it was him raping me and trying to force me to have a kid with him. Which he now took to doing almost nightly.
The blood I could stand—a part of me was beginning to crave the pain and pleasure that came with a relationship with such a dangerous man—but him being so violent and vile towards me? I could make peace with God requiring slaughter of nonbelievers; it was in the Bible, after all, the book I was raised to hold to absolute truth. And Jacob’s ramblings no longer sounded like ramblings.
But I couldn’t and wouldn’t let him walk all over me. I had to remember who I was. The strength I had before him.
Yet when he approaches me with flowers today, completely catching me off guard, I don’t know what to say. I never expected this from him.
“I’ve been a dick,” Jacob sighs, presenting me with the pink and red bouquet of roses clearly from a flower shop and not some cheapo store like the grocery. This was expensive.
“Yeah,” I say after several long moments of processing. “You have.” I’m almost scared to say it.
Jacob nods, voice sage. “I can’t build this new world without a willing wife. But my actions have been more… forceful and cruel. I’m sorry.”
I can’t believe it. He’s actually apologizing.
This man, this monster, said sorry.
“I won’t force you to do those things anymore. Sex and the like,” he murmurs. “You have to be willing, and I apologize. Truly.”
Maybe… maybe there was hope.
When we sit down for dinner an hour later, I find he’s made another one of my favorites: chicken marsala pasta.
I want to believe him. I want to believe he’s good deep down in that black heart of his. If only so that means I keep my life at the end of all this. Because when he gets angry… I just see it. I know he’s thinking of killing me.
I smell the roses in my hand, overwhelmed by the sweet floral scent. Placing them gently on the table, I say, “We’ll need a vase.”
Jacob smirks. “Already covered. I bought one for you; it’s in the kitchen.”
My eyes widen at his newfound generosity today; but is it manipulation? I can’t help but feel like the bomb is going to drop at any second. “Thank you.”
Dinner resumes with only the soft clank of our forks over the plates and the gentle sipping of Chardonnay wine. The drink warms me from the inside out, settling comfortably in my veins. If he’s trying to soothe me after this past week, placate me, I hate to admit it but it’s working.
Yet a small voice whispers in the back of my mind, When did you become so weak?
I choose to ignore it. There’s some of me, deep down, that still wants to fight this situation I’m in—but I’ve seen what happens when you don’t obey and repent.
My mind flashes to that night he came home covered in blood not his own, and my meal threatens to come back up.
No. I refuse to be another victim. Yet the more I try to convince myself I’m doing this for survival, the more my soul tells me it’s a lie.
I’m not just doing this to survive anymore.
I’m doing it because I enjoy it.