Chapter 30 #2
I never deviated from the routine he insisted on.
Always met him with a smile, hands clasped modestly in front of me, make-up refreshed, hair washed and styled.
I wore the three-inch heels he found sexy, even though my swollen ankles protested; the dress that he’d picked himself in a simple yet flattering style that was now stretched uncomfortably around my bump.
I longed for baggy tracksuit bottoms and loose-fitting T-shirts.
Comfort. The opportunity to relax in my own body for once.
Usually his dinner would be ready, though he would often find some fault in what I’d cooked, despite the fact that it was always something he’d pre-approved.
He would launch his plate at the wall and fold his arms, watching as I rushed to clean up the mess and start the meal from scratch.
It was humiliating. I was no more than an entertaining pet to him. I would never be worthy, human, equal.
There was no meal ready tonight, though. Every muscle in my body tensed as I heard his key slide into the lock. I took a shuddering breath, then launched into the role I had to play – my last-ditch attempt at survival.
‘Ryan!’ I cried, rushing forward, a break from the norm.
Usually I didn’t dare to speak until he’d assessed me from top to bottom and given the nod.
I saw his surprise, his confusion, but didn’t give him a chance to react, to punish.
‘I just got a call from your mother’s neighbour, Madge.
She was calling from Gloria’s house.’ I pressed my hands to my face, willing the tears to come, the emotion he needed to see in order to believe me.
‘I’m so sorry, Ryan. She… she said your mum had had a heart at tack.
The paramedics took her in, but Madge said it was really bad. She doesn’t know if… if she’ll…’
I let my words trail off, allowing Ryan to piece together his own horrific conclusion.
His face turned ashen, and for once, he didn’t look like someone to fear.
Despite his towering frame, his broad, muscular shoulders and wide neck, he was suddenly a frightened little boy.
I gripped his wrist, though every part of me screamed at the contact, wanted to flinch away.
‘I didn’t know what you’d want to do. I packed bags in case you want us to go up there right away? ’
His expression hardened in an instant, and he yanked his hand away, striding for the phone. I watched him dial, checking the last number to call, hearing Gloria’s familiar area code being relayed by the automated voice. He pressed to return the call, then looked at me. ‘Her phone’s dead.’
‘Maybe it got knocked off the hook in the commotion.’
He slapped the handset to the ground, reminding me of a toddler starting a meltdown.
‘She can’t die. She can’t!’ His voice was almost pleading as he stared at me.
He pressed his hands to his face, breathing deeply as he tried to contain himself.
Then he looked up and exploded. ‘What the fuck are you waiting for? Get the fucking bags! We’re going. Now !’
I nodded, rushing into the bedroom, returning with the two small wheeled cases.
He made no offer to help me with them as he opened the front door.
I knew he would never agree to leave me here.
He didn’t trust me not to figure out an escape.
I dragged the cases down the hall in the direction of the lift, but he yanked me by the hair, jerking me back.
‘I’m not waiting for the lift. We’ll take the stairs.
’ He set off in the opposite direction, and I followed him, my lower back crying out against the strain, my stomach churning in protest at the salt water I’d chugged back.
I made it down the first flight of stairs, the cases heavy and awkward, bashing into my ankles, leaving scrapes, then paused, seeing Ryan reaching the bottom, completely focused on his phone. ‘I just got tickets. There’s a train leaving in fifteen minutes. Hurry up. I’m not going to miss it.’
‘Ryan, please , slow down,’ I begged. ‘The baby… I’m not feeling well…’
He snapped his head up, then, seeing me unmoving, sprinted back up the stairs towards me.
For an unfathomable moment, I thought he actually intended to help.
That in his desperate hurry he was going to take the cases.
But even as he reached me, his hand was ricocheting across my cheek.
I stumbled back, grabbing for the banister.
‘It always has to be about you , doesn’t it?’ he spat. ‘Even now! Pull yourself together, Annie, or I’ll do it for you.’
I swayed; then right on cue, as if I’d set an alarm, I bent double and vomited all over the floor.
It didn’t stop. It kept on coming, the retching agonising, burning my throat, making my belly contract.
I couldn’t straighten, saliva and tears dripping from my face as the contents of my stomach emptied over and over onto the tiles.
I glanced up, seeing the pure disgust in Ryan’s expression, then retched again, bile exploding with such force that the liquid spurted out of my nostrils.
I was perfectly aware of how awful I must look – a complete state. Exactly as I’d planned.
Ryan couldn’t bear illness. He’d once told me that his parents had made him sleep in the shed at the bottom of the garden whenever he was ill.
Even as a baby. His earliest memory was of struggling to breathe, shivering in the dark, surrounded by cobwebs and spiders, looking out of the tiny window at the pitch-black night and believing his mum and dad were never coming back.
They’d had no tolerance for weakness, and he’d inherited the same trait.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, casting around for a tissue to wipe my face with and finding nothing. ‘I’ll be fine. Let’ s go.’
He cringed away as if I was contagious. ‘You selfish bitch … What the fuck am I supposed to do with you now?’
‘I’m sorry,’ I repeated, making my voice as pitiful as I could manage. ‘It’s the baby, the pregnancy… I can’t help it. It’s nothing catching, I swear.’
He sneered at me, the disdain he’d collected over our ten-year relationship undisguised as his hard eyes met mine.
‘That baby…’ he spat through gritted teeth, ‘is not your fucking priority. I am. And you need to remember that.’ He turned as if to leave, then spun back.
His fist collided with my belly, and I screamed.
I tried to duck into a ball, to protect the tiny life inside me, but he kicked out, again and again, madness clouding his face.
I’d pushed him too far, made him too angry. I should never have?—
My head collided with the tiles, my own vomit seeping into my hair, ruining the dress he’d cared so much about, and I realised he had stepped back.
His black irises seemed to narrow as he checked the time on his phone.
‘Fuck!’ he muttered. He threw a key at my face, smirking as it hit my eye, the skin splitting open, fresh warm blood gushing out, blurring my vision.
‘Get yourself back inside the flat and lock the fucking door. When I come back, I’m going to show you exactly how you’re going to keep your priorities straight.
I’ll call you tonight, and you better pick up on the first ring. ’
‘Yes, Ryan… I’m sorry, I will,’ I said, not daring to break eye contact. He grabbed his case, leaving me lying on the floor, my arms cradling my throbbing belly as he dashed down the stairwell, muttering furiously about what he would do to me if he missed his train.
‘ Now !’ he bellowed from down below. ‘Go back to the flat, now!’
I heard the door bang, the car starting up, the skid of tyres on gravel, and then he was gone.
Hauling myself to my feet, heedless of how I looked and smelled, I slid my hand through the handle of my case and slowly, body aching, descended the stairs.
I walked out of the fire door into the fresh air and flinched at the brightness, the freedom. I didn’t look back.