Stay (14 page)

             
I can barely see straight at this point but I manage to bend forward trying to hold on to my knees to keep the blows from hitting my ribcage.

             
After he stops to take a breath, I look up at him as much as my neck will allow. “Is that all
you
got, asshole?”

             
His eyes go from looking down at his tie to glaring down at me.

             
I probably shouldn’t have said that but I can’t go down like this without a fight. I’ve always fought back even when my own mother used to beat me.

             
Even the first time this happened which was a week into our marriage, I fought back and I have ever since.

             
To say I was shocked that first time would be an understatement. I mean, the man everyone told me would protect and care for me with no hesitation turned out to be this monster that waited to show his true colors until I was married to him.

             
The pain that I have felt since then is both emotional and physical. Actually, it’s been that way ever since I can remember.

             
I always think about how my life has turned out for me and I can’t help but feel like it’s been unfair. But I know I’m here because of the choices I’ve made so there’s no one else to blame but me.

             
I live life now as if I were someone else, a robot of some sort.

             
I play the good wife in public, and then at home I fight with my
husband
about anything and everything which always ends with me bruised and battered. But not without him getting a few scrapes and scratches as souvenirs from me.

             
I think he’s realized by now that I’ll always fight back so it gives him more amusement than anything which isn’t my intention at all. I just want him to know that he may be my husband as stated on our marriage certificate but he does not get to push me around like I’m his bitch.

             
He kneels back down near my head and takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Tsk...Tsk…pretty girl, you know your defiance only gets me turned on. Is that what you want? Because you know I’ll take you right here, right now…”

             
I flinch at not only the pain from all the blows but at the nausea that settles in my stomach at the pure thought of him touching me in any type of sexual way.

             
The one or two times that he’s forced me or caught me dreaming have been less than pleasant to say the least.

             
I guess I should have known that many years ago when I met him that he would be a monster. But with his angelic act of willing to wait for me until I was ready—it never crossed my mind.

             
When I look back now, I remember that I knew deep down that he was not caring or loving.

             
I guess I overlooked these things because at the time he was my out for the pain that I felt each day knowing that I had lost the one person that I really wanted to be with. Zac was there for me when I had no one else to turn to, to take my misery away.

             
I jerk my chin away. “Go to hell! You sick fuck!”

             
He laughs and stands back up to finish readjusting his tie and shirt.

             
As he’s re-tucking his shirt in his pants he looks down at me with a serious look in his eyes. “You know, pretty girl, I’ve always loved your feisty side. It’s how I knew you would be a good wife for me. The innocent, fragile look you had going on is what drew me to you…but that feistiness is what has always given me a hard on.” He states matter of factly.

             
I feel so repulsed by him that I can’t believe I ever thought he was anything but a douche bag.

             
He continues to make me want to puke with his words, “So, don’t forget that you are
my wife
and I will have you whether you want to or not. I will always own you, Alexandra. Don’t you ever fucking think that you have a choice.”

             
I try to scream at him as I try to stand up but it’s a struggle because it feels like my head might fall off and I’m not able to feel my whole body, “Fuck you! Just because I look innocent and fragile, doesn’t mean I am. So keep that in mind along with the fact that you’ll never own me, Zac, never! Don’t
you
ever forget that!”             

             
I grab the comforter on the bed to hoist myself up. I grunt and hold my breath until I’m in the standing position clutching my stomach.

             
I turn to face him and see that he’s smiling that smile I once thought was sweet and innocent, now it’s just menacing and mocking.

             
I look directly into his eyes without flinching, “You may think you own me, Zac, but you don’t. You never have and you never will. That little tid bit hasn’t changed through the years. You can do what you want to my body but it’s never going to change the fact that I will never love you and never ever be willingly yours. You’re a lame excuse for a man and you don’t deserve anything that I have to offer. You’re a piece of shit that is so insecure with himself that you have to beat up a FEMALE to prove that you’re stronger. But know this Zac Millington, you will NEVER break me down so fuck off, prick!”

             
I go flying into the wall when his fist collides with the right side of my face, obviously catching me off guard. The next thing I know, my face burns and all I can taste is something metallic--probably from the blood in my mouth.

             
Everything goes dark and I can see different colors behind my eyelids as I slide down the wall and hit the floor.

             
“You shouldn’t have said that, pretty girl. You will break, I’ll make sure of it, but for now make sure you sleep it off. I will tell our friends you weren’t feeling well tonight. I love you. I won’t be home too late.” I faintly hear him say nonchalantly near me.

             
Suddenly a door slams shut which lets me know of his exit.

             
It feels like my body is gone but I use all of the strength I have left in me to somewhat crawl closer to the bed. But it’s more like I’m dragging my lower half towards the bed, in order to reach the only thing I could possibly need at this very moment.

             
I make it there breathing raggedly because that took a lot out of me. I take a deep breath before I reach up to open a hidden compartment under my top drawer.

             
The content falls out.

             
It’s the book that I so often turn to. I grab it and open it to find that picture…of
him
.

