Chapter 20
MELODY
Our voices are a mixture of the coldest ice and the hottest burning fire.
The rage that I feel is beyond immeasurable, because how could he hurt me?
How could he be the one single-handedly responsible for all of my wrath, for all of my neglect, and the vehemence in which he treats me?
Maybe it's mostly me screaming, but I don't know.
I think there's a part of me that turned off even before we got into the car to go to the gala.
Even when I headed home alone, wondering why my husband wasn't with me, and then when he came in much later, drunker than before...
he yelled. I yelled. Honestly, I don't even know what I said.
I really don't. He made excuses, claimed he loved me, and I don't know.
All of that was a mere five minutes ago.
Now, I've been huffing and puffing in the bathroom because I'm angry, and I'm tired, and I'm so super sad.
You don't even understand how sad I am. I'm so, so, so angry. I feel betrayed.
I head from the bathroom into my big walk-in closet for the primary master bedroom. This closet is so large it could be its own bedroom, to be honest.
"Mel," I hear him call out.
My nickname he barely ever uses anymore.
What does he want? I don't wanna see him.
"Mel," he says.
He is slurring, staggering, and holding himself up along the frame of the door to the walk-in closet as I sit on the little, round, plush cushion seat near to the clothes, crying.
I'm just looking at the big, towering armoires holding extra clothes and shoes and jewelry.
There's actually a chandelier light right above me here in this closet.
The word closet sounds so ridiculous to describe this area.
"Look, the last thing I wanted was for you to be upset tonight," Daniel says. "Hell, you're always fucking upset. I never know what to say to you."
"Why are you talking to me?" I say, trembling as I close my eyes and emphasize with my hands, trying like mad to contain my anger. "It's clear that no matter what I say to you, I'm always gonna be the villain.
“After what your fucking colleague said, you really expect me to just pretend that I didn't fucking hear that?!” I yell.
I'm glad that Kara has gone home for the night.
"And you know what? Since we're doing this, I know that you visit sites to talk to escorts."
"What?" he asks, his eyebrows crinkling like he doesn't know.
"Don't give me that fucking shit!!" I yell at him, spitting out the words, being the most angry I've ever been.
Maybe it's the extra alcohol I had at the gala. I didn't have as much as him, but maybe it didn't help that I topped off some as soon as I came through the door. I walk towards him, standing three feet in front of him, holding up my hands.
"Why are we doing this? You don't even wanna be with me."
"You could have left anytime you wanted," Daniel says.
"Yeah. You could've too. Instead, you're a fucking coward. You can't even tell me when you don't love me anymore."
"I never said I didn't love you anymore. Of course I love you."
"Really? What's your idea of love, Danny?" I say, tilting my head and my eyes narrowing to slits because I know damn well he is not serious. "By kissing other women in public?!"
"I did not kiss other women in public."
"Oh, so in private?!”
“No!”
“Oh, so your friend was just lying?!" I say, my eyes open with heavy sarcasm.
"She likes to… she…" he stutters and closes his eyes, shaking his head. "Okay. I'm trying to calm down. I—I got a little too much alcohol in—"
"Oh, well, you were talking correct just a few minutes ago. Did you get drunk because you didn't wanna have this conversation so you could blame it on the alcohol?"
"What are you—what?" he stammers again in confusion.
"And let's go back to the escorts that you're talking to and giving a lot of money away to so you can avoid fucking me, as if you're not already fucking other women. So I'm gonna ask you directly."
"Wait. What are you talking about?" Daniel interrupts. "If you're gonna accuse me, at least keep it to one sentence at a time."
"Are you paying whores?"
"No. I don't have to pay whores."
"Excuse me?"
"If I really wanted sex, you really think I would have to pay to get it?"
"So you didn't drop 1500 dollars on an e-girl?" I accuse.
Got him now.
He looks at me, blinking once, and then he scoffs with an open-mouth smile.
"Let’s ignore the fact you were going through my phone. Are you seriously angry about that?" Daniel laughs. "That's not real."
"Oh, so it's not a real girl that you're talking to? What is it then, a robot?"
"No. It's a real girl, but that… …That's what you're mad about?" he asks me, as if I'm absolutely ridiculous.
