Chapter Two
Carrie
“You stupid bitch,” he snarled, fisting my hair and yanking me up. He dragged me into the next aisle and threw me back against the shelf. Head pounding, I looked up at him, shaking with fear. My vision was blurred, but I could see he was pointed his finger as he towered over me. “You need to fucking listen to me, or you’ll be dead before I can get my fucking payday.”
Payday? Confusion washed over me.
“Who are you?”
The man ripped off his hat, revealing brown hair, a straight nose, and a mildly handsome face—a face that seemed all too familiar.
Fear coiled around my neck as ice slid down my spine. I was seeing a ghost. “R-Robert?” I whispered, blinking as my vision began to clear.
I was seeing a ghost, right? That’s what this was.
This had to be a dream, some horrible nightmare, my demons crawling their way back to the surface just to torture me. Robert, my dead husband, was standing before me with a snarl on his face.
He was going to kill me.
I shifted, fisting my hands so my nails could dig into my palms.
The man slowly tilted his head to the side, giving me a sinister smile that had goosebumps skating across my skin. “Do I look familiar to you, Carrie?” he hissed, dropping down to his haunches in front of me as he pulled a syringe from his coat.
My eyes dropped to his hand, recognizing the needle. Leo had something similar. My voice was shaking when I spoke next. “Robert? What the—”
“Damn, I must’ve kicked you a little too hard, huh?” He chuckled. “I’m Brandon, you stupid whore.”
Brandon?
Brandon?
Brandon?
You don’t remember Brandon? My fucking brother, Carrie.
Robert’s voice sounded in my now-throbbing head, causing me to jump. Robert didn’t have any siblings. It was just him and his parents. At least, that’s what I remembered…
I shook my head at the stranger, answering both him and my ghost of a husband. “I don’t—who?”
The cocky smile fell from his face then, anger taking over. He scoffed. “So big bro didn’t tell his fat little wife about me? Figures.”
“Robert didn’t have siblings,” I said in disbelief, trying to wrap my head around this information.
Did Grayson know this?
Grayson—
My body warmed at the thought of him, and suddenly, I knew I had to fight. For him. For us.
Brandon shot me a look. “He didn’t tell you a lot of things.” He sighed and shrugged, putting on a show. “No matter. I’ll tell you what—before I let you leave this Earth, I’ll tell you all the things Robert forgot to mention.”
“No!”
“No!” I screamed, jolting awake and gasping for air.
There was a metal ceiling above me and windows all around me. I tried to sit up, but I couldn’t. I was bound to something—chained.
Goosebumps skated across my skin, blanketing my body in a cold, deadly fear.
Where was I?
I looked left and right and then leaned my head all the way back to look behind me. Dizziness crashed into me like a harsh, unrelenting wave, forcing me to right my head and lie still.
The ground underneath me shifted, and I felt my body move, as if it was being pulled to the left but everything around me was heading right.
I was in a vehicle.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to tame the spinning. After a few minutes or hours of trying, it was no use. I was still dizzy, my vision still blurred. My throat was dry and burning. I also couldn’t feel my legs or hands.
But I was still breathing.
Suddenly, I was in the air, and a half a second later, I was slammed back down onto the hard surface.
“Jesus, Brandon. Be fucking careful!” a female voice scolded from somewhere around me.
Brandon.
Suddenly, faint memories came rushing back to me.
Rossy needed paper.
I walked to the store.
Then, I was attacked.
My eyelids felt heavy once more, and I wanted to go back to sleep.
Before I closed my eyes, I was in the air again as the vehicle I was trapped in went over another bump. This time, I landed on my side, my head bouncing on the hard metal beneath me. A sound left my lips then, but I couldn’t say what the sound was. My ears were too busy ringing, my heart pounding hard. I felt a bead of sweat trickle across my forehead as I winced, pain flaring in my hip.
“Shut up, Monica,” a male voice growled.
I tilted my head back and narrowed my eyes, trying to figure out where those people were. There was a large metal partition in front of me, and at the very top was a small window, cracked open. I couldn’t see much light, though.
It’s nighttime, Carrie.
A deep, smooth voice sounded in my mind, and suddenly, the pain in my body faded away. My head fell back down as my eyes gave up, closing once more. I took a deep breath, coughing at the end of it. “I’m so tired,” I croaked, not caring if my kidnappers heard me or not.
Fight for me, baby. Wake up and fight.
I couldn’t fight.
I was too weak, too tired to fight.
“Grayson,” I murmured, his name coming out broken. The darkness was surrounding me now, beckoning me to fall back into it, to let go.
