Chapter 1
WORK UP THE COURAGE
Twenty Years Later
“Why can’t this be an April Fool’s joke on me?”
Maureen pulled into her driveway after work, saw her boyfriend’s cousin’s truck and would have backed out and left if she hadn’t seen the curtain move.
There was no way to leave now.
Not if she wanted to break the truce he’d called two months ago.
Truce.
That was a joke.
More like Oliver had chilled out and given her space. Not like she ever had much since he would just come find her and bring her back when she ran from him.
She took advantage of it and acted as if nothing was wrong and she forgave him, all the while formulating her next move.
It wasn’t just a dream; it was going to be reality.
If she could work up the courage.
She got out of her old beat-up sedan, locked the doors as she always did, then walked to the back entrance.
The kitchen she’d left spotless nine hours earlier was now a disaster with dirty dishes piled in the sink, crumbs and something sticky smeared across the counters.
Three empty glasses, four upside-down beer cans, and half the cabinets left open like he couldn’t decide what the hell he wanted to eat.
Her purse dropped on the small table, then her feet halted when she saw the condition of their living room.
“What the heck happened?”
The cushions from the couch and chair were strewn across the floor, the indentations in the carpet showing the furniture had been dragged out of place. An end table was tipped over, its drawer half out, and a shattered lamp lay beside it like a casualty of chaos.
“You tell us,” Randy said. Oliver’s cousin always made her skin crawl. More like his skin that crawled with lumps and bumps of evil trying to burst free and grab you.
If he wasn’t leering at her, his eyes moved over her body in a silent appraisal, then he’d shout at her to get him and Oliver a beer or some food.
Most of Oliver and her fights came after her boyfriend spent time with his cousin.
Not that Oliver needed anyone to egg him on, but Randy enjoyed doing it.
“How would I know?” she asked. “When I left for work the house was clean.”
Like it always was so that Oliver didn’t give her shit.
He’d said he loved how she took care of him. Early on, he convinced her to move in, made her believe they could be a family. Something she’d never had. He said he needed her, and that was all it took. No one had ever needed her before, and she fell hard for the dream she’d always longed to live.
She ended up being nothing more than a maid and a sometimes punching bag when things weren’t done the way he wanted.
He left for work at six and it gave her two hours to walk around picking up his clothes, his shoes, all the leftover food and empty plates and glasses, washing down counters and sinks.
“Maureen wouldn’t do this,” Oliver said, frowning at his cousin. She’d never been defended before and was surprised Oliver was doing it now, until he snickered and added, “Because she’s the one who has to clean it up.”
Her teeth smashed together, her fists clenched. The ache in her wrist from her recent break reminded her to keep her mouth shut. She didn’t need another ER trip.
“Why would I do this?” she asked, her voice level to mask her anger. “Did you come home to this? You two didn’t get into a fight and cause it?”
Randy snorted. “Don’t be an idiot. If Oliver and I were fighting you’d be picking his body up off the floor.”
The crimson tide rolled over Oliver’s face. He didn’t like anyone touching his pride, let alone damaging it. “Asshole.”
Randy shrugged. “Don’t be a dick. You know it’s the truth.”
There were traits of Satan in both of them, but she wasn’t stupid enough to let those words slip.
“If it was like this when you got home, why didn’t you call the police? Is any other part of the house like this?”
“The bedrooms,” Oliver said.
She rushed past them and took the stairs two at a time. Difficult with her short legs.
When she rounded the corner, she saw the doors were open to the three rooms up there. It wasn’t a large house, but she’d be cleaning it for hours.
Their bedroom and the spare across from it looked worse than the living room.
The bathroom no different.
Drawers opened, clothes thrown around, the bedding ripped off and on the floor, the mattress overturned.
Bile rose as the destruction hit her hard in the throat, threatening her airway.
Childhood memories of rage that she’d lived with.
Her mother and the men that changed like seasonal wardrobes.
She slumped against the wall, tears in her eyes while she tried to control her shaking.
After a deep breath, she walked into the bedroom and saw her clothes everywhere. Whoever this was, they violated her possessions. Not that she had a lot, but what she had, she worked for.
A tear dropped on her hand, the raised white line there from a knife cut always a reminder of the darkness she’d endured.
There’d been no escaping it as a child. She was always breaking the promise she’d made to herself as an adult too.
No more.
She returned downstairs where Oliver and Randy were talking in angry hushed tones.
They each had another beer in their hands.
“It’s been like this since you got home?” she asked. It was five thirty now. “That was two hours ago.”
“I called Randy,” Oliver said.
“And drank,” she said. “Rather than clean up or call the police. I don’t understand.”
“The cops don’t need to be involved,” Randy said.
She didn’t understand any of this.
“Why?” she asked. “I’m going to call now. Someone broke in.”
Oliver grabbed her arm and yanked her back hard enough that she heard a pop in her shoulder and yelled out.
“Don’t do it,” he snarled. “It’s my house and my call. Go make dinner and then clean this place up. Randy, let’s finish this outside.”
He shoved her away from him, forcing her to catch herself on the wall after she tripped over the leg of the end table.
When the back door slammed shut, she ran upstairs and into the bathroom.
Her tears were cascading down her cheeks like a broken faucet.
Just like her life. Broken.
While she sniffled, she cleaned the bathroom, her hand landing on Oliver’s sleeping pills that were sitting on the counter. She clenched them tight, shut her eyes, her hand twitching enough the pills rattled around inside like a silent message.
