Chapter 14 ~ Isabella #2
I slowly move towards my place setting, which is right next to his, not looking up at him at all.
He places his napkin on his plate and goes to pull out my chair for me.
As I attempt to slide into my chair without touching him, I am cautious, giving him a wide berth.
I slid in and he gathers my hair in his hands, gently laying it along my back exposing my face.
I no longer can use my hair as a shield from his penetrating gaze.
I lean forward and slightly turn my head to look at him.
His eyes are still riddled with irritation, so I turn and look down at my plate.
Alexander returns to his seat, replacing the napkin on his lap.
My throat has closed up and inside I feel shaky, everything trembles waiting for the next bellow to come my way.
He clears his throat, speaking slightly softer, “So, do you like your room? Did you get yourself settled in?”
He puts his elbows on the table and staples his fingers in front of his lips, waiting for my reply. All I can do is nod my head yes and reach my quaking hand for my glass of water, taking a sip. I look in the opposite direction toward the end of the room.
I put my glass down, and my hand is chilled from the ice water.
I pull my hand back in my sweater sleeves, rubbing my palms together.
A door at the end of the dining room bursts open and a middle-aged woman with grey hair pulled back in a ponytail comes flying in with two platters covered in silver domes.
She doesn’t look at us, just sets one in front of Alex, the other she swiftly places in front of me. She lifts the lid and backs away quietly, not saying a word, taking the lids with her.
The meal looks delicious. Double baked potatoes, rice pilaf with grilled rosemary chicken breast and a side of seasoned vegetables.
Rolls with butter are already on the table and my stomach rumbles.
I’m hungry but how much I can eat I’m not sure.
Since entering this room, I’ve been a ball of nerves.
“Dig in, don’t be shy. You never ate much last night and by the way, you were working so hard today, I don’t think you took much time to eat lunch either.”
Alexander points at my plate with his fork, then goes back to cutting his chicken, taking a large fork full and stuffing it in his mouth.
I snap my gaze to him, my mouth hanging open as if to say; “How would you know? Were you watching me?” Then I think better of it and close my mouth. I’m in enough trouble, so I just lift my knife and fork and start cutting my chicken.
We eat in relative silence, the scraping of our cutlery, Alex’s heavy breathing through his nose as he chews, the only sound reverberating around the huge dining room. The sound is rather annoying.
I’ve gotten halfway through my chicken, eaten my rice, and picked out the carrots on my plate.
The tension in the air is thick and I don’t think I can eat much more without feeling sick, so I put my cutlery down and fold my hands in my lap again, looking at the far wall, praying the grey-haired lady will come rushing out so we can get this meal over with.
“Is this how our marriage is going to be?” Alex muffles around a mouth full of food stuffed in the side of his cheek.
“You staying silent while starving yourself?” he asks, raising a black eyebrow.
“You’ve only eaten half your chicken, a few carrots, and you haven’t touched your potato at all? Is the meal not to your liking?”
I just sat there looking at my plate. I can feel my cheeks heating up. I swear he only wants me around as a verbal and sometimes physical punching bag.
I swallow past the dryness in my throat, reaching for my water, “It was delicious, but I’ve had enough. I’ll thank the cook after dinner.” I take a drink and set my glass down, putting my hands on my lap and picking at my sweater cuffs.
The crash of metal meeting wood makes me jump in my seat as Alexander slams his cutlery on either side of his plate. I stifle a cry as I watch the dishes on the table vibrate.
Alexander’s deep voice detonates across the walls, “For fuck sakes, Isabella, I’m trying to talk to you and all you can do is play with your food and mope? Mumble a few words?”
He throws his hands up in the air, letting them fall heavily down on the arms of his chair. He leans in further towards me. “What are you, ten? Grow up and act like an adult.”
He raises one hand, palm up, and gestures to my plate, “Eat your fucken meal, ask me questions. Is there nothing you want or need to know about who and what I am? What’s to be expected of you?”
I curl into myself. No matter what I say at this point, it is just going to anger him further.
So I shake my head no.
Alexander grips the arm of his chair and says, with gritted teeth, “No? As in, you don’t want to know anything about me?
” I nod yes, and I look back over to the far wall, turning my head away from him, and pulling my hands fully into my sweater cuffs.
