Page 29 of Conviction
“He held out his hand, and I went to him,” I continue, shuddering as I put the ice pack to my jaw. “He pulled me into his lap and told me that he loves me.” I look across at my best friend… my best friend, whom I should be able to tell everything to, but suddenly, I feel ashamed. I feel so ashamed of what my husband did to me. Ashamed that I didn’t fight harder. Ashamed that I haven’t left him sooner.
“What, Neen? What happened then?” My mouth is watering, and for a few seconds, I worry that I’m going to vomit again. I shake my head at Sophie, trying to find the words. I’m struggling to explain what happened next because, in all honesty, I have no fucking idea.
“I don’t know, Soph. I don’t understand what happened. He was fine. He was all over me. We went upstairs, and he collapsed on the bed, and I started to undress him.”
I know I’m pulling an ugly cry face as I lose control of my emotions and, to be honest, I don’t really care. “He lost it Soph, he just lost it, and he went for me.”
“I don’t understand, babe. What d’ya mean he went for you? He just hit you? What? What d’ya mean?”
“No, no, no.” I let go of a loud sob. “No, he threw me onto my back. He called me a slut and a whore. He said… he said he knew I liked it rough. He told me not to make out. He pulled my hair and squeezed my face in his hand really hard.” She’s shaking her head in disbelief as I explain what happened. “He was saying things like, ‘Is this how he fucked you,’ ‘Did your rough rock star, fuck you like this?’He was spitting and frothing at the mouth. I told him to stop. I screamed Soph. I screamed, and I cried, and I clawed, but he was too strong and I just couldn’t… I just couldn’t get away from him. I tried so hard,” my voice is high pitched as I recall the panic that I felt, the disbelief that I still feel.
Sophie has moved up the sofa and is sitting next to me, holding my hand in both of hers. She’s crying as hard as I am.
“I bit him. I bit him, Soph. I bit his shoulder.”
“Good, the fucker, I hope you bit a lump out of him. Fuck! That fucker. I’m gonna kill him when I see him. What the fuck is wrong with him? Why the…”
“That was when he punched me,” I interrupt her. “He punched me almost unconscious, and then he fucked me.”
“Oh my God, Nina. Oh my fucking God. That’s rape! He fucking raped you. Your husband that cunt you married, fucking raped you?”
“No, he didn’t, it wasn’t… We were about to have sex anyway, and he just flipped out. It’s not the same.” I know what Marcus did was wrong, but it wasn’t rape.
“Stop Nina. Stop fucking defending him,” Sophie shouts, and I flinch away from her. “I’m sorry, but just stop. Stop and think about it. He forced himself on you. You asked him to stop. You said, ‘no.’ You tried to fight him off, andhehityou, Neen. When you said ‘no,’ when you struggled and fought back, hefuckinghityouand took what he wanted. If you were a total stranger, that would be classed as rape. Why should the fact that you’re his wife make any difference?”
“Nobody’s ever hit me before,” was all that I could think of to say.
“You should go to the police.”
“What? No. No fucking way. He’ll lose his job. Get struck off, even. No.”
We sit in silence for a few minutes or seconds. It could actually be hours, I don’t really know. My thoughts are racing, and my head is pounding. I need time to process all of this. I’m not stupid. I’m fully aware of the fact that many people would be revolted by what my husband had done to me. Many wouldn’t have hesitated in running to the police, but I was pretty sure that wasn’t the path I wanted to go down.
“Will you at least do one thing, Neen?” Sophie’s voice interrupts the maelstrom of thoughts occurring inside my now wine-addled brain.
I raise my eyebrows as I ask, “What?”
“Will you let me take a couple of photos of your face?”
“Why?”
She lets out a long breath and shrugs her shoulders. “Insurance… evidence. I don’t know. What if he comes here? What if he tries something again?”
“I don’t think he will. He’s never done anything like this before. He’s never even mentioned my relationship with Conner before.”
“I wonder what triggered him to do something like that tonight then.”
“I’ve no idea.”
“Well, if you’ve no idea, how do you know it won’t happen again?”
I nod, then shake my head, feeling totally confused. “I don’t.”
“So, can I? I don’t trust him Neen, and that’s got nothing to do with me not liking him. I just don’t trust him. He’s a lawyer, he knows every trick in the book. Even if you went to the police right now, which I think is absolutely the right thing to do, by the way, even if you went to the police and accused him of rape and assault, I bet he’d know how to wriggle out of it. He’d know of some technicality that would get him off, and if he didn’t, I bet he’d have a contact or a colleague who would.”
I keep my eyes on her while I try to remain focused as the realisation of the enormity of the situation washes over me. Nodding my head, I tell her, “Take the photos. Take them on your phone and email them to me, yourself and the business email.”
My husband might generally be mild-mannered and gentle around me, but I’m fully aware of how ruthless he is in business. His law firm hadn’t expanded so rapidly since he took over because he didn’t know his shit. He knew it, and he executed his dealings with finite precision.
