Page 28 of On the Rocks
I guess that’s what he calls raping and beating me. No, I definitely don’t want to argue any more.
He gestures for me to come to him. Caressing my lower back as I walk past and escorting me through the bedroom, down the stairs, and into the kitchen in a phony display of concern and protection.
A dark-haired woman in a flowing purple sundress stands at the stove. Skilled hands flip eggs speckled with red and green peppers, while bacon crackles and spits in a huge silver skillet. Her face lights up when she sees me.
“Good morning, ma’am! Would you like some orange juice? It’s fresh squeezed.”
She acts normal. Happy. Likewe’renormal and happy. Although all I am is relieved not to be alone with him again.
Smiling from my nod, she fills the tall glass to the rim. “Everything’s almost ready. Have a seat, and I’ll bring you your parfait.”
He gives me a little push toward the table, but luckily doesn’t follow me. Instead he slides out his buzzing phone. Engrossed with the words on his screen.
Such a big risk, I’m a fool to try. I shouldn’t ask. Shouldn’t aggravate him. Shouldn’t give him any more reason to be upset with me. But with her standing five feet away, he won’t hit me. I don’t think. “Where’s my phone? Why don’t I have it here with me?”
His gaze sweeps across the room before meeting mine again. He shrugs. Unconcerned. No loss to him. He holds out his cell. Offering me a lifeline. “Here. Use mine. Call anyone you want.”
Totally shocked, I snatch it out of his hand. My fingers trembling as I swipe the screen and tap to access the keypad. Floating over the white squares. I can’t remember any phone numbers. I can’t remember any names. Friends? Family? Co-workers? No one.
“I can even dial for you.” A sympathetic tsk I don’t believe vibrates in his mouth. Almost smirking. Reminding me he knows everything and I know...nothing. “Who do you want to call?”
Run.
I shake my head. Unwilling to let him hear my voice break. To confirm how terrified I really am. Pointless. Because he already knows.
He huffs and grabs the phone out of my grip. Impatient from having to deal with someone so obviously irrational. But at least he doesn’t attack me. Instead, just wanders into the living room typing his own message.
Good. I take a calming breath, soothing my fraught nerves. At least able to relax now that he’s no longer near me. No longer touching me.
The housekeeper drops thinly sliced mushrooms into the pan. They look good. I think I like veggie omelets. That makes sense. Maybe she knows me. I glance at his back. Still occupied with his call. Maybe she can help me escape. “Thank you for all of this.”
Pleased with my appreciation, she smiles again and turns back to her cutting board. Adding dollops of yogurt to a small dish of berries sprinkled with granola. Dread pricks my skin deeper than thousands of tiny needles.
I don’t like raspberries.
My fingers fly to my temple. Fighting through the sharp stabbing in my head. But I keep going. Keep pushing to grasp the memory sputtering in my mind. “Is this what I normally eat?”
Hesitation flickers in her eyes, and her gaze darts from me to the fruit and back again. As if I’m asking a trick question. “Ma’am?”
Panic wells up in me. She’s my only hope. She has to listen to me. “Please! I’m begging you. He’s hurting me, and I have to get out of here. I have to?”
She jerks back from my shaking hand clutching her forearm. Now fear flushes her face. “I-I don’t…”
The thick blue bowl slips from her fingers, shattering against the hard tile. Harsh reality and sticky juice splashing my trembling legs.
He jerks around from the commotion. Anger throbbing in the pulse in his neck as he rushes over. “What the hell is going on in here?”
The housekeeper points to me. Accusations making me wince. “She’s unwell, Mr. Wire. She’s acting strangely again!”
Again?
“It’s all right, Mrs. Garrison. I’ll take care of her. Why don’t you go get the rest of the groceries? You can grill salmon for dinner.”
“Yes. Thank you, sir.” She awkwardly pats my shoulder. Sympathy pulling down her lips. “It’ll be okay.”
My stomach drops even more from her pitiful tone. She’s on his side. Helping him. Believing him. A person I hoped I could count on. Maybe trust. But I'm wrong. I can only rely on myself.
Risking his wrath, I turn on him. Wild and reckless with terror. But I have to know. "What is she talking about? What does she mean again?"