As if that will help protect me. I clear my throat, but my voice is weak.
“Please excuse me, I’ll be right back. I need to pee. ”
I do not ask for permission. I do not look at him as I slowly slide out of my chair, making my way to the door. Like the rabbit running from the fox, I move quickly and quietly, making no sound as I reach the door and step out into the hallway.
Alexander hasn’t so much as moved or said a word at my retreat. I move faster now that there is a door separating us and head for the stairs. Taking two at a time, I reach the top of the landing and make a dead run for the safety of my room.
I open the door and slam it behind me, turning the lock.
I run across the room and head to the bathroom, locking that door as well.
I go to the far wall by the tub. My towel is still on the floor and lean against the wall, slowly sinking to the floor.
I’m not going back out to dinner; I’m not leaving this room until I have to go to work tomorrow.
Call me a weakling, but I don’t think my mind can take any more of his games. Nothing I say or do is right. I’ll be chastised no matter what decision I make.
So, for once, I’m choosing to stay in this bathroom with two locked doors between him and me. Once I can breathe again, I’m filling that tub with hot water and pour half that jar of lavender in there and pretend that this day never happened.
Twenty minutes later, my hands are wrinkled, and my muscles are finally relaxing.
The water is getting cold, and I am tired, but I would love to stay here longer.
I get up, letting the water slip off my body before reaching for the fluffy towel I laid by the tub, wrapping it around me, and tucking in the end under my arm.
I flip my head upside down, wrapping the long mass of my hair in a hand towel, and head over to the sink.
I pull open the drawer, grab the brush, and put the hair dryer beside it. I rub out some of the water and run the brush through, getting rid of some knots before drying it. The hum of the dryer is sort of soothing in a way; the monotony of brush strokes, followed by the dryer, repeat.
I’m lost in the comfort of doing something normal when suddenly the boom echoes around the bathroom as the door slams into the wall.
Alexander storms in, his fists clenched at his sides, his grey eyes blazing silver as he stomps toward me.
I let out a bloodcurdling scream. I throw my blow dryer at him.
I scream again and clutch my towel around my chest.
I dart to the side, ducking low to evade his attempt to grab me. He points his finger in my face as I straighten up and move to the side, forcing him to turn slightly as I gain more opportunity to get closer to the now broken door.
He roars at me, “You insolent little witch!”
He lunges forward again to grab me, but I dart to the other side, past the sink, and make a break for the bedroom.
It happens so fast in my mind that I’m not even sure where this stupid chant came from. I once watched a cartoon movie where the characters were being chased by a predator. My mind kept hearing them say, “Zig, Zag, Zig, Zag”
So that’s what I do. I can’t see him behind me, so dart left, then right, and left again. I’m so close to the door.
Yes!!!
The next step right and then I pool all my energy into my version of a long distant jump over the bathroom threshold, landing with a loud thump in my bedroom.
I turn and look up at Alexander and say, “Suck it! Zigzag baby!”
I punch my fist in the air.
The smile on my face hurts. I’m so proud of myself for actually escaping. I get so caught up in the moment of succeeding that I forget what exactly I was running from.
Alexander is standing there, his brows creased in anger or confusion. I’m not sure, but I know I’ve never seen him this mad.
“Are you fucken drunk?” He barks again as starts heading straight at me.
Oh shit, I turn to run. I make about four zig zags before the bedroom door crashes open.
All I see is a gigantic man with a gun drawn and I hit the floor with a scream.
I roll over and crawl, my ass in the air, my hand over my butt so the towel doesn’t show my girly bits, making me look like a lame dog as I make my way to my bed.
I can see the man pointing the gun all over the room, darting it around, looking for threats.
“What the fuck is going on in here? I heard a scream.”
Carlos’s deep voice registers and I stop mid-crawl and look up at him. He tucks his gun back in his chest holster and looks at Alexander, who is now out of the bathroom with his hands on his hips, glaring at me.
Alexander huffs out an exasperated sigh and points at me on the floor. I roll over onto my butt and lift my chin, clutching the towel tighter, trying to gather some dignity.
“Ask little zigzag.” He growls.
Carlos shifts his gaze from Alexander to me and his one eyebrow raised, momentarily stunned to see me sitting on the floor.