Sunshine.
I told him I loved him, but I don’t know it if was out loud or not.
It was too late. The darkness had taken me.
“Carrie, I don’t have time for this,” Robert sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses on top of his head.
He only wore them for the computer, but lately, he’d been wearing them more and more. It was odd, given that they were readers. Maybe he liked the look of them on his face; I couldn’t figure it out. He certainly didn’t ask me for my opinion on the matter.
“Robert, I just want to know if you’re going to be home tonight,” I clarified softly, my fingers smoothing out my workout top. I was covered in sweat and badly needed a shower, but I needed to catch Robert before he vanished for the day. More and more, he’d been spending less time at home. He told me it was for work, that my father needed him on a big project.
I never knew the details of those things.
My father never told me anything about his career or his life.
All I knew was he was trying to run for Mayor of St. Louis, and he’d told me I needed to look my best for Robert. We had to make a good impression on the people, of course.
“I don’t know,” my husband sighed, correcting his glasses. He wasn’t looking at me. Then again, he stopped looking at me the second I finished walking down the aisle.
“I thought it would be nice if we had dinner and then sat out on the front porch. You know? Like we used to.” There was so much hope in my voice, it was almost embarrassing. All I wanted was to spend time with my husband. Was that too much to ask?
“Carrie, the last thing you need to be thinking about is dinner,” Robert said, his upper lip curling slightly as he shook his head in disappointment. Not looking at my face, his brown eyes dropped to my legs. I’d worn a pair of black biker shorts to the gym this morning. I knew it was going to be a hard workout, and I wanted to be cool.
I remained frozen as my husband, the one who was supposed to love me, did his assessment of my body. My spine stiffened, and I put my tongue to the top of my mouth, just in case he wanted to actually look at my face.
When the sound of his clicking tongue filled the air, my heart sank, and I braced for his next words.
“Your thighs are too big, Carrie. Jesus, your father is about to run for Mayor. We have events to attend,” Robert said, his voice filled with disgust.
My eyes stung with tears as a sharp pain sliced through the organ in my chest. This man was my husband. We slept beside each other every night. He vowed in front of God and everyone in that church that he’d love and cherish me for the rest of his days.
Was this love?
Had I gotten it all wrong?
There was no love in my home growing up, only judgment. Dammit, I had hope that when I was finally away from my father, things would be different. One day, I’d find out was love was supposed to be.
Was this it?
Maybe the books and movies had it wrong. Maybe love, true love, was only this…a twisted version of disdain and ridicule.
The truth was, whether or not Robert chose to see it, my legs were the smallest and most toned they’d ever been. My trainer, who Robert hired, worked me to the bone on leg day. There wasn’t even any cellulite, not even on the back of my thighs or underneath my butt. I was smooth everywhere.
And still, it wasn’t good enough.
“What are people going to think when I have a wife with thunder thighs on my arm this campaign season, huh?” he bit off, raising his voice a bit. He moved then, checking my shoulder in the process. “Fucking unbelievable,” he muttered behind me. I heard him open the coat closet and shut it. Then, he was in front of me again, putting on his suit jacket. Clicking his tongue once more, he said, “Instead of spending all your free time thinking about food, how about you worry about how fucking overweight and worthless you are?”
I flinched and looked up at him, studying his handsome features. Once upon a time, he was like a prince in a fairytale, sent from heaven to rescue me from the prison I’d grown up in. Now, I was starting to understand I merely traded one prison for another. The only difference was…this one hurt me so much more.
“You never touch me anymore.” My words came out as a ghost of a whisper, slipping out on accident as I bared my heart to him. I just wanted his love, the love he promised me when he proposed, the love I felt when he kissed me after we were declared husband and wife. That was all I wanted.
His eyes were directed into the living room, and I watched as his throat bobbed up and down. I pressed my lips together, forcing myself to be quiet. I didn’t need to embarrass myself any further. Moments passed in silence, and I finally dropped my head, giving up. Perhaps, I could try again another day, when he was in a better mood or when work wasn’t stressing him out so much.
“I haven’t touched you because I am repulsed by you.”
My husband’s words cut through me like a sharpened sword as my head snapped back up, eyes wide.
He was looking at me now, the hatred in his eyes burning right down into my soul. “You want your husband’s attention, Carrie? Then fucking earn it,” he snarled.
A single tear escaped my eye, landing on my cheek, but he didn’t notice. He was too busy walking away to see the pain, the damage he just caused.
I didn’t eat for the rest of the day, and when he didn’t come home for dinner that night, I sat out on the porch by myself and cried.
How was this my life?