“No.” I said firmly, leaving no room for interpretation or pacification. “I saw you with that girl before the show.”
A quick flash of fear crossed Dean’s face, but his self-control was swift and soon his expression was devoid of emotion again.
“I’m not sure what you thought you saw, but it wasn’t what it looked like,” he said as he turned and walked back towards the kitchen in search of a beer, quickly dismissing me.
“I SAW YOU KISS HER!!” I shouted at his retreating form, not giving a fuck if the neighbors heard. I wasn’t going to stand here and be lied to again.
A chill coasted down my spine as he stopped dead in his tracks and turned around. For the first time in six years, abone-chilling fear, sharp and sudden, paralyzed me. A look of untamed fury, eyes blazing, flashed across Dean’s face, his jaw clenching. His pupils were pinpoint as he stepped closer into my personal space.
Hoping to create distance, I took a step back. I was shaking.
I’d never once feared Dean before this moment; his presence had always been comforting, a familiar warmth. He’d raised his voice to me a handful of times, but it was always something I did wrong. Stalking toward me, his footsteps like drumbeats, he backed me into a wall. He leaned close, hands framing my head. His breath coasted across my face, it’s warmth doing little to combat the chill that was washing over me.
His nearness was suffocating, the oppressive feeling of his authority weighing down. I turned my face away and squeezed my eyes shut.
He skated his nose from my collarbone up my neck to my ear, stopping to grab a handful of my hair hard enough to bring tears to my eyes and tilt my head back.
“Once more, I’m going to tell you this, you stupid fucking bitch. I’m not sure what you saw, but it wasn’t what it fucking looked like.” he hissed close enough to my ear that I could feel the humidity of his breath.
I kept my eyes shut, pressing my lids together so tightly that my head throbbed, and stood as still as a statue, my muscles tense.
“Are we fucking clear?”
I nodded, but apparently that wasn’t answer enough as he gripped ahold of my hair again and I let out a tiny whimper of pain.
“I said, are we fucking clear?”
“Yes.”I stammered out.
He released his punishing grip on my hair, and I sank to the floor in emotional agony. I couldn’t hold back the sobs that wracked my body upon release.
He stormed into our bedroom, his anger a palpable force, and slammed the door with a resounding crash, effectively sealing me out.
I tucked my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. I felt like I was physically trying to hold myself together. Letting go would allow my complete collapse. A tremor ran through me as the first guttural sob escaped, each subsequent wrack threatening to shatter my composure.
I lost track of time while curled up on the floor until my lower half became numb and I ran out of tears. I padded my way to our bedroom door and silently twisted the knob.
Dean was naked, sprawled out on the bed face down. I padded my way to the bathroom and changed out of my grimy club clothes and into an oversized tee shirt and panties. I didn’t bother cleaning off my makeup. My tears, I figured, had sufficiently washed that away.
Tiptoeing to the bed, I eased myself down; the springs sighing softly beneath me, and curled into the smallest ball I could manage. Sweet release washed over me as I drifted into a dream where laughter and love reigned, a blissful respite from the harshness of truth.
For the first time, I was scared of my future.
Max’s facewas a mask of indifference, but the barely perceptible twitch in his jaw betrayed his calm demeanor. Asilent storm brewing beneath a calm surface. I didn’t need his sympathy. Charlie and I were safe - for now.
“Yeah, so.. Things were okay for the next couple years. I forgave him for cheating. He said it would never happen again. He only put his hands on me a couple more times. Most of the time it happened when he came home high or drunk. But, I stayed. Young, dumb, naïve, hopeful, whatever you want to call me, I’ve probably already said it about myself.” I took another sip of my coffee as I waited for him to respond.
When he didn’t, I looked up and was met with the blazing look of a man who was on a hair trigger and looking for a fight. He still didn’t respond, so I continued.
“Anyway, we found out I was pregnant. Dean stopped using me as his personal punching bag and I just became a verbal sparring partner. I knew I needed to get out. I knew if I didn’t, he’d end up killing me. After we found out about Charlie, Dean got really heavy into drugs, cocaine, to be exact. I always turned a blind eye to it, afraid to be on the receiving end of a junkie’s wrath. But, about two days ago, things got bad.” A nervous chuckle escaped as I sipped my coffee. “I mean, I guess they gotworse- they were already bad.”
This is the part of the story I dreaded the most. The thought of returning to that moment felt like drowning. I could feel that tightening knot of anxiety threatening to close my throat, urging me to keep quiet. I wanted to put the past in the past, but I knew that this wasn’t over.
They wouldn’t stop until I paid for what I knew, and I was realizing very quickly that I wasn’t going to be able to do this on my own.
SIX
stella