"That's one of the things. We barely have sex. You're barely home. You barely get to spend time with me."
"Here we go again."
"Okay. If I was at work or I was away all the time and spending company with other guys," I say, swallowing, trying to calm myself down, "and every time you wanted to have sex with me, I was cold towards you, or you see me talking to guys online and giving money to them. How would that make you feel?"
"At least you would have a hobby outside of obsessing over what I do," he bites back.
"Oh, fuck you, you piece of fucking shit! Get the fuck away from me," I spit in heated anger.
"Don't talk to me like that! You don't get to talk to me like that!"
"Or what are you gonna do? Launch me out the second floor window, you fucking coward," I taunt, pushing his chest.
But he remains at the threshold of the door, holding both of his forearms up against it to make himself a gate.
"Get the fuck out of my way."
"No," Daniel says.
"I swear to God, I'm gonna kick you in the balls."
"Do it and see what happens," he threatens, looming over me.
Looking up at him, for the first time, I realize that he's not kidding. Danny can be a silly drunk sometimes, maybe even an angry drunk at times, but I've never known him to be this aggressive.
"Danny, get away from me," I tell him.
I try to push past him, but he uses his chest and shoves my weight back into the walk-in closet, causing me to stumble very slightly backwards.
"Are you serious?!" I shriek in outrage.
He looks disheveled, still holding both of his arms up over the threshold, barring my exit, breathing hard.
His top buttons are open, his face is flushed, and his expression looks aggressive, hungry, and angry.
I don't know what comes over me… my pussy quivers just at the thought of seeing him like this and what he would do to me.
"Did you take something?"
"Are you my mother?" Daniel asks.
I roll my eyes, and when I try to push past him again, he finally lets me because I push him kinda hard. Not like it matters; he weighs so much more than me. But then he grabs me up from behind, lifting me completely off the floor.
He carries me straight to the ottoman bench at the foot of our large bed and shoves me down on there. My knees naturally fall on the cushioned white ottoman as my tummy falls onto the foot of the bed.
I try to get up, angry at him, but he leans forward with all of his weight and pushes into my back, holding both of my wrists over my head as I lie on my stomach. Then he uses his other hand to lift up my gown unceremoniously.
I shriek as he rips down my panties. He growls. The sound of his belt buckle fills the room, and then his pants pooling at his feet follows closely behind. Then there's a white-hot pain that buries itself in me.
Groaning out my anger, I take him in. My pussy quivers around him as he roughly punishes me with his cock, slamming into me with such force that it causes my body to quickly lurch forward with each slam of his pelvis into me.
My body gasps for air, becoming the punching bag for my husband's internal meltdown, which transitions into our external pleasure.
In this moment right here, he and I are not enemies.
We are a necessary force. Our fire burning from each other is required for survival.
He's so angry and didn't even bother to take off the rest of my clothes, just whipped over my dress like the doll that I am for him so that he can take me.
And as starved as I am for his affection, for any affection, rather, I welcome it.
I laugh as my little yips of pleasure reverberate throughout the room because my husband is having sex with me. How pathetic am I?
"Right. You hate me, don't you? So fuck me like you hate me," I tell him.
"Shut the fuck up," he says, thrusting faster.
My orgasm starts to build, but it wanes each time.
Danny is big enough, but it feels as though I have to be at a certain angle or heightened anger to feel anything, for my orgasm to even wave a finger of acknowledgment to me.
Not only does my husband neglect me, but my orgasm does too.
I want him to tell me he's sorry, that he loves me, that, I don't know, that we're gonna be okay.
His thrusts begin to crescendo. My walls stretch as he goes in and then withdraws, causing them to shrink back up the space, becoming small the way I feel before he's filling me again.
And then there's a constant stretch as he maintains the cadence into a faster beat of torment.
As he leans forward, he drags each of my hands and splays them on either side of my head, each of his hands holding down each of my wrists.
My head rests on the left side of my face as I grimace, taking him.
His knees are now on the ottoman as well, truly humping me like a dog.
His chin is resting on my shoulder, digging in every time he thrusts fast and forward, jackrabbitting me as if it's his one mission in life to make me soar, to make me pay.
