I wrapped Joshua’s hoodie around me like a talisman, praying it would protect me. I pushed myself into the corner of the closet and sat rocking, waiting for my answer.
“Get out of those clothes, Rabbit,” Joshua’s voice hissed in my head. “Get into bed and pretend to be asleep,” the voice continued. “Do it, now.”
I scrambled up on shaky legs and pulled off Joshua’s shirt. I stuffed that and his hoodie into the dresser and dragged a nightgown over my head. I made my way to the bed and crawled under the covers, burying my head into the pillow, still weeping, my mind overloaded with images and thoughts.
I heard heavy footsteps on the stairs and I forced myself to be still. I curled into a ball and made sure my face was buried. My heart was thumping so loudly that I pushed my hand over it to muffle the noise. I heard my door open and I felt my body turn into ice with fear. Brian approached the bed and stood beside it. It took every ounce of my strength not to move under his gaze. I could feel the animosity pouring off him in waves.
He spoke in the darkness, his voice low and furious.
“You always ruin everything, Elizabeth. You’re always in the way.”
And, then he turned and walked out.
Eventually, I crept back into the closet and wrapped Joshua’s hoodie back around me. I went back to bed, in case Brian checked on me for some reason, and I lay there shivering in fright as images and memories came crashing back in a chaotic deluge.
I recalled the painful memory of suddenly losing my parents in a car accident. Feeling lost and adrift and needing a change.
The impulsive decision of accepting a job in Toronto, Ontario at one the libraries and moving, thinking a big city and new challenges would help me start to live again. But the move only increased the loneliness I felt instead of giving me a fresh start as I had hoped.
Meeting Brian at the first benefit I attended. Being struck by his confident, almost domineering personality and surprised when he called me a few days later, requesting to see me again.
I shuddered, remembering how I welcomed his sudden appearance in my life. How I unconsciously allowed him to take over my decision-making process, feeling somehow cared for again. His taking control began quietly enough; not liking my outfit and choosing something more ‘appropriate’ for me, chiding me for being too frivolous in conversations, separating me from what he deemed ‘unsuitable friends’, insisting my hair be worn a certain way to please him. I attended more and more events with him and he made sure our picture was taken often and seen through many press outlets. Slowly but surely, I was moulded into what he believed was a proper companion for him, and I’d blindly permitted it to happen.
Six months later, we were married in a simple ceremony and that was when the reality of my poor decision-making became apparent.
Always rather domineering and rigid, Brian became a tyrant. I learned very quickly that his word was law. I was the mistress of a large house with no say in how it was run whatsoever. All my personal effects were deemed unworthy of my new status; with the exception of a few of my books. I had a couple of boxes in the closet, the rest were discarded or given away.
I wasn’t allowed to change a thing in the house. My ideas of warming it up and making it seem more welcoming were met with unyielding disapproval. My wardrobe was changed entirely to reflect the way someone ‘of my status’ should represent the James name. I wasn’t permitted to work. Brian allowed me to volunteer at the library, but only two days a week. The rest of my time was allotted to the various organizations he felt were worthy of my time and other activities he approved of. With only the people he approved of me being associated with.
I lost myself. I was a symbol. I was Brian James’ wife. Taken out and shown off when needed, but otherwise ignored. I was pushed into the limelight as a benefactress of sorts of many charities and reminded of my place by Brian often. I learned rapidly not to let him know the quiet enjoyment I had working with the various groups. My happiness was not a priority with Brian.