Page 13 of Fury

Ethan was out last night, but he wanted the bed free in case he decided to bring someone home. That’s the kind of man he has become. The power of control has gotten to his head, and, with it, he thrives. He knows he can do anything and I’ll say nothing. He knows that he owns me, and he knows that I won’t go against him. The idea of living the rest of my life in prison with everyone thinking I’m a murderer is something I can never live with. To me, that is a thousand times worse than this.

Picturing the look on my mother’s face if she thought I killed someone is enough to make my stomach twist.

Nobody knows the kind of man Ethan is.

To them, he is a saint, because that’s the face he shows them.

Ella’s case was ruled a suicide. Of course, we were questioned, and of course Ethan told them that the two of them had been getting close, but when she wanted him to leave me, he told her he couldn’t. He put on the best show of his life, and the cops ate it up. They never asked for our phones, it was shoved aside and never looked into again. But I know, oh, I know that if they ever got that video of me, it would change their investigation. A tip from Ethan would have them looking at me and wondering if maybe, just maybe, Ella was pushed.

Pushing off the sofa, I check the time. I start work soon, but I desperately need a run. I’ve been taking to running because it’s the one thing Ethan doesn’t stop me from doing. His words are something along the lines of Yes, you need to run. I don’t want a fat wife. Of course he doesn’t, so he allows me this little bit of freedom, and I take it. Every single morning and afternoon, I take it.

Eventually, I learned to absolutely love it.

Slowly, my body is changing, growing healthier and slightly fuller.

Returning home, I come face to face with the man I once loved so dearly. He’s standing, shirtless, and any other woman would swoon at the very sight of him. Instead, he makes every sense in my body come alive with fear and concern. I’m always on high alert when I’m around him, never knowing just what it is he’s going to do. The last few years have been hell, but somehow, my body has learned to adjust.

My mind, on the other hand ... not so much.

“Come,” he orders.

Carefully, I kick my shoes off and walk toward him.

The moment I reach him, he puts his hands on my shoulders, and even though I want to, I don’t flinch. Instead, I glance up at him, my breath stuck in my throat as I wait for what it is he’s about to deliver. Leaning down, he captures my mouth with his. Too stunned to speak, I stand there as he coaxes my lips apart with his tongue. It has been so long since he’s kissed me, so long since I’ve felt a tender touch, that my body betrays me.

I melt into him.

Not because I want to, but because I’m so desperate for any kind of comfort.

People will never truly understand the shame that comes with wanting your abuser to love you, even just for a moment.

I kiss him back, for a second letting my mind go back to us just being husband and wife in love.

Pulling away, his eyes search my face.

Of course, I should know that with the delivery of kindness will come cruelty.

“It’s time for us to have a baby.”

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving me standing there, the air trapped in my lungs, my feet unable to move.

There it is, the bombshell, the hurricane that has been brewing. A man like him doesn’t do things for kindness, they do them for a reason. They make sure that no matter what, their control remains. His words crumple up every bit of security in my body and throw it in the trash, along with every good thing I have left.

The one thing I never wanted with a man like him, is a child.

This day has been one I’ve been terrified about for the longest time.

Now, it’s here.

And I don’t know how I’m supposed to make it stop.

4

“Alexis, I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t call if I had any other options, but we don’t know how to calm her down.”

Bonnie’s frantic voice travels across the other end of the phone just as I sit down to eat. Placing my fork down, I lean forward, concern filling my voice when I ask her what’s going on. It’s a Friday night just past nine. I didn’t know who was contacting me, I rarely get calls, but the moment I heard Bonnie’s voice, I knew something must be wrong.

“We got news today that her mother is getting locked up for a long time. She’s losing it. I’ve never seen a child like this. She was crying and screaming, then she ran off into the woods and won’t come out. She’s scared, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

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