Chapter 1 #2
“We’ve been trying for a baby for three fucking months.” He grates the words out, his voice tight and strained and his teeth clenched. He’s still holding onto my arm, and his fingers are gripping me so tightly that I’m sure it will leave bruises.
Then his expression changes as though a thought has just plunked into place, his grip loosens and his brows pull together in a deep frown.
He backs out of the shower, and in the time it takes me to put on my robe, he is pulling everything out of the cabinets and tearing the place apart.
Creams and lotions are hitting the floor all around us, smashing and leaving a slippery mess.
“Aaron, what the hell are you doing?”
He doesn’t answer as he continues to empty the cupboards and drawers until the bathroom floor is covered. He kicks some of the things out of the way as he pushes past me, out of the en suite bathroom and into our bedroom.
“Where are they?” he roars, rushing to my dressing table.
“What are you talking about? Aaron, stop it …” I try to grab his arm to make him stop, but he jerks it away, pulling out the top drawer and emptying the contents on the floor, and it dawns on me what he’s looking for. We both see it at the same time.
Shit.
His eyes fly up and lock onto mine.
I can’t move. Can’t speak. I know he knows.
We both dive for the box at the same time, but he’s quicker than me and picks it up, snatching it out of my grasp.
He opens the tab and pulls out the half empty packet.
He looks at the little white pills, calculating how many there are as I’m rooted to the spot, nervous for his reaction the longer he stays silent.
“You fucking bitch!”
I flinch involuntarily at the sheer volume of his voice, then brace for a further onslaught.
He flings the pills on the floor and in two strides he’s in front of me, his face just inches from mine.
“You lied to me, Natalie.” He’s so close I can feel his breath on my lips.
“You let me think we were trying for a baby, yet all along you’ve been taking your fucking pills. ”
I look down, to avoid eye contact with him and try to think of a way to diffuse the situation a little, but there is nothing I can say to make this any better.
He roughly grabs my face with one of his hands and lifts it so I’m forced to look at him.
He squeezes my cheeks, his thumb and forefinger digging into my cheekbones, and I wince with the pressure.
“I’ve been working myself into the ground to provide for you, to pay for all your nice clothes and your expensive lunches out with the wives so that we can have a family together, and this is how you repay me? ”
“Aaron, please, I—”
“You what? Explain why you FUCKING LIED TO ME!” He yells the last words in my face, and I slam my eyes closed to try and block it out.
“Aaron …” I can feel my bottom lip start to tremble as images of what may happen next fill my mind. I know what’s coming. I’ve been here before.
His fingers release their pressure on my jaw before my head snaps to the side, the back of his left hand connecting with my cheek and stunning me.
It takes a couple of seconds to comprehend what he has just done.
His wedding ring leaves a sharp sting, and my cheek starts to burn.
I instinctively put my hand up to touch my face as my eyes meet his.
“Fuck.” He releases the word on a breath. His eyes are wide, and his mouth is gaping open in shock. “Natalie, oh god … I didn’t mean to, I don’t know why …” He reaches out to me, and when I recoil, the tears well in his eyes. “Please, Nat, I’m so, so, sorry.”
“Get. Away. From. Me.”
I start to walk backwards, my hand still covering my cheek in disbelief. I could see it moving in this direction. But I’d told myself that not all men were like Jonny, that not all men got mad and hit out. But it’s happened again.
I back into the bathroom on shaky legs, slamming the door behind me and sliding the bolt as fast as I can. I tighten the belt on my robe, then scrape my wet hair into a messy pile on top of my head and secure it with a band. My cheek stings when I touch it, making me wince. I’m bleeding.
I rush to the mirror to take a look. Underneath my left eye is already starting to swell and my cheek is covered with an angry red mark.
I know from experience that this color will only deepen until the blackness of a bruise covers it.
There is an inch of broken skin along my cheekbone, and the blood is starting to trickle down the side of my face.
“Natalie … please, let me in. I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry …” he begs.
Hearing his pitiful voice through the door brings back memories. Only this time it doesn’t fill me with fear. It makes me determined.
This is not going to happen to me again.
I know he probably feels terrible, and if I gave him the chance, he would apologize a thousand times to ease his guilt. He would beg and plead and promise that it would never happen again. He’d make it up to me with jewelry and a weekend break.
I know.
