CHAPTER FORTY-NINE #2
Darkness greeted me, but not the sort of darkness I saw when I shut my eyes.
This one felt different. It was a dark that was interrupted by shadows.
My skin broke out in goosebumps as I knew I was in this dark place.
That in my dream, my head was staring straight ahead at the shadowy movements in front of me, but I wasn’t alone, and that frightened me.
My heart picked up. I had turned my head to look at what was behind me. One large figure, tall and commanding. Their eyes stared at me, imploring me to come closer. Terrified, I didn’t, and then another smaller figure emerged along this being’s side—
My eyes snapped open to a commotion coming from Oliver’s office. I was shaking. My hands had squeezed together painfully. Whatever that dream I had was, it was not something I wanted to know. Not when my heart was pounding furiously in my chest and I felt swamped with grief and loss.
The noise from Oliver’s office didn’t go away. It was unusual he would ever raise his voice, but the more I listened, the more I realized it wasn’t his voice at all. The hairs along my arms rose. I’d never heard someone lose it at my husband in all the years I’d been with him.
I began to move—
Don’t.
I stilled at the voice in my head. My gut tugged at me to stay still, though I craned my head and looked down the hallway. His office door wasn’t that far away, and if I reasoned that I was worried for whatever was happening—
Don’t.
This time, the feeling came stronger. My instincts roared not to move. There would be other things I could be sneaky about, but this was too risky. He might catch me overhearing his meeting and the punishment would not be worth knowing what was wrong.
I didn’t move.
Suddenly, his office door whipped open. His footsteps came pounding down the hallway. He found me quickly, looking flustered and angry as he shrugged his light jacket on.
“I have to go,” he said, breathlessly. “I’m having issues with a student, and I need to speak to the dean.”
Don’t ask him what happened.
I swallowed and feigned concern. “That sounds stressful, Oliver. Is there anything I can do to help?”
He bent down and delivered a kiss to the top of my head. “No, sweetheart. Just relax today. I’ll sort this out and be back before dinner.”
I quickly said, “Louise is coming with groceries before three.”
He paused, thinking. “I’ll have the alarms down.”
My heart jumped at that. “Okay. I’ll pan fry chicken for you—”
“I really need to go.”
Before I could respond, he was out of the room and down the spiral staircase, his movements fast and aggressive.
A moment later, the door slammed shut, and I was alone.
I roamed the house, restless and agitated.
I passed the laundry room repeatedly, wringing my hands together.
The alarms were down. If I wanted to make a run for it, I could do it.
But it wasn’t fear that stopped me from doing it.
That horrible dream sat at the fringes of my mind, messing with me.
As a result, I was unusually jumpy. Maybe I was coming down with something because my throat was sore, and I was unusually tired. I couldn’t eat or sit still.
Yes, the alarms were down, but I didn’t make a run for it.
It’s a test. It could be a test.
But the commotion from the office—
I’d never seen Oliver leave like that. What could have had him fleeing in such a hurry?
To agree so quickly to turn the alarms off, too?
The appointments with his students were always straightforward.
I was used to genuine thank-yous from his students, and maybe even some grovelling for extensions on assignments.
Never had he appeared so panicked. Something was very wrong, and it had to do with one of them.
Lucy?
It didn’t matter. If he was angry, one wrong move and I was going to eat a fucking pill. If I ran, and he caught me, there was no knowing how long and torturous the punishment would be. When Oliver turned, he was unpredictable.
Louise knocked on the door around 3pm. She helped carry the bags into the kitchen, determined not to let me lift a finger.
“I thought about what you said this morning,” I found myself saying. I was feeling guilty that she was doing all this work while I walked around my house in a pretty fucking dress all day. “I sat alone and cleared my mind and let that dream in.”
She smiled genuinely, teasing, “Was I right then? Were you living in a different reality that didn’t come close to this?”
I turned around to place the cheese in the fridge. “Something like that.”
“Your birth control is in the bag with the Glad bags.”
I froze, my heart crashing to my stomach.
