12:39 p.m.
Gray walls.
Black table.
Plastic, fake red roses.
Everything in place.
"Alice? ... Ms. Beaumont? ... Alice Beaumont ..."
"Yes, Doctor."
Five steps across the room, three steps over the soft, patterned carpet. Four cushions. A white throw draped loosely over the armrest.
Alice took a seat, her body so tired that she fell back against the cushions of the couch, her vacant eyes staring at the man who was seated across from her, his expression filled with dread and concern.
“You’re regressing, Alice. Distancing yourself from everything you’ve fought to uncover.”
His pen tapped against his paper. The clock ticked from the wall. Water dripped from the faucet in the bathroom that was hidden behind the dark wood of a partially open door.
“I don’t want to go there, Doc. It’s too awful, too frightening to believe it could be real. It’s the beginning of the end and I don’t want to remember it.” She shivered, her arms wrapping around her abdomen, her head jerking to the side with a painful tic.
“I’m sorry, but you have no choice. Everything is riding on you now, Alice. The truth, no matter how awful, will be lost if you don’t push ahead.”
She knew he was right, but it didn’t make the task any easier. Preferring to hide in the shelter of insanity, Alice longed for the confusion and lies that had prevented her from reaching this point for so long.
“I’m not regressing, Doc. I can promise you that. What I’m doing is stalling the inevitable. Delaying the end because I’m not sure I’ll survive it.”
Shifting in his seat, the doctor pinned her in the seriousness of his stare. “It’s your choice whether you survive. It’s always been your choice.”
A tremulous breath shook through her, her mind racing as her body struggled to remain still. “He was a monster. I told you that.”
Nodding his head, the doctor spoke softly, “Yes. You’ve said that many times before.”
She grinned, the expression strained with the negativity she was feeling. “But, did I tell you that I was the worst monster of all?”
His face a wash of confusion and surprise, the doctor spoke slowly, pronouncing his words with such care that she knew he was walking on thin ice.
“That’s not possible, Alice.”
Her smile brightened, insanity alight in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Doc. I’m sorry to disappoint you. But it is possible. What I did is unforgivable. And if I had to do it again, I’m afraid to admit I would.”
Dr. Chance settled against his chair, his pen poised, his eyes opened wide.
“Take me there, Alice. On your own terms, take me there. I’m here to listen.”
Months went by following the day that Max unleashed his violence on Alice. And in those months, they shared a peaceful unity, a power play between husband and wife that had been decided by her submission to every demand he made.
Alice believed that the effort she put into being the perfect wife had paid off, that it had somehow prevented the violent side of Max from coming forward, from using its sharp teeth to shred the tranquility between them.
She’d deluded herself to ignore the stirrings of rage that Max often fought against. She’d ignored the fits of aggression that surfaced every time some small misunderstanding occurred.
Her husband was a ticking bomb, it seemed, and what Alice would learn next was that there was no foolproof way to bury his secrets or silence the demons inside him.
Getting dressed late that morning, Alice chose a dress Max had purchased for her in a cheery color of yellow. Not normally a style or color she would wear, she shrugged the dress over her shoulders and stared at herself in the full-length mirror.
Canary yellow cotton covered her body, a simple dress that was fitted in the chest and waist, blossoming at the hips to flow over her legs. The material was tucked at the waist in such a way as to make the skirt appear full, as if crinoline pushed the skirt out, not fully belled, but close.
The demure neckline was adorned by a scalloped white collar, a set of pearls circling her neck tight enough to choke her.
On her feet were a pair of modest white pumps, the heels only an inch off the ground, her legs covered by nude nylons.
From behind her, Max approached, his eyes surveying her clothed body, approval and satisfaction obvious behind the deep blue color. His feet were heavy against the ground, his chest pressed up against Alice's back as his gaze met hers in the mirror.
Rubbing his large hands over her shoulders and down her arms, he leaned in to brush his lips across the shell of her ear, those same lips moving softly over her skin as he whispered.
"You look beautiful, Alice. So much more appropriate than what you were wearing before."