16. Delilah
DELILAH
“You embarrassed me tonight,” I heard a masculine voice say as my eyes fluttered open to find nothing but darkness.
Where was I?
Trying to move, I heard the distinct rustle of my dress and felt a wave of nausea rock through my body.
It was dark wherever I was, but I remembered with a pang, the wedding.
My senses alerted me to the sensation that I was in a bed.
Maybe the hotel’s where we were supposed to spend our wedding night.
“You should know, I have certain expectations from you, now that you’re my wife.”
That voice. It was John’s. And from what I gathered, we were alone together in the dark. The bed dipped and I could faintly make out a dark shadow coming to sit next to me. His hand steadied my shoulder and on instinct I ripped free from his grasp.
“Now, see here. As my wife, you’ll let me touch you when I see fit.
You hear me?” A hint of southern twang melded in his words.
He was so close to me that I could feel his body heat radiating into my side.
His fingers found my thigh, and I willed my body to stay still, despite the urge to pull away from him.
“You won’t be telling a soul about what happened between us.
You and I know the truth and it’ll stay that way.
” His hand dug into my flesh harder, an unspoken threat of his power.
It was on the tip of my tongue to say that Cain knew the truth too, but history had taught me it would be better to stay silent. So, I did. I used that silence like a weapon because it was the only one I had.
“Tomorrow, I’ll take you to my house and have you move your things in.
I’ll show you our baby’s room.” His hand moved to my hair and tucked a piece of it behind my ear.
He was so close I could feel his breath.
“I could tell that very first day I saw you that you’d be a good wife for me, Delilah. You won’t disappoint me, will you?”
“No, sir,” I said, knowing the response he wanted.
“Good.” His lips met my cheek and my face twitched on impact.
“You’ll learn in time to love me, Delilah.” I breathed out a sharp breath to keep myself from saying what I wanted to that. The day I ever loved that fucker would be the day he was in the dirt. Six feet deep. I’d love him like that.
“Now get some rest. I need that baby in your belly to turn out strong and healthy.”
He got up and left me huddled in a tiny ball, still in the wedding dress I loathed almost as much as I loathed him.
I didn’t know where he went, and I didn’t care. As long as it was far away from me.
The house he took me to was a two-story, red bricked home with neatly trimmed ivy climbing the massive structure. The way that the ivy wrapped around the house made it look like it was being caged in. A perfect prison for John’s new bride.
It was nestled in the back of a cul-de-sac surrounded by other similarly stately looking houses.
It was a lot larger than I was anticipating, and it begged the question how much he made in his position.
I’d always wondered how much the teachers were paid at Kingston, and it seemed their mortality was bought at a comfortable price.
Maybe house wasn’t the right word for what this was.
It seemed more McMansion than a home. Not a fully blown mansion, but still larger than I was used to.
Inside, it was clear John’s penchant for having things a certain way bled into his decor.
It was ostentatious and filled with odd modern knick-knacks and art pieces that I would never have chosen in a million years.
The couches looked like they were more for show than sitting, and the walls were nothing but stark white paint that offended my retinas.
There wasn’t an ounce of warmth that lived here.
I wondered how I would fit in, if at all.
He didn’t seem the type to share his space well.
Better if he hung me on the wall like a prized deer head than be an actual person that was meant to take up any space.
But even a deer head would contrast with his chosen modern motif.
The house was meticulously cared for, and I wondered if he had a maid or housekeeper that assisted him.
That kind of money was a foreign concept to me.
My parents both worked and they barely scraped by with their limited income.
We didn’t even have enough for a weekend away or brand name items. Everything I owned was a hand-me-down of sorts that came from the thrift store or the donation pile at the church my parents attended.
Most things I owned were ill-fitting, faded, and held an odor that no amount of washing could get out.
No wonder my parents jumped at the chance to offload me.
I was a drain on their finances, and John presented them with a life they could only dream of. One free of me.
“I expect dinner to be made by the time I get home. It’s a wife’s godly duty to care for her husband, and you are to fall into that role for me, or there will be consequences, Delilah. I don’t have to remind you of what I’m capable of, do I?”