I’ve been here before.
But I don’t feel sorry for him. I know I lied, but I didn’t deserve that. “Go away,” I manage to say, still staring at my reflection.
“Nat, just let me in …”
“I said, GO AWAY!”
I hear his footsteps walk away, and the loud bang of the bedroom door slamming makes me jump. My legs suddenly feel very weak, and my head is spinning as a wall of tears builds in front of my eyes, threatening to spill at any minute.
The fear, the shouting, the feeling of helplessness …
it’s emotional overload and too much for me to take.
I lower myself to the floor in a heap and curling up in a little ball, I tuck my knees tightly to my chest and wrap my arms around them.
Then the tears start to fall freely, and I let them, not holding anything back.
I begin to acknowledge that the last three months have been chipping away at my self-imposed armor and reduced me to the girl I used to be all too familiar with, the place I thought I’d never go again, the life I tried so hard to avoid.
I might have changed my name, my identity, but the path my life is taking feels very familiar.
I don’t know how long I’ve been crying for, but when I lift my head up and open my eyes it’s dusk outside.
My shoulders are tight and my chest aches from my body wracking sobs.
When I stand up and straighten my body out, every muscle is protesting and my head pounds as I look around me at the evidence of the earlier argument.
Flicking on the light switch, I survey everything with a stark realization.
Everything feels so much worse in the dark but looks so much worse in the light.
Resting my hands on either side of the bathroom sink, I look into the mirror, staring at my reflection and acknowledging the feeling of resignation that is setting in.
My eyes are swollen and red and it stings every time I blink.
There are trails of black mascara that have mingled with blood and dried in smudged lines down my cheeks.
This is a face that I have seen many times before, a distant, broken look that I hadn’t ever wanted to see again.
I can’t stay here.
I can’t stay married to Aaron.
Deep down, I never truly believed this would be a permanent arrangement, and I was stupid and weak for letting myself think that what we had could possibly become real. Jesus, the guy didn’t even know my true name …
Happily ever after was never a possibility.
I know what I have to do.
It’s fight or flight and we have been fighting for far too long.
Unknowingly, Aaron has given me an out. He’s given me the perfect reason to leave.
Splashing cold water on my face soothes the heat I can feel surrounding my eyes.
I’ve cried out every last tear left in my body and there is nothing left to give.
I feel nothing now. I’m empty, devoid of feeling any emotion other than annoyance at myself for letting this happen again.
The cold water awakens my skin and spurs me on to what I know is the next step in rebuilding my life.
I clean up the cut on my cheekbone and wince at the sting that comes from my touch. It’s superficial and will heal fairly quickly. It may not even leave a visible scar.
Just an addition to the invisible scars I carry.
I open the bathroom door quietly and slowly, taking in the mess that surrounds me.
I listen for any signs that Aaron might be here, but there is nothing but silence and a heavy air around me.
I look out of the bedroom window and note that Aaron’s car is gone.
Relief washes over me. I know I might not have long to get out of here, but it’s better than facing him.
I throw on some clothes, drag a big suitcase from the top of the wardrobe and fill it with as many essentials as I can: handfuls of clothes, a few toiletries, and my sketch pads.
My life, thrown together in a suitcase and packed up in five minutes flat.
I wheel the suitcase to the bedroom doorway, willing myself to stay strong and forcing my feet to keep walking. I walk faster and faster until I run down the curved staircase, the suitcase hitting every step with a thud as I drag it behind me.
When I reach the foyer, I pick up my purse.
I don’t know how far away I can get with my credit cards before Aaron puts a stop on them to cut me off, or a trace on them to find me, but I have a separate account that Aaron doesn’t know about.
I think deep down I knew it wouldn’t work out, so I kept my backup quiet while still putting a little away in savings.
I take off my rings and leave them on the side table next to the front door so he will see them when he walks in.
If he didn’t already know that our sham of a marriage was over, he will when he finds my rings there.
I snatch up my keys, fling the front door open, grab my suitcase and flee.
Pressing the button on the key fob, my Porsche Carrera blips, and the lights flash to indicate it’s unlocked.
I bundle my suitcase across to the passenger’s seat and jump in.
The wheels spin out of the drive and kick up a cloud of dust and dirt behind me as I glance in the rearview mirror at the house I am leaving behind.
It is beautiful, but it was never home.