             
I gently rub my thumb back and forth on his face wishing it was really him I was feeling. Wishing things were different, but this picture that I’ve kept for years is a constant reminder of what I lost—of what
we
lost. I sigh before putting the crumpled old picture back in its place so that Zac can never find it.

             
Leaning my head against the side of the bed, I feel my eyelids begin to shut involuntarily, probably from using my leftover energy to see
him
again—even if it is of the day he broke my heart.

             
I lay in the fetal position that I found myself in earlier.

             
My last thoughts are that of soft hands caressing the sides of my face and down my neck while whispering beautiful things to me as he makes sweet love to me.

             
Everything starts going black as I remember the only man I’ve ever loved and have ever belonged to.

             
”I love you, Jason.” I whisper before letting go.

Chapter
Seven

              I awake the next morning feeling like what can only be described as ‘getting the shit beaten out of’, literally.

             
I lift my head from the floor and close my eyes as the soreness all over my body hits me.

             
I carefully stand up using the wall as leverage.

             
I look around to see that the bed is made and Zac is nowhere in sight. He probably already left for work.
Good, that means I don’t have to see him this morning
.

             
I limp towards the bathroom, tenderly caressing my stomach as I cross the room to shower and get ready for another day in hell. A sigh escapes me.

             
I shower at a snail’s pace because everything hurts so it makes it difficult to wash myself. Even though I should probably be a pro at showering hurt, since Zac using me as a punching bag has been happening for almost a year now. I get my few scratches and punches in here and there but at six foot five, he kind of overpowers me quickly so it doesn’t happen very often. But I still try.

             
As I wash my face, I feel the cut on my lip that I know has a bruise to accompany it, without having to look in the mirror.

             
I start to feel tears building up in my eyes but I will them away because I will not cry, not for a piece of shit that is trying to destroy me. I will not give him the satisfaction.

             
I haven’t cried since the day Jason told me he didn’t want to be with me. That day I died inside and became someone everyone wanted me to be. I became a stay at home wife or trophy wife is more like it, because that’s what was expected of me. That’s what everyone thought would help me.

             
Everyone wanted me to move on, including Jason who shattered my heart by wanting me to, but
I
did it. I physically moved on but my heart, soul, and mind didn’t. Jason is still in my thoughts and dreams. He haunts me everywhere I go.

             
I always wonder what happened to him. Where he is, if he’s ok without me, does he suffer like I do? Does he ache like I do?

             
Sometimes before I head off to bed on nights that Zac is gone away on business. I like to think that when I’m looking up at the sky at night and thinking about him that somewhere he is doing the same and we are both longing for each other. And that at that moment we’re both wishing things could be different.

             
“Dammit, Jason, I’m so empty without you. I miss you, I need you…please. Why didn’t you stay?—“I cry into my hands letting the rain hit the top of my head and trickle down my body until I’m pruney.

             
After getting myself into a pair of jeans and a red v-neck sweater that is sure to cover all the bruises on my stomach, I finish the outfit off with some black spiked Steve Madden pumps to not make me seem out of sorts.

             
I get my make-up on in order to cover up the bruises on my temple and my cut lip.

             
I’ve become a pro at covering things up so that no questions will be asked.

             
Everyone still thinks that Zac and I are the perfect couple and that he still walks on water. When in reality it’s totally different than what everybody outside sees.

             
I shake my head at the thought as I make my way into our huge marble covered, stainless steel kitchen.

             
Our house, or prison more like it, has five bedrooms and every kind of modern and up to date furnishing you can think of.

             
Zac of course, has to have this place spotless for the many parties he tends to throw for his company and for his clients. I hate hosting those the most, I always have to pretend that I have feelings towards Zac which I don’t. It makes me nauseous just thinking about it. I hate it, but if I don’t do it, Zac and I get into an argument about it and end up in a fight that I never win.

             
I smell coffee as I round the corner from our bedroom, so I know then that unfortunately, Zac is still here.

             
“Good morning, pretty girl. I was wondering when you were going to wake up,” he says with a mocking smile, walking towards me.

             
He kisses me on the lips like we’re a normal loving couple and it makes me want to punch him in the balls.

             
I push him off with the little strength I have. He just laughs like I’m joking around.
Psycho.

             
I wipe my mouth with my right hand in disgust as I glare at him. “Why aren’t you at work?” I ask through clenched teeth, grabbing my purse and keys off the counter.

             
He takes a sip of his coffee before answering, “I had to make sure you were okay this morning. Last night, we had a disagreement and I wanted to apologize for handling it in a difficult manner but you had a lot to do with that so I expect you to apologize as well.” He leans against the marble island sipping his coffee nonchalantly as if last night was entirely my fault.

             
My blood boils at the thought of having to apologize for him beating the shit out of
me
for not answering his phone call. God forbid, I decide to keep talking to Magda instead of clicking over when he calls.
Sue me
.

             
“I have nothing to apologize to you for so you can go ahead and get the fuck out of here and go to work. Thanks for your concern ‘oh so caring husband’ but I’m more than fine. So, like I said GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!” I yell, pissed now that he has the audacity to think I owe him anything.

