8. Rachel
Chapter eight
Rachel
Finally, I was out of the hospital and back in my bed. I am grateful that Alex stays with me and drops me off at home. He made it better, even though the whole time I felt numb.
I haven’t done much after getting home besides checking the mail. I lay in my bed, trying to recover and zone out, thinking about everything and nothing at all. My brain doesn’t know if it wants to shut off or not. My body hurts, and I don’t know how to function like a normal human. I am on autopilot most of the time.
I finished my last semester at Yale. Thank god my professors let me do my work online since I was hospitalized, or else I would have been behind and not graduating in the spring. Now, I need to take time to focus on finding a job. But I have no motivation to do anything right now. I know as soon as I don’t have school or a job, Andrew will be pissed.
Opening my laptop, I searched for Lawyer positions in San Diego. I uploaded my cover letter and resume to 3 different law firms. They are small, just like I wanted for my first job. Let’s hope we hear back, but I am not getting my hopes up since I don’t have my degree yet. I don’t walk the stage until the end of next month. I made sure I finished classes early to try and get a job as soon as possible to avoid Andrew as much as possible. I am desperate not to be around him after everything that has happened. My mind still hasn’t processed the fact that he kicked me into a wall. I mean, he has hit me before, and I know I deserved it, but to kick me seems a little extreme, and I can’t figure out what I did wrong.
I am lost in thought, wondering if Andrew can post bail or not, what my baby would have looked like, if I should inspect the clots to see if I can see the baby's face at all, and what I would have been like as a mom.
My body and mind go numb again when the front door slams open, shaking the whole house. I am surprised the books on my shelf didn't fall. I look up to see Andrew storming into the house, growling as he rips the door from the wall, leaving behind a hole I will eventually have to patch up. I swear he will never learn to handle his temper; he just fucking growled at a door.
“Why are you just sitting on your fat ass? I swear you are a lazy sack of shit!” He yells while storming in my direction.
“I-I’m supposed to stay in bed as much as possible because of my injuries. I am also applying for jobs.”
He rolled his eyes at me and snarled, “Quit being a lazy ass and get up! It’s dinner time, and I am starving. What are you planning on cooking?”
” I can’t, Andrew, I… I just ca…” I don’t get to finish my sentence when I feel the sting on my cheek.
“You worthless waste of space! You can’t even make a baby right! Now you won’t cook dinner to keep your fiancé alive? What can you do?” He turns around and storms off towards the dining room table, pulling out his phone, reading something on it, and slamming it down onto the table. I won’t be surprised if the screen is shattered.
I ignore his question as I roll out of bed, holding my stomach. That is where the most pain is. I am not sure if it is the miscarriage or the broken rib, but it fucking hurts. I head to the pantry and pull out some noodles and pasta sauce to make spaghetti. Quick and easy. As the water is heating to a boil, I go to the medicine cabinet to find the painkillers the doctors prescribed for me. I dig through the cabinet, and they are nowhere in sight.
“Hey, Andrew, have you seen my prescriptions from the hospital?”
He doesn’t even look up from his phone. “Nope”
I don’t believe him, but I just leave it be so I don’t start an argument. He had been drunk and high a lot before he got locked up. He probably stole them as soon as he got home from jail so he could pass them out for money later this week. I guess I’ll take some ibuprofen and call it good. Hopefully, this will make a change in the pain.
When the water is finally boiling, I add the noodles and wipe down the counters in the kitchen. I can feel the pain increasing so much that it is radiating up my back. I lean over the sink and vomit up all the contents of my stomach, which is water and stomach acid, because I haven’t been able to eat. The pain of throwing up was excruciating. I get dizzy and collapse on the floor. I scream out in pain and grab my stomach. The room is spinning; I feel like my stomach is being ripped open. I need to get up to at least go to the bathroom in case I puke again.
“Get the fuck up off the floor! Why are you screaming? God! I swear, I can’t believe I am even still with you. You’re lucky I fucking love you! All you do is bitch and moan.”
I slowly get back up to check the noodles and heat the sauce. The pain is still there, but Andrew is right; I should still be able to do things with some pain.
Once the pasta is done, I serve Andrew a plate and then head to the fridge to grab him a beer. He is on his phone, completely ignoring me. It’s a typical night in our house. As I turn to walk back to the room, Andrew stands and charges towards me. Once in the bedroom, he grabs my wrists and pulls me toward him. I feel a pop in my wrist, and the bruising is already happening.
“Rachel!”
“Ow. Andrew, can you let go of me? You are hurting me.”
He loosens his grip on me slightly. “If you would do what you were told, this wouldn’t be an issue. Seriously, why can’t you just follow simple instructions?” He looks down at me, his green eyes struggling to look as soft as possible, like he just gave me the best advice in the world.
He then wraps me in a hug, “Hey, Rae, I love you. I mean it, babe.”
“I love you too,” I say with a sigh as I rest in his arms, trying to stop being so scared.
He jerks my head up and smashes his mouth to mine, causing our teeth to hit hard. He starts to pull up my shirt…
“Please don’t, Andrew. I don’t want to have sex today. I am still sore, and I am not supposed to have sex after the surgery for at least a week. And I am still bleeding.”
“A little blood has never stopped me before.”
He rips my shirt down the center, and then my brand new bra I just bought. Next, he pulled at my sweats and snapped the elastic. Well, those are trash also now. He rips my panties off and pulls his cock out. He is already hard and strokes his shaft.
“Andrew, please don…” That was all I could get out before he slammed into me. I screamed out in pain. I have no time to adjust when he pulls out and slams in again. I am so sore, and his brutal thrusts are causing me excruciating pain. He continues to thrust harder and harder, each time significantly more painful, as he grunts in my ear.
I shut my eyes to picture myself somewhere else, anywhere else but here.
Andrew finally finishes with one last final thrust and stills, falling on me once he is done. He pats my shoulder as if saying good game and pulls out. Getting up and heading straight to the bathroom.
I heard the shower turn on. I lay there on the floor, blood everywhere. My stomach felt like it was being ripped out of me, and I had cum dripping out of me. I feel like the whore Andrew claimed I was. I try to stand up. I grab the chair closest to me, pull up, lose my grip, fall, and hit my head on the table. I curl into a ball and just lie there until the pain subsides enough to get myself up and into bed.