Page 26 of The Other Woman

He promised that we would take his son and raise him ourselves because he painted her as unstable and unfit. I bought it all. He was right, it’s what I wanted to hear. When she turned up pregnant, I was livid, but he swore she got him drunk and took advantage.

I wanted to murder her for interrupting the life I was planning. But it was all lies. I looked over at him and felt my heart drop. He didn’t even look like the same person. It had only been a year and some; how much worse was this going to get before it got better? If it ever got better.

He'd gained weight, and so did I. I doubt he remembers the last time he took a shower; that sour smell reached me across the room. I threw up in my mouth and touched my busted lip with my tongue. Is this how the abuse starts? How do I get it to end?

I’m sure people are laughing. They probably think I’m getting what I deserve. But no one deserves this; I didn’t sign up for any of this. It’s not fair….

“I don’t hear no pots and pans moving about. Dinner ain’t gonna cook itself, you lazy bitch.” Words burned my tongue. Words that I knew were going to fall on deaf ears.

I walked into the kitchen like a robot and got out the saucepan. I got out the ingredients for dinner, doing it by rote. These days, he only eats one meal. Steak and potatoes. He’s been harping on me to get it right the way Rachel used to make it.

Everything is about Rachel these days. It seems like she could do no wrong when they were married, which begs the question, why did he cheat with me?

I peeled potatoes at the sink while blinded by tears as I looked out the back window into nothingness. I moved around the kitchen, grabbing things here and there; every once in a while, I’d look over at where he sat yelling at the TV and he hadn’t moved.

By the time dinner was ready, I was numb. I plated out his food and took it to him, where he sat like a lug. “I hope you made something sweet for dessert.” If looks could kill, this bastard would be dead on arrival.

I went back to the kitchen, forgetting my dinner, which was growing cold, as I whipped up a batch of brownies from a box mix. I glared at his back as I mixed the ingredients in a bowl. Like your ass need any more sweets, lard ass.

Oh, I hate him. I hate his ever-loving guts. I Spat in the mix and kept stirring. While the brownies were baking I heated up my dinner in the microwave and ate standing at the kitchen counter. Once the brownies were ready, I didn’t let them cool. I put a scoop of ice cream on a square and covered it with whipped cream before taking it to him.

His plate had been scraped clean. Only the bone from the last T-bone steak was left with nothing on it, but the bastard would still complain before the night was over. He gobbled down the brownie, and I smiled.

He looked up as if just realizing that I was standing there. “What do you want bitch? You should be in there on your computer looking for your next job.” He turned up the TV and went back to his whisky as I walked away.

That night, I laid there while he humped away on top of me, feeling nothing. I was empty inside. I didn’t even have any more tears left at this point, just a choked-up feeling like hands around my throat squeezing me to death.

I let him use my body any way he wanted because I didn’t care. He’d been growing more and more sadistic lately, and I thought it was because Rachel hadn’t been posting, and he couldn’t get his daily fix. But now I realize that it’s just who he is now.

The bruises no longer mattered, but the words still had the power to hurt. He hit me because I wasn’t her. He abused me for not being who he thought I was, his words. He knows I hate anal sex, that it’s painful, but that never stopped him from forcing it on me.

Tonight, I didn’t fight. There was no fight left in me. He didn’t seem to notice, and the way he was going, I knew he had to have gone back on that stuff I had introduced him to. Back in the day, when my sex drive was off the charts, I’d got him into taking these little non-prescription pills that were just as effective as Viagra.

It could make you go for hours. We’d stopped using them a while ago when life started to interfere, but I know the signs. He gets harder, and his stamina multiplies two-fold. Not that it does me any good. He always was a lazy fuck. I’ve had to get myself off afterward a lot.

I didn’t realize that it was the chase that had made our sex so exciting. Knowing that I was taking another woman’s man away from her and her kids that was the high that used to get me off. But that bitch had spoiled even that for me.

Now he’s just another fat, balding, almost middle-aged man with no job and no prospects. Things went on like that for days, and since I didn’t have a job, I had to spend each day putting up with his demands.

I realized by day three that I was nothing more than a maid to him. The only difference is that I didn’t get paid, and I had to have sex with him. I started getting off by imagining killing him each time we fucked.

“That’s right bitch. I can feel that pussy getting wet.” I wrapped my arms and legs around him and came at the thought of slitting his fucking throat. He thought he was doing something, so he bragged, and I let him.

I looked for and found a job with about the same pay but more hours. That was fine; the less time I spent around him, the better. He started spending money faster than I was making it, so there was never anything left over.

Each time I brought it up, he’d remind me of what he had on me, so I’d back down. My life became a monotonous nightmare, with the same things on repeat.

He got fatter, I got fatter, but at least we had moved on from the steak and potatoes. Now, it was Rachel’s lasagna that I had to perfect. I made new friends at my new job. People who didn’t know anything about my life. I made a fresh start with a new background story.

I had no interest in anyone meeting Doug, so there was no danger of anyone learning that my stories about my handsome husband and kids were made up. And then Rachel went into labor, and all hell broke loose in my life.

RACHEL

“No!” He moved my hand off him for the second time.

“You’re rejecting me?” He looked hurt that I’d even suggest it.

“No, baby, come on, but your due date is right around the corner. The doctor’s surprised that you’ve been carrying them for this long already; I don’t want to do anything that will cause you harm.”

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