I shook my head no, not letting out a peep.
I knew exactly what he was capable of. I hadn’t been able to forget for a single second.
Every moment in his presence had my body on high alert, like I’d been plugged into my own source of electricity that buzzed and shook whenever he was near. And not in a good way.
“Good. You can put your things in our room. I’ve already cleared out more than enough space for you. It’s upstairs. Third door on the left. Right next to the nursery.”
The nursery. God, the sound of that made me want to heave .
How was I supposed to get through sharing a life with this man? And raise a child with a monster? I had to find a way out. I would.
I refused to let my unfortunate circumstances break me down, even though all I wanted to do was crumble beneath the pressure.
Maybe I could poison the fucker somehow.
Though, in cases of suspicious deaths, they almost always suspected the spouse.
And with how I vehemently opposed the marriage, there was no way I could get away with it. No, I had to be smart about this.
Looking at what was to be my new room made me yearn for the scratchy dorm room cot.
I’d take Lauren, Bethany, and Abigail’s snarky comments over this hell any day.
At least I knew how to handle those girls.
They were cruel, but they weren’t dangerous.
John had a look in his eyes that scared me all the way to my soul.
I knew he could kill me without a question.
The authorities would probably help him cover it up somehow.
I didn’t doubt that. I saw what they were able to do to Cain.
My chest squeezed as I thought of him behind bars. Not a day went by that I didn’t wonder how he was doing. I hadn’t been allowed to check on his case, though I desperately wanted to.
This was the sort of house someone buys when they’re expecting to fill it with a family.
My hands went to my middle, feeling the growing bump that filled me with so much dread I wanted to toss myself out the fucking window.
How could I bring a poor defenseless child into this house?
To be brought up by such a monster? For John to instill all his hateful beliefs into?
What would he do if it was a girl? Would he leer at his own daughter the way he did with me?
Crossing lines that should never be crossed?
I didn’t know the depths of how depraved he could be, but what I’d seen so far didn’t make me feel like he had a moral bone in his body.
The bed was covered by a glossy black comforter that looked stiff and uninviting.
There was a large red abstract painting hung above the bed that reminded me of something a murderer would find appealing to hang in their house.
What did he think when he chose that painting specifically?
Yes, that’s the one. I always love looking at a splotch of blood right before bed?
My lips curled in disgust as I continued to take in the room.
The gauzy black curtains were open and revealed a fenced in backyard.
It had a patio and a fire pit and was well manicured.
The yard butted up against a neighbor’s that looked almost identical to ours.
Ours. Fuck. My stomach roiled. This would never be my home.
It was all John’s, and one day I would walk out those doors and never come back.
“Like it?” he asked, coming up behind me. His arms wrapped around me and I stiffened automatically.
I didn’t trust myself to answer honestly, so I did the safest thing and nodded my agreement. That was what he was looking for anyway. Someone pliable and bending to his whims.
As he held me, I felt him harden on my ass and his hands began exploring my curves.
In my mind, I shut down all feeling. All thought.
I curled up inside of myself, detaching from my body as he began using me.
I didn’t know what happened or for how long it was, but soon, he was done, walking off into the ensuite bathroom as I lay on the comforter, feeling utterly dead inside.
If this was to be my life, I needed to find a reason to keep living it.
Something to motivate me away from slashing my wrists in the bathroom.
That ending wasn’t one I wanted. I wanted to see the beach and dip my toes in the ocean.
I wanted to ride on the back of a horse and watch the sunset from on top of a mountain.
I wanted to taste a croissant in Paris and never think of Kingston ever again.
I thought of Cain and his promise to find me.
The way he’d said it with such conviction dug deep into my soul.
Though I had no reason to believe him, somehow, I did.
He might have only been a high school crush, and I probably didn’t mean as much to him as he did to me, but he was the one thing my mind latched on to.
Like he was my lifeboat in this sea of fucked up despair.
His promise became my mantra and while I knew he couldn’t come and save me any more than I could break him out of jail, I wouldn’t let him down again and give up now. I had to be strong and maybe, just maybe that would be enough.