Chapter 17 #2
“Ricky, what are you talking about? These stories. Those men are all fictional. They aren’t real!
I’m married to you aren’t I? Is that not enough?
” I attempt to step closer, to maybe grab the remaining books that are waiting to be slaughtered in the fire but I’m stopped in my poor attempt.
Without delay, he flings the book that was in his hand straight into the glowing fire, the ashes rising into the night sky as it hits the centre.
“Please! Stop!” I beg and plead but he doesn’t listen.
He just keeps grabbing them from the pile, turning them to molten ash.
My knees buckle underneath me, and I land onto the wet grass with a thud, my hands shooting out to brace me from the fall.
I hunch over and sob. My body is racking with shakes as Ricky’s expensive shoes come into view beneath me, the moonlight reflecting off the polished leather.
He lifts my chin with another book he’s grabbed from the depleting pile and our eyes clash together, his growing darker than a black hole.
My jaw aches painfully as I grind my teeth to keep me from acting out.
Ricky tilts his head ever so slightly to the side, almost gauging my reaction, like he wants to see another rise out of me so he can smite me down again.
“Isn’t it funny, Annabelle.” He slurs. “That you’d willingly get on your hands and knees, to cry and beg for these.
. Stories, but I doubt you would ever do the same for me.
It’s almost like you love these books more than you love me, and I can’t have that.
I won’t be in competition against pieces of paper. ”
My eyes widen at his words, I almost can’t believe what I’m hearing.
My husband is jealous of my books. That my attention isn’t solely focused on him.
I try to fight my argument but my words are cut short before they’ve even had the chance to leave my mouth.
The heavy book in his hands connects with my jaw and my head snaps back, hitting the ground with force.
My teeth feel like they are rattling around in my mouth like a baby’s toy rattle and my vision blurs, my face throbbing from the heavy blow.
The sky is hazy and blurry as I bring my fingers to my lip, feeling a warm wetness under my fingertips, then I bring my hand back into view, the glow of the fire illuminating the blood that’s now coating my digits.
Sticking my tongue out, I slide it across my bottom lip and mop up the copper liquid.
Ricky chugs the rest of his whiskey then throws the glass into the fire pit, it shatters instantly, then he lifts his trousers at the knees before crouching in front of me.
I rear back just an inch, my chin lifting from my chest to meet his demonic gaze.
The fear and power that radiates from his being is palpable, his voice low as he speaks.
“I will be the only man in your life, do you understand me?” I inhale a shaky breath, the ash mixing with the air, and I nod my head sharply. He pauses a moment before rising to his feet then spins away from me to carry on burning my books.
My head emerges from the now lukewarm water.
My lungs are burning, screaming out at me to fill them with oxygen and I inhale the precious chemical through my mouth until it reaches my insides, the organs expanding in my chest. Gripping the sides of the tub tightly, I pull myself up into a sitting position and tug my legs into myself, resting my chin on my knees, closing my eyes for a moment to bask in the silence of the house, until that safe haven is broken.
The front door flies open and slams behind the monster that’s entered our home, and my body flinches involuntarily at the noise.
Wrapping my fingers around the small metal chain, I quickly pull the plug out from the bottom of the bathtub, the foamy water now swirling down the drain and step onto the cream bath mat that’s placed on the floor, clear water droplets crash to the ground off my wet hair and body.
I listen to Ricky’s movements downstairs whilst roughly towel drying my hair then wrapping my soft robe around my fragile body, quickly tying a knot at the front.
The fibres are soothing over my skin. Hanging the towel back up exactly as it was, I then slid the razor blade into my robe pocket before hanging the bath mat over the side of the bath to dry.
Ricky hates when I leave it on the floor and he stands on it without his shoes on, soaking his black socks.
Quietly, I tip toe across the tiled floor and open the bathroom door, the heat immediately leaving the small room and step onto the landing, I pause for a moment and lean over the bannister rail, my breaths are silent as I hear Ricky shuffling around downstairs, his voice breaking the silence.
“I couldn’t give a fuck whose responsible for this monumental fuck up!
” He shouts down what I’m assuming is the phone.
“My drugs were supposed to land at the drop off point.. Today! Not yesterday, not tomorrow, to-fucking-day! Find my fucking shipment Nico, or it’ll be your intestines that I rip out next.
” From where I’m standing, I hear him slam the phone on the kitchen island before making his way over to the liquor cupboard, no doubt picking out his favourite whiskey.
I don’t wait around to see what his next move will be and scuttle across the landing towards our bedroom, pushing the door open and softly clicking it closed behind me.
Keeping the lights off, I shed out of my robe and hang it on the back of the door before quickly shuffling into a matching pair of white pyjamas that Ricky chose for me.
He said I shouldn’t be wearing dark clothing, that it doesn’t suit my complexion, so I don’t.
Throwing the heavy quilt back, I climb into the expensive but comfortable bed and lay on my side, my back facing the door and tuck the covers up to my chin in hopes that this soft armour will shield me from Ricky’s wrath.
I lie in total darkness and complete silence, listening for footsteps downstairs.
I always knew my husband had his tainted hands in dodgy dealings because there is no way his one casino, that I never hear anything about, makes him the millions that he owns.
My husband thinks I’m stupid, that I don’t pay attention or listen to the small talk that I hear, but I do.
I pay attention to everything. And knowing that everything, is gonna be the thing that gets me out of here.
No one suspects a silent wife, and when my time comes, I’ll take it.
Whether I leave here bloodied and bruised, or in a body bag.