Page 25 of Uncaged Obsessions

“Yes, that looks great.”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

All I want to do is scream how I really feel and I want nothing more than to scream, “No!” just for the freedom to do so. Once I’m out of here I’m going to stand in the middle of the street and scream just because I can.

Tonight’s the rehearsal dinner and there was quite the argument on whether or not we should have one this time, sincethere was one before. My mother wanted it and my father went along with it because he got to invite the business people he wants to look good for.

I’m dreading the fact that I’m going to need to be glued to Carson’s side for the entire night. His hands on me and having to pretend like I want them to be there instead of wanting to break every one of his fingers for touching me. I’m sure there will be questions about where I went and I’m going to have to force a smile and avoid answering just like everyone else has been.

Smile. Look pretty. Don’t talk.

Be Maxine Barclay.

Soon to be Maxine Bradford.

That’s what they all want, and it’s what they all expect, but that wasn’t ever going to be me.

I manage to get ready before Carson threatens to break down my door again. I descend the stairs and find that he’s in the kitchen, not even having had the chance to pour his first glass of the evening. Though, I know there will be plenty of alcohol at the rehearsal.

“Wow wifey, look at you,” he greets, his gaze lingering on my chest where the white dress hugs my curves perfectly.

I paste a fake ass smile on my face as I step closer to where he’s standing, but still making sure to maintain a significant distance.

“Are you ready for tonight?” he asks, his tone suggestive and it sends a chill down my spine. I worry that I may have been playing too nice with him.

I nod, not trusting my voice not to say something about how disgusting he is.

He closes the distance between us, and I grit my teeth, my molars aching from the force when his hand lands on my hip and I fight the urge to grab it and break all his fingers. “You’re going to be a good little wifey for me tonight and tomorrow; we’re going to get through our wedding. If you behave, then I’ll make sure to give you a reward.”

I grimace, especially when he leans closer to continue, his lips grazing the skin of my ear. “I’ll fuck you the way you like and treat you like the slut you are.”

He pulls away, smirking, and I bite my tongue, keeping my face as passive as possible instead of telling him exactly what I’m going to do if he attempts to lay even one single finger on me.

“I’m going to get changed, you want to help me?”

I put the fake smile back on. “I’ll get your drink ready instead.”

“That’s right, I keep forgetting you were a bartender back in that shit hole.” He looks pained admitting it. “Good thing you won’t have to worry about doing that again.”

Without acknowledging his insult, I go to the bar and prepare his drink. I’ve done this a handful of times over the last week, especially the past few nights. After I found the redness reducing eye drops in his bathroom while he was at work, I remembered something I’d heard on a true crime podcast.

I know that they lower your blood pressure and decrease your heart rate, so I started slipping them into his drink every opportunity I could. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have me get hima drink often enough that I’ve been able to kill him with them. I don’t know how much it would take, and maybe tonight will be my lucky night.

Emptying the bottle into the drink, I hope that this might be what tips him over the edge.

I hand him the drink once he comes back down, after changing into his suit for the night. Watching his throat bob with a large gulp of the liquid, I eye what’s left, hoping that he drinks it quickly because maybe it’ll work faster and I can avoid the rehearsal dinner altogether.

Then he says something that pulls my attention back up to him, even though I do my best not to react. “Your fan club has been pretty quiet lately. You think they’ve moved onto some other town whore?”

“Probably,” I grit out, the word tasting awful on my tongue. I know it’s not true, deep in my gut I know they aren’t giving up on me. And on the off chance that they are, I’ll turn the tables on them and show how crazy I can be right back. They unlocked something in me that I can’t come back from.

Carson pulls out his phone and then downs the rest of the contents of his glass, setting it down on an end table. “Our car is here. Behave.”

“I will,” I lie through my fucking teeth.

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