My head ached and I was so tired. The evening was filled with yet more of Brian’s strange behavior, but for some reason he had been incredibly tense all evening. More so than usual. His hold on my hand had been too tight. His arm around my waist had been uncomfortable and all night he had been terse when speaking to me. At one point, when I was looking around the room, I saw a woman smiling in my direction. Unsure who she was, I looked over at Brian, but he was occupied with his iPhone. Not wanting him to be angry that I couldn’t address her easily if she came over, I hesitantly reached over and laid my hand on his arm and leaned closer to get his attention. He reared back as if I had spit on him. Unnerved by his reaction, I pulled back and my elbow hit my water, only to knock it over. His hand closed over my wrist roughly, pulling my hand back from trying to right the glass as I apologized. “Leave it,” he hissed. “Stop making matters worse, Elizabeth. You’re always making matters worse!”
I sat back, stung, not understanding what I had done except to spill a little water. The glass had been almost empty. I struggled not to show my emotions. Wasn’t that what he wanted? For us to seem close when we were in public? Could I do anything right in his eyes? Intense longing rushed through me suddenly for the warmth of Joshua’s gaze, for his quiet, adoring attention. Suddenly, I felt the tight grip of Brian’s hand on my leg. “Remember your place, Elizabeth. Act properly,” he spoke lowly into my ear. I felt a shiver go through me at the menacing tone. When I looked up, his face was an icy mask of politeness as he spoke to the woman next to him. I straightened in my chair but I remained quieter than normal the rest of the evening, not wanting to provoke his seemingly growing ire.
Back at the house, I climbed the stairs quietly and headed to my room. I heard Brian walk to his den and the door slam behind him, echoing loudly in the main level. I shuddered as yet another feeling of déjà vu crept up my spine.
I undressed quickly, putting everything back in its proper place. I changed into a pair of pajama pants, and needing it as close to my body as I could get it, I went to the bed and reached in between the mattress and pulled out Joshua’s t-shirt. I pulled it on; desperately wishing it was Joshua’s arms that were draped around me, not just his shirt. A torn piece of paper fluttered to the floor and I bent down and picked it up. It looked like a torn photograph. I frowned, wondering why there was a picture stuffed between the mattresses. Curious, I reached in between the mattresses and was surprised when my fingers felt something soft. I pulled the item and held it up. Mystified, I stared at a brilliant blue piece of torn cloth. Why was this hidden? I laid it on the bed for a better look. That was when I realized how badly torn it was. It appeared to be a sleeve from a blouse. I leaned forward examining what appeared to be stains all over it. Confused, I took the material into the closet where the light was far brighter than the small lamp on the bedside table. Kneeling down, I spread the piece out on the floor and looked at it. Then I recoiled in horror. The stains were blood.
Time seemed to stop as images started bombarding my brain. I fell forward, my head in my hands, as I tried to process the memories that were, suddenly, vividly alive again in my mind.
It was my blood.
This torn piece of material had been my blouse.
And, it was torn off me by Brian in one of his rages.
As he beat me.
Again.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rabbit
I lay huddled on the floor. The automatic lights in the closet had long since turned off. My head was buried deep in Joshua’s hoodie, muffling my sobs.
I remembered that day.
Everything.
Brian’s fury as he hit me over and over again.
His hands painfully digging into my arms as he shook me, screaming in my face about yet another one of my failures as his wife. How I always ruined things, not made them better.
The impassive, blank look as his foot drove into me repeatedly as I wept helplessly on the floor, the blood from my nose dripping down my face mixing in with my tears.
I shuddered thinking about his face.
Cold.
Angry.
Devoid of any human compassion.
Because I’d worn a colored blouse. Something bright and pretty for a change.
He had almost killed me because I’d worn something not approved by him.
I sat up, still gripping Joshua’s hoodie, another wave of terror rolling over me. He had been angry and tense that day, more so than usual. Much like tonight. And, tonight I had failed to be perfect yet again.
My stomach lurched. What would happen now? Would he come up here? Would he hurt me again?