The growls in Daniel's throat become longer, louder, more filled with his lividity.
I push back into him, feeling the same tempered fury, whipping my hair around that's now loose, and looking over my shoulder at him, glaring at him with lust, with readiness.
I need him. Need him so bad. He doesn't make eye contact with me.
He just looks at my ass as he leans up and then puts his chest back on my back once more.
It's like he's fighting himself. He leans up standing on his knees again, this time resting his forearms on my back and sliding them back to grab my ass, and then pumping me full of his ever-hardening cock.
"Oh, god," he yells out. "Oh, shit."
I half expect him to say some woman's name, but he holds his breath and then grunts very loudly, a sound that carries through the room that I feel vibrating through me.
His penis kicks into me, and then he breathes out an exhale and what's left of his anger, but then fails to satisfy me.
Don't get me wrong, that hate fuck felt good.
"You're not gonna finish me?" I ask, looking back and feeling vulnerable.
"I'm tired," he says, his eyes hardening as he walks to the bathroom.
"You don't get to do that and then not finish me."
"I fucked you," Daniel says. "What else do you want? You think I wanna deal with this shit?"
"What?" I say, tears in my eyes.
"I fucked you because I want to fuck you," he says, walking closer to me, causing me to step back a little bit and fall back onto the ottoman.
I'm vaguely aware that my wetness is probably gonna ruin it. He takes a curled index finger to lift my chin as he looms over me.
"I fuck you because you're my wife, and that's what you're here for," Daniel says.
"I will do everything to keep you comfortable and happy, but I will make you fucking pay when you irritate me and make my life annoying.
Do you understand? You gotta give to get, honey.
And you pissed me off, and you made me angry. "
"And so I have no feelings?" I say. "You never answered if you're cheating on me."
"I'm not cheating on you," he says. "And even if I was having sex with other women, what the fuck is it to you?"
I just stand there, rather, sit here, fall here. I don't know what I'm doing in this moment. I'm so shocked.
"Even if I was, you're free to leave," he says, nodding towards the window.
All I can do is blink because I don't know what to say. My body feels used. My heart feels empty due to all the blood that's bled out of it.
"For you to say those things means that you don't love me."
"If that's the way you wanna interpret it," Daniel replies. "But if I didn't love you, trust me, you wouldn't still be here."
"Then you're trying to torture me? What have I done to you, Daniel? Who are you?"
"You'll learn soon enough," he says. "I did everything you wanted me to do, but one thing you're not gonna do is make me into your pet. Maybe if you're nice to me, we can revisit pleasing you. Pleasing you is you getting to live in this beautiful house, getting to do anything you want."
"Except for my husband."
"I just fucked you. What the fuck do you want?"
"I want you to make love to me," I say. "Is that so much to ask? Bet you probably do it with Violet and Rina and whoever else. Right?"
"Whatever you say, Melody. Sure," Daniel says. "If that will make you feel better about your indignation towards me, sure. Make up in your mind that I fuck other women. If that will make you feel happy."
"Do you?" I ask, part of me not wanting the answer.
"It doesn't matter what I tell you because in your mind, you've already decided that I did," he says, buttoning himself back up. "I'm not gonna play your game."
“No, but you'll play everybody else's, right?” I challenge.
“I'd rather play anybody else's than yours.”
His words cut me so deep I almost look down at myself to see if I'm losing blood. I might need a transfusion with how much blood he's sucking out of me. Maybe he enjoys this, making me feel empty.
“Fuck you!!! I hate you so fucking much!!” I scream at the top of my lungs, throwing a pillow at his back.
Why is he doing this? He says he still loves me, but where is that love?
I think back to what Mrs. Davenport said. I am not her. I'm not the kind of person who can just close down my feelings and pretend that something isn't hurting me, pretend that the man I love isn't making me feel like a hollow shell of my former self because he's decided to rip my love away.
Was it all fake?
The one thing I wanted to take away from her advice was not making it look like it affects me, but I fear it's too late for that. How can anyone expect someone who's being held to the flame to not scream out in agony?
But if he wants me to be cold towards him… maybe I'll just have to give him exactly that.
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