Maybe tonight was the night.
It felt like a prank for her to walk into the house like this, but maybe the joke would be on him before the night was done.
Could she finally do it? Did she need more time to plan it out, or was this her best shot?
If she didn’t take the plunge now, she’d chicken out forever. There was nothing left to lose, not after Oliver had thrown her against the wall like she was a rag doll. The night wasn’t over, not by a long shot. It never ended quietly. It always got worse.
She pressed on the cap of the pill bottle, twisted, then shook two of them out and slipped them into her pocket.
When she returned to the kitchen, Randy was gone and Oliver was there looking into the cabinets and pulling out a bag of chips.
How the hell could he be so calm about the destruction of his house?
“I’m starting dinner now,” she said.
“Good,” he snapped. “You can clean up in here while you do it.”
Maureen found it odd that the kitchen looked the same as usual, but someone had trashed the rest of the house.
She grabbed ground beef from the fridge, formed it into patties, and placed them in the pan she’d cleaned and left on the stovetop the previous night.
While the burgers were cooking, she closed all the cabinets in the kitchen, noticed Oliver on the couch with his feet up and the TV on. At least he put the cushions back, but that was all he’d touched.
She popped a rice package in the microwave but cleaned nothing else. It was best to have the kitchen stay the same.
When the patties were done, she looked over her shoulder to make sure Oliver couldn’t see her.
He was too absorbed in his phone. The TV was blasting loudly and giving her a headache, but she knew she had to keep a clear head for this to go down tonight.
She crushed two sleeping pills into the burger, covered them with cheese, and waited until the cheddar melted. The microwave dinged, she added the cooked rice to a plate, his burger on the bottom half of a bun, then dumped ketchup all over it before placing the top bun on it.
How she was going to eat with him, she didn’t know, but she’d need her strength to pull this off.
She brought his plate out and handed it over like the little servant she’d become. She didn’t even know how her life had turned into this.
She never had goals or aspirations like other people did. It was all living in the moment and trying to survive.
She was finally going to!
“Where are you going?”
“To eat in the kitchen,” she said.
“No,” he said firmly. “You know the rules. We eat together.”
She took a deep breath, went back to make her plate and returned as if the ankle chains on her feet were keeping her tethered to the wall. She’d be free soon enough.
He was halfway through his burger. She hoped to hell he didn’t notice the pills, but she’d pushed them in as best as she could and he barely chewed his food anyway.
If he found out what she was doing, she’d be lucky to walk into the ER this time.
She took a bite of her burger, chewed but struggled to swallow past the lump in her throat.
Could she do this?
She didn’t think she had much of a choice.
He’d never let her leave. He’d proven that already.
She’d be trapped here.
The one time she left, he found her and brought her back. Made promises she knew he wouldn’t keep, but the fact he found her so easily and threatened to have her arrested for theft of his property, which she hadn’t done, had her leaving her friend’s house to not cause trouble for them.
As big as Gainesville was, Oliver knew enough people and talked his way out of all the accidents that always seemed to happen around and to her.
He played the part of the doting boyfriend perfectly. Sweet words, thoughtful gestures, the illusion of love. But it never lasted. The moment life didn’t go his way, the mask slipped, and the version of him she feared always came rushing back.
Like today.
She couldn’t live like this anymore. The writing was on the wall and something was going to happen to her soon. Something worse than what already had.
Her gut was screaming at her to get away. She’d learned to listen over the years. It told her when to run, when to hide and when to talk her way out of something she didn’t do.
“Do you want another burger?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, handing his plate over. “And make sure you finish yours. You’re getting too skinny again.”
She stood up and carried both plates to the kitchen, breaking half of hers off and dumping it in the trash. He wouldn’t realize it and think she ate it.
“Here you go,” she said a minute later, then sat on the end of the couch away from him.
He was done with his second burger and rice by the time she finished what was left of hers. She hadn’t touched the rice.
“Here,” he said. He threw the plate at her, knocking hers out of her hand, but she caught it before it ended up on the floor. “Go clean up and don’t miss any spots. I’m going to relax. It’s been a long day.”
His sleeping pills normally took effect in thirty minutes. It’d been fifteen and he was yawning already.
Shit.
He’d had a few beers.
And she’d doubled his dosage.
It was probably for the best.
It was too late to turn back now.
She carried the plates to the kitchen, drew in a shaky breath, and forced her hands to steady. If he noticed her nerves, it’d be over before it began. With a smile that felt too tight on her face, she walked into the living room.
“I’m going to change.”
Something she always did when she got out of work. Nothing about today was normal. Nothing would ever be normal again.
She found her most comfortable favorite pair of shorts, a yellow T-shirt, and her sandals, then walked downstairs and saw Oliver’s eyes shut.
Heavy steps past him didn’t cause a flinch.
Banging around in the kitchen didn’t stir him either.
Oh my God, was this actually going to work?!
The kitchen was messier now than it was when she got home. She picked up her plate and dropped it to the floor, the remaining rice on it scattering everywhere.
Her head shifted to see if he woke. Nope, out cold.
She took the deepest breath of her life, let it out, then took another and closed her eyes. Steady. She’d come too far to turn back now. If he figured out what she’d done, if he realized she’d drugged him, he’d kill her.
She picked up a knife and returned to the living room.