Page 6 of Dollhouse

They fight, and my husband suffers the consequences of it. Despite being well educated and having achieved so much in his life, none of Sebastian’s accomplishments are good enough for his father. He’s the best doctor in the state, and still can’t please his father.

While they are arguing and then making up over a game of football on TV, I slip into the kitchen to help Lucille clean up the dinner mess.

We take care of it in silence, but I feel her judgmental eyes steal glances at me and her huffs of annoyance.

Lucilla is the first to break our silence. “Don’t upset him when you two get home tonight, he’s always on edge.”

My eyes snap to hers, and my brows pull together in a frown. “He’s upset because of Nate. We were fine before we arrived.”Lie. He’s never fine. “We’re the same, Lucille, and it’s sad that you can’t see that. We’re both trapped in abusive marriages. Except, you encourage your son to act the way he does.” Suddenly I have a loose tongue. I’ve never spoken to her so freely before.

"Excuse me?"she snaps. “Listen, little girl, my marriage is fine and is none of your damn business. You and you alone are the reason that my Sebby is so angry all the time, and if you tried to make his life easier, you wouldn’t have to suffer the consequences.” Right. Her precious son being an abusive dick is all my fault.

I scoff. "I know you don't like me, but don't assume his attitude is always my problem. His behavior issues come from you." I narrow my eyes, giving her a deadly glare. Silently patting myself on the back, I take a step closer to Lucille, grip her wrist, and yank up her sleeve to reveal the purple and black bruise on her forearm.

“We’re the same, Lucille. This isn’t on me.” She pulls away from me, her blue eyes looking over my shoulder as a slow smirk forms on her overly injected lips.

This is not good. My stomach drops at the sight of her smirk.

I don’t have to turn around to know that Sebastian’s standing right behind me.

Fuck.

I'll be in for it when we get home.

"Great job today, everyone!" Delilah claps her hands, praising our students for our final class of the week. I've been missing more and more classes lately, and the classes I do attend are beginning to take a toll on my aching body. I'm exhausted all the time because I don't sleep at night anymore. I'm so afraid to sleep during the night ever since the huge fight we had the night we returned home from dinner at Sebastian’s parents’ house.

Sebastian didn’t touch me when we got home like I expected him to. Instead, he waited until I was sound asleep in our bed. I should’ve slept with one eye open, but I was too exhausted. The smell of lighter fluid is what awoke me. My pajamas were damp with the liquid, and Sebastian sat stoic at the edge of the bed flipping a zappo.

That was two weeks ago, and I’ve been terrified to sleep since then. Afraid that he will fulfill his promise of lighting my ass on fire.

Lucille convinced him that I’m a liability, that I’m going to leave him and ruin his reputation with accusations of being abused. He's been so paranoid that he's watching my every move and calling me every second that he's not in surgery, which has been a lot lately.

After the last of the students clear out of our classroom, I close the door and take Delilah by the arm, dragging her toward my desk in the corner of the studio, maybe a little too roughly.

"Did you mean it when you said I could talk to you about anything?" It's been a few weeks since that day at the nail salon when I lost myself in memories, and she had noticed that. We haven't been out together since that day because Sebastian wouldn't allow it. He doesn’t like for me to have friends, and I know it's because he fears that I would either tell someone about the abuse or that someone would see the bruises that permanently decorate my body. Little does he know, Delilah has already seen the bruises he's left behind many times.

"Yes, of course. Are you okay?" Her eyes shine with kindness, and I know I can trust her. She's my only friend, the only one that I have to trust. "God, Lee, you're scaring me. What's going on? Is it about Seb?"Yes. Everything’s about him. Always.

My body still aches from last night's beating. I don't remember what caused our fight, but we'd gotten into an argument, and well, now I have a black eye that, thankfully, the concealer is covering along with a split lip. I needed to get away from him, so I went to work today, lying to everyone who asked what happened to my face. They didn't need to know that my husband used me as a punching bag. Delilah was the only one who had seen past my lies and knew the real source of my injuries.

"Listen, you can't say or do anything, not yet." I inhale, taking a large sealed manila envelope from my purse and handing it to her. "Don't open it, don't tell anyone you have it, don't do anything." She takes the folder from my hands shakily, looking at me with wide, fearful eyes.

"What's in there, Lee? What's going on?"

"If anything happens to me, I need you to give this to the police."

"What! What's going to happen to you? Are you in danger? Do we need to go to the police right now?" Too many questions, but sadly, I can’t answer either of them.

"No, I can't. But please promise me that you'll take this to the police if anything happens to me."

"Like what, Lee?" I sigh, collapsing down into my seat.

"If I disappear"—her eyes widen—"or if I turn up missing or dead, you must take this to the police. Don't ask questions, just promise me." I straighten up with a frown, wiping the tears away from her face that streams down her cheeks. She wraps her arms around me and hugs me tightly, and even though the bruises hurt, I squeeze her gently.This might be our last hug, who knows.

"I promise, Lee. Please, let me help you if you're in danger."

"You can't help me. Thank you for being a great friend."

The words that tumble out of my mouth are true. No one can help me or save me from that monster. Only I can help myself, and that's what I'm doing.

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