Sealed In Lies (6 page)

Caroline fell in a tangle of silver lam
é
on the comforter, her fear beginning to escalate. He was boiling mad and she had nothing within reach that she could defend herself with, except her own wits. Her mind, unfortunately wasn’t quite working at full capacity due to the champagne and fatigue. Briefly, she thought about the small handgun she kept in her nightstand, the one Warren had taught her how to shoot himself, but she was too far away to reach it. She had to try and make him see reason. She looked up into his blotchy red face and froze. The hatred she saw in his bloodshot blue eyes burned straight into her. He was going to hurt her, of that she had no doubt.

Think, Caroline
, she told herself.
You have got to try to regain control of this situation.

She tried once more to calm him. If he were calmer then she might come out of this in one piece. Most of the time she could talk him down. He really was just a spoiled little boy at heart and sometimes, if she were to offer him something he really wanted, then he would forget how mad he was. Like when you offer ice cream to a child in a temper tantrum, but she had better do something fast. She sat up.

“
Come here, Darling.” She held her arms out to him. “I didn’t mean to ignore you,” she said sweetly, trying to keep her voice from trembling with fear. “You wanted me to be nice and cordial to everyone, so I felt I couldn’t turn down those dances. Those people might be contributors to your campaign in the future. I didn’t want to be rude. You understand that, don’t you?”

He remained standing at the edge of the bed, looking at her in disgust. “Being nice does not mean grinding your body against every man in the ballroom. It does not mean putting yourself on display like a whore in the red light district.”

He reached out suddenly and ripped the front of her gown away. She gasped at the sound of tearing fabric.

“
I am tired of being made a fool of, Caroline. If you want to act like a whore then I will treat you like one.” he said pushing her roughly down on the bed.

A flash of anger surged through Caroline. She’d had enough of his double standard. He could screw everything with boobs and she was supposed to look the other way, but when she danced with a few men at a dinner party she was a whore. She rolled off the bed and stood up, silver lam
é
fabric rustling to the floor. She looked down at it and shook her head. She had really liked that dress.

She faced him in nothing but her panties. She knew what was coming and she knew he would eventually over power her, but she also knew he would not damage her so badly that people would be able to tell. He never did that. He wanted to hurt her just bad enough so she knew who was boss. Anger won out over common sense.

“
Warren, you are being ridiculous. I am your wife, for whatever that means, and I will never do anything to deliberately embarrass you or make you look like a fool. Those men were asking me to dance because it was the polite thing to do, nothing more. It is not my fault that you are always so busy trying to ensure your Presidency that you do not have enough time to dance with me.

“
I am not a whore and will not allow you to call me one. Now leave this bedroom and let me get some sleep.”

Warren’s face contorted with anger. She had never stood up to him like this and clearly he did not like it. He covered the distance between them in one long stride. He wrapped his hand around her throat and squeezed.

Caroline hadn’t expected this. She had braced herself to be thrown back on the bed, not choked. He had never put his hands on her neck before.

He put his face within inches of hers and tightened his grip on her neck. His breath smelled of stale champagne. “You will not tell me what to do in my own home,” he said through clenched teeth. He began moving her toward the bed.

Caroline was struggling for oxygen. She was gasping and trying to breath through an airway that was growing narrower by the minute. She had to do something. She reached up and starting at his wrist, raked her artificial nails down his arm as hard as she could. He howled in pain and let her go. She dropped to her knees and drew in the much-needed air. While she was gasping, she tried to crawl swiftly out of his reach but he was too fast for her.

“
You Bitch,” he yelled. He grabbed her by the ankle, pulling her roughly to him. “I’ll teach you.” He brought his hand hard across her mouth. Pain exploded across her face and she tasted blood. Her eyes widened in shock. He had never ever hit her in the face before. The icy chill of fear began to replace the heat of anger. She realized then how foolish she was to try and challenge him.

Caroline rolled over and kicked out with both feet but his grip on her ankle was sound. He dragged her closer and pressed her face down on the carpet holding her in place with his knee and one hand pressed firmly against her back. She thought it would crack her spine. With the other hand, he began to unbuckle the belt on his pants. He was just too strong. She twisted and bucked feeling her muscles strain and pull, but she could not break his hold on her.

“
You’ll pay for this little stunt of yours, Caroline. By God you’ll pay.” He yanked the belt through his belt loops and with one swift motion cracked it like a whip across her back. She yelled out in pain. She struggled harder to get away but that only seemed to excite him more. He struck her again and again with the belt. Her back and butt began to swell with angry red welts. In some places blood began to ooze.

Warren was beyond angry now. He was enraged. As if Caroline were a rag doll, she felt herself begin lifted off the floor and tossed face down on to the bed. He trapped her there again with his knee as she continued to struggle to get away, but her strength was ebbing away. She knew it was futile. He was going to win, he always did. She just wasn’t strong enough for him. She heard the sound of his pants zipper and knew what was coming next.

His knee lifted and she grabbed at the bed sheets and tried one last time to scramble away but he caught her by the hips. He raised her up, ripped off her panties and plunged himself into her. The searing pain again caused Caroline to cry out and tears sprung to her eyes. She was humiliated. He pumped himself into her with increasing fury. While he raped her, his hands ran the length of her body, pinching and twisting her flesh. He pinched her breasts, stomach, her buttocks, wherever he could inflict pain on her, he did. Finally, he was spent and she felt his seed explode into her. Tears leaked from her tightly closed eyes.

