Her mouth opened and closed several times before she could find enough strength in her voice to response to the odd question. “Yes.”
A single eyebrow arched above his eye, his lips now pulling up into a mocking grin. “While I’ve been away working my ass off to see to all the bullshit my father left for me to manage, it seems you’ve taken it as an opportunity to lie around in leisure, to make a mess of the home I’ve provided you and to shit on every responsibility you’ve been given.”
Not understanding where his anger was coming from, Alice shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He’d never struck her in the year they’d been married, never lost himself so much to the capricious temper that Alice knew he fought to control. Max was a man of many moods, and before today, when he was taken over by anger, he’d chosen to walk away.
Before today.
But not today.
She didn’t have time to move before he’d reached out to fist his fingers into her hair. And she barely had time to scream before he’d pulled her from the bed, across the carpeted floor and down three flights of stairs. Pain shot along her body with each step that slammed against her hip or knee, her body being dragged farther despite her pleas for him to release her.
By the time he’d dragged her into the kitchen, she was crying out in agony from the way the hard corners of the stairs had bruised her. The louder she screamed, the harder Max’ fist tightened in her hair and the faster he dragged her to whatever place he had in mind.
When they reached the back door leading to the garden, Max dropped her to the ground, standing over her as she sobbed over the tile, silently watching her failed attempts to push herself up from the floor.
Finally managing to find strength in her trembling arms, she forced herself into a seated position, but was grabbed by the hair, once again, her face shoved within inches of the floor.
“Do you see the mess you’ve made? The mud and filth you’ve dragged into my house, Alice? I give you a place to live, a place to grow your stupid plants and pretend like you’re a good little wife to me, and this is the fucking thanks I receive? What have I told you about your cleanliness, Alice? What have I said?”
It wasn’t abnormal for Alice to drag in dirt with her when she returned from the garden, but it was typical for her to clean it immediately when she came inside. However, due to the illness she was fighting, she’d neglected to do so today, and Max’ anger at the perceived slight wasn’t unexpected.
For months he’d drilled into her his need for a tidy house. Every bit of dust had to be polished from the tables. The floors were to be mopped on a daily basis. Alice had worked herself into exhaustion on several days just to ensure that her husband wouldn’t find anything that would spark his frightening ire.
She’d never seen anything wrong with his demands. He provided her a comfortable life; clothing, food, anything she could possibly need. All he’d asked in return was for her to manage the household chores, to leave him without that one responsibility so that he could see to his activities without concern for the state of his home.
He’d never reacted this badly before, not to the point where he’d caused a physical injury, at least.
His voice a threatening growl, he asked, “Who are you, Alice?”
Choking on the violence of her sobs, she forced herself to take a deep breath before answering, “Your wife.”
His grin grew feral, her fear deepening until she trembled where he held her face barely above the floor. Leaning over her, his breath was a wash of heat across the skin of her cheek, his lips brushing the shell of her ear when he asked, “And what does a wife do for her husband?”
They’d had this conversation several times since they’d been married – mostly when Alice had been careless or made a mistake - and each time Max found a reason to remind her of the rules he’d set, his anger grew darker.
"I cook. I clean. I greet you when you return from your trips.” She choked on the knot of fear in her throat. “I see to your every need.”
Her face hit the floor when he slammed her head down, pain shooting down her spine when the toe of his shoe slammed into the center of her back.
Unable to move due to the jagged pain that gripped her in its crippling fury, Alice didn’t notice when Max walked away, didn’t have a chance to reach up and cover her face before he returned and the tea cup she’d used earlier and had left in the sink to clean was slammed down across her face.
“Clean up your fucking mess. By the time I get back, I expect everything in this house to be exactly as it was before I left on my trip.”
His heavy footsteps grew quieter as he walked through the house, Alice jumping in place when she heard the front door open and slam close.