             
He sets his cup of coffee down calmly on the island before turning to look at me.

             
His eyes let me know that now, he’s mad too.
Great.

             
Suddenly, he stalks towards me and quickly pins me up against the wall. “Watch your little mouth, pretty girl. Don’t make me fuck you right up against this wall. Don’t fucking tempt me, Bitch,” he breathes into my ear.

             
I wince at the pain that shoots all through my body. 

             
He pulls back from the crook of my neck and looks down at my eyes.

             
I see lust in his, so I try to push him away but he doesn’t budge.

             
My heart starts racing because he can easily overpower me right now and I won’t be able to fight back in my current state if he tries to force himself on me.

             
“Zac, I have to meet Magda this morning at Julie’s Café, please let me go. I’ll be late and she’ll ask questions,” I manage to say softly to change the topic because I don’t want him to actually do what he just said he would.

             
I shudder at the thought.

             
He leans back with a disgusted look. “Why do you still talk to that trashy whore?”
Well that worked out better than I thought.

             
I get even angrier than I already am, at his comment but I have to control myself otherwise we’ll have a repeat of last night.

             
I close my eyes and take a deep breath before looking at him. “Zac…watch it. She is not a whore and she is my best friend. Please don’t start with me. I have to go.” I say trying to push him away again to no avail.

             
“FINE! But this conversation isn’t over,” he relents.

             
He leans down again and presses a kiss on my lips that I don’t return. I just stand there looking straight ahead.

             
“I will have you tonight, pretty girl. Be home by seven, no later, or we’re gonna have a problem, understood?”

             
“Whatever, Zac, get the fuck away from me,” I say taking a chance and ducking under his left arm to flee the kitchen.

             
I run out the door with my purse and keys in hand.

             
I don’t hear him coming after me so I let go of the breath I was holding in. “That was close,” I mutter as I sprint towards my white Range Rover.

             
I look around my neighborhood and remember that not too long ago I was on this same road with Magda headed towards Melanie’s party.

             
I sigh heavily when I get to the car door. “Boy was I stupid to think back then, that I would never be in one of “those” cold and emotionless relationships…” I say reminiscing about how naïve I used to be.

             
Shaking my head to try and release the funk I’m in this morning, I blast ‘Crawling’ by Linkin Park as soon as I get settled in.

             
This car, which is more like a leash, was a present from Zac for my twenty third birthday.

             
He decided to make it a big deal when he had a party for me a few months ago in front of the entire Ameriprise Financial personnel, that I don’t care very much for. But they were his coworkers and some were clients so I had to play the role of the happy dotting wife.

             
He invited Magda and Jesse which have been together since we graduated college a couple years ago.

             
It was about time for them. They belong together. Always have. It just took them a while to realize it. They’re happy together and I try to see them often but with Zac trying to control who I talk to and see, it makes it hard to do.

             
I am mostly stuck at the prison that is called my home, alone, which I happen to like until Zac gets home from work. I dread those times. We eat in awkward silences and he always pretends like we really are that happy couple everyone thinks we are.

             
The only reason I wake up in the morning is because I know I will sleep again later that night and those are the only times that my reality isn’t the nightmare I currently live. Those are the times that make me feel the happiest because my reality becomes the memories I still have of
him.

             
Those memories help me not to think about the nightmare that is my life. It’s only Jason and I until Zac takes advantage of my vulnerability and makes me hate remembering what I used to have.

             
I close my eyes briefly and take a deep breath before driving away from the house that has everything anyone could ever want. Yet for me, this house is just as cold and empty as the people living in it.

             
Half way to the Café, ‘Never Let Me Go’ by Florence + The Machine starts to blast through my speakers.

             
I’m in no mood to be listening to sappy love songs, especially this one, so I reach over to change the song on my iPod when I see my phone light up from a phone call.

             
“Shit!” I yell holding the steering wheel tight until my knuckles turn white.

             
I turn the volume dial down and then reluctantly pick up the phone without looking at the caller ID because I know who it is.              
Millington couldn’t wait to start keeping tabs on me? I just left for fuck’s sake!!

             
“Hello?” I answer, more than peeved at the thought of having to deal with him
again
this morning.

             
There’s no response on the other end.

             
All I hear are Florence and my breathing.

             
Getting pissed now at the thought of Zac fucking around, I pull the phone away from my ear and look at the caller ID.

             
“Unknown number,” I whisper and sigh because I always get these but they never talk.

             
I’ve wanted to change my number a lot because of this but I just can’t get myself to do it.

             
I’m always thinking that it’s the only way that
he
can get a hold of me…if he ever wanted to.

             
It’s stupid really…you would think I wouldn’t care about him anymore after everything, but if anything, I think about him more now than I ever did.

             
At times, I’ve thought that these hang-ups I always get are
him
, but I know better. It’s just a silly hope of mine—I know if he would have cared, he would have stayed.

             
When I have these thoughts, reality sinks in that I’m married to a possessive freak so I know that it’s either him checking up on me or one of his many minions doing the work for him, just to irritate me.