When he was finished, he let her go with a final hard slap on her bottom. “There,” he said, breathing heavily from the exertion. “Let that teach you who rules this household. Don’t you ever humiliate me in public again, Caroline or you’ll get worse than this.”

She heard him pick up his pants and slam the door behind him. Relief flooded through her. He was gone for now. He wouldn’t come back tonight. As the tears flowed, she reached for the sheet and wrapped it around her, wincing as even the velvety softness of the silk stung her wounds. She turned on her side and cried herself to sleep.

Chapter 7

Bright sunlight leaking through her eyelids woke her the next morning. She rolled away from it and was immediately racked with pain. The events of the night before came flooding back. He had raped her. He had actually raped her. The violence was escalating. Before, he would never have hurt her where someone would be able to see it. That changed last night.

She felt sick. If she didn’t force herself to get up and make it to the bathroom she was going to vomit in this very bed. She pulled herself to the edge of the mattress and slowly stood up. She looked down at her bare breasts and gasped at the purple bruises that covered them and ran the length of her body. She winced and the pain in her face reminded her that Warren had struck her there for the first time. She probed tenderly at the swollen mound on her jaw. That was going to be tough to cover with makeup, she thought.

The bruises were nothing compared to the pain between her legs. He had brutalized her. She was raw and sore and dreaded going to the bathroom. She hobbled across the room and caught sight of her face in the mirror. Her mascara was smeared all over her tear stained face. Her green eyes were dull and swollen from crying. The French knot she had worked on so carefully before the party was now a rat’s nest of tangles. Not to mention the deep purple bruise that was spreading across her cheek bone.

Looking more closely into the mirror, she gasped. Her neck had five dark bruises, one on the right side where Warren’s thumb was, and four on the left where the rest of his fingers had closed in the choke hold he’d had on her. Her lower lip was split and blood had dried on her chin and on the swollen area on her jaw. Turning around, Caroline’s eyes filled with tears when she saw the angry red marks Warren had made with the belt.

She sat down on the stool in front of the mirror and covered her face with her hands. How could she have let herself get in this situation? She was a privileged college educated woman, not some misfortunate soul who didn’t know any better and had lived their entire life in a circle of abuse. She was never mistreated as a child and she had sworn to all her girlfriends growing up that she would never let a man hit her. But look at her now. She had let a man hit her and what was worse she continued to let him. This wasn’t the first time and Caroline knew in her heart that it would not be the last. What scared her to the very marrow of her bones was, would the next one be the last time for her? His attacks were becoming more viscous and cruel. He was behaving more irrationally and it was taking less and less to set him off.

Caroline rose and ran some water in the deep garden tub. She added some Epsom salts to help ease the aching of her injuries and sore muscles and turned to lock the door. She could not face a single soul this morning, after what Warren had done to her. The maid would be in soon and she would see the blood on the carpet and the sheets. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know what had happened in there last night.

Caroline sank into the warm soothing water. It stung her open wounds but that soon subsided and she closed her eyes and sighed. How was she ever going to get out of this disaster of a marriage? Better yet, how was she going to get out of this alive? She knew if any of this got out, Warren would kill her. He had already told her that. If she wanted to live, she had to find a way out without taking what was happening to her public.

When the aching in her body subsided some, her mind began working on what she was going to do about her situation. How was she going to deal with this mess she was in? She couldn’t even ask anyone for help. Who would believe her? A fine upstanding Senator like Warren abuses his wife? Never. It was unthinkable. She would get no help from anyone in her circle of friends. Her situation had scandal written all over it.

Tears sprang to her eyes again. She was filled with feelings of hopelessness and despair. Gradually, her life had become a nightmare. Warren had seen to it. It had started slowly at first, a slap here, and a pinch there. He was careful though. Nothing could show to the outside world.

This was her private hell and he made sure it stayed that way. He isolated her from all her college friends. He told her that she was above all that now and needed to act like a senator’s wife. And, like an idiot, she believed him. With no one else to turn to, she began to lean on him for everything, which was exactly what he wanted.

Again, she thanked God that her parents had died before the abuse had begun in earnest. She suspected her mother had begun to sense something was wrong but they had never spoken of it. With them dead and no friends to speak of, like the spider’s prey, she was trapped. She had to find a way out, but Warren would not make it easy for her. He had such a tight control on her movements that his goons knew where she was every minute of every day. They could probably see her in the bathtub right now. She shivered at the thought.

They even had a code name for her: Sparrow. Her mouth twisted into a grimace. She had heard them talking. “The sparrow is flying,” they would say. Warren’s goons had all kinds of coded language. They thought it made them sound more professional. She thought it was ridiculous. She wondered what his code name was. She amused herself for a few minutes coming up with some possibilities. Monster? Master? Tyrant? Asshole? She smiled lamely.

Wonder what would happen if she did get away? What would the goons say then? There would be hell to pay that day, she thought, but then that day would never come. She wouldn’t be able to get away from Warren until the last coded phrase they used was, “The Sparrow is dead.”

Caroline sighed and began to sponge off her sore body. As she looked at the bruises the self-loathing started all over again. She must be stronger than this. She must break the chains and loosen the power he had over her. She turned to jelly the minute he walked in the room and she despised herself for that, but somehow she was going to have to find a solution. She didn’t know what it was yet, but something would present itself. Getting away from him would not be easy, but there had to be a way. God help her, there just had to be a way.