Louise’s smile faltered. Her eyes flicked toward the corner of the kitchen, though I had never told her where the camera was.
I breathed through the horror and quietly replied, “Thank you, Louise.”
She recovered, too, but her face appeared contrite. “Anything for you guys. You’re the best. Honestly. You keep my head floating above water these days, you know?”
I turned around, feeling weak. “You’re a good person, Louise. We’re lucky to have found you.”
She blushed and waved my compliment off, though her demeanour had changed. She eyed the cameras now, appearing thoughtful as we walked back to the front door. “Anyway, I’ll see you again next week?”
I nodded. “Sure thing.”
She left a minute later, and I wanted to fall to the ground and breathe through the panic attack. Instead, aware of the cameras, I continued to unpack the groceries, hoping he wasn’t listening, wasn’t watching, and wouldn’t rewind to this conversation.
By six o’clock, I had made salad, pan-fried chicken with his favorite curry, barbecue and paprika spices, and filled a pitcher with iced tea. I had a light violin instrumental playing in the background. Then, with my hands clasped on the kitchen island, I waited for his arrival.
Waiting.
Always waiting.
Oliver didn’t return. I packed away the food into the fridge, read in my nook area, and then got ready for bed. The entire time I had a heavy feeling in my chest. All of this felt abnormal. Oliver was never gone like this, certainly not with the alarms down, either.
As I lay in bed, my eyes wide open, listening to the clock tick, I wondered if he had gotten into a car crash.
Maybe he was dead. My heart jumped at the thought, but there was no way I was so lucky.
Oliver was a safe driver. He never took risks.
He worked out, ate well, and was determined to live to see a hundred.
He couldn’t hurt me if he was one hundred years old. It would be the only time my age would benefit me. I could outrun the bastard. The thought actually made my lips flinch, but just as quickly, it fell.
I wouldn’t survive long enough to make it to old age.
I’d top myself before then. Easily. Without a doubt.
I would take that fucking poison pill and eat it and smile at him as I swallowed it down, knowing he couldn’t control me after death.
The most satisfying part would be seeing the powerless look in his eye as I did it.
To see him helpless. Next to Rowe’s birth, to see Oliver lose his obsessive control of me would be the best moment of my life.
If the only way out was dying, I was going to go out with a fucking bang.
It was two in the morning when Oliver returned. I was still awake, but I lay completely still, listening to him as he moved around the bedroom. I didn’t turn to look at him. The smell of soil and sweat engulfed the room. I held my pillow tightly, wondering what he had been doing tonight.
Bathroom light temporarily flooded the room.
I heard him kick his clothes off. The belt buckle fell with a clang on the floor.
He groaned under his breath, sounding pained.
The shower blasted a moment later and he swung the door, but it didn’t close the entire way because a slit of light still illuminated the room.
I slowly turned around in bed and stole a glance toward the bathroom.
I heard him wash himself. The water sloshed around him, and his breaths were ragged and uneven.
From where I lay, I could make out the pile of clothes on the floor.
Filthy.
His jacket and jeans were caked in dirt.
I turned back around, determined not to keep staring. I stared wide-eyed at the spot next to me. I barely blinked, my eyes stung as I continued to reason why he was gone the entire day and back covered in dirt.
He finished bathing and stepped back into the bedroom. At least he was trying to be quiet. He moved around for some time, in and out of the bedroom. When he finally clothed himself and settled into bed, I forced my eyes shut, listening to his every movement and breath.
He didn’t sleep.
He didn’t know I wasn’t sleeping, either.
I peeked at times to see him. Unmoving, his hands clasped over his chest, he stared up at the ceiling like a demon in wait.
Nothing in his features moved. He nearly looked dead.
But his chest moved calmly, the only indication he was alive.
His eyes never strayed from the spot on the ceiling, like he was watching something play out before him.
His face appeared void and cold, but I could see his mind from where I lay.
The wicked insidiousness of it, soulless and dark and inhuman.
Nothing made me more terrified than that look.