I don’t know what sets him off this time. I honestly don’t. I’m always so careful—the past year has taught me to be careful. I don’t argue, I don’t question. I make sure everything he could possibly want or ask from me is within easy reach. The cook knows the menu a solid week in advance. All meals are approved by Michael. In fact, everything is approved by Michael right down to the color of my hair and the pale, pink lip gloss I wear. I do not make a move unless it is approved by him.
I’ve been doing this for so long now, it has become second nature. I am almost robotic with it all. So, I honestly have no idea why I’m being summoned into Michael’s office. My hands are shaking and a cold, clammy sweat pops out over my body. My stomach flutters nervously and I’m glad I haven’t eaten. I’m standing outside Michael’s office in our home and I’m terrified to knock, because I know what will happen. If I don’t knock? If I try to run away? Michael will make me pay. I know, because I’ve done it in the past. I’ve learned not to run now—it hurts less. I stiffen my backbone and knock gently. I send up a prayer that he will be asleep or gone. As usual, the prayer goes unanswered. God forgot me long ago. I’m not sure he ever remembered me.
“Come in, Melinda.” Michael says through the closed door. His voice sounds bored, tired even. I know better. The monster inside of him is pacing quickly back and forth, waiting to pounce.
I walk in without a word. I still the shaking in my hands so I can gently shut the door. I walk to the chair in front of the desk, keeping my head down and avoiding eye contact. When I sit down and notice the green silk, slip dress I have on, I panic. Michael doesn’t like green. He prefers me to wear light pastels. I have closets full of pink, lavender, and yellow. Those are acceptable colors. I have on the green dress because Michael was to be gone today. Is that what upset him? I’m so stupid! Why do I even keep this dress?
“It would appear we have a problem, Melinda,” he begins calmly. It’s as if he is talking about the weather. Then again, Michael is always calm. Even when he is doling out punishment, his voice never raises. It stays in a clipped, concise, and in a proper tone. That somehow makes him scarier, to me.
“I’m sorry,” I say by reflex. I don’t know what I’ve done, it doesn’t matter what I’ve done.
“I’m afraid that’s not good enough considering your crime.”
My crime. He always uses that term, as if he is judge, jury and executioner in charge and I the repeat offender. I want to ask what I did. It’s on the tip of my tongue to question. I don’t, I bite my tongue and concentrate on the pain instead. When I make no move to question him further, Michael lets off a loud sigh. The sound is one of annoyance. Annoyance from Michael and directed at me, only means bad things. I can’t stop the way my heart kicks into overdrive, or the apologies which immediately spring up and rest on my lips. I don’t give them voice, I beat them back. You can’t show the monster weakness, he smells it and devours you. I pull my eyes from my shoes, to look out the window. I search for the sun outside. I’m not free, but if I can concentrate on the warm glare of the sun it will help—another lesson I’ve learned over the last year. I try to focus my breathing and that’s when I see it.
On his desk is a tube of carnal, red lipstick. I love it and I sneak and put it on when I am alone. I dream of a day when I can wear this color all the time. I’m not brave enough to buy it. No, I’m not sure I have any bravery left in me. It was a gift from Nicole. I try to keep nothing out in the open of Nicole or my time at Three Oaks. Nicole might have hated the place, but I loved every minute of it. If only because it allowed me to stay away from Michael. When his lawyers found a judge they could buy and had that portion of my father’s will overturned, hell truly began for me. I had no choice but to marry Michael and move in with him. I tried running. I tried and failed. I have the scars to prove it.
So, I stored away the good memories I had. Most of which, admittedly, revolve around Nicole. I risk a lot just to remain in contact with Nic, but she is my lifeline. If I don’t hear her voice at least once a week, I feel hopeless. I can’t let hope fade. If I give in…I’ll never survive. Then, Michael will truly win.