Page 2 of Alive and Wells

Cecily:Is that job still available?

Time ticks on, and I wonder if I waited too long. It’s nearly one in the morning, after all. KJ foundJohn Wickon cable, which ruined my routine. Rather than falling asleep before the nine o’clock news, he drank four whiskey neats and stayed awake until midnight. When I half-heartedly suggested he get some sleep, he accused me of trying to force him to bed so I could sneak around behind his back. Like a whore.

He’s not entirely wrong. For six months, I’ve been secretly talking to a woman named Beryl. We met on a forum I definitely shouldn’t be on. I can’t bear to imagine what might happen if KJ ever finds out. A support group for women in abusive relationships; I honestly don’t belong there, though.

KJ doesn’t hit me like the spouses of the women in that group do. He calls me names when he’s angry, but he doesn’t hit me. He screams in my face, but he doesn’t hit me. He smashes wine glasses, plates, and the drywall directly next to my head, but he doesn’t hit me. And maybe he’s threatened it a few times or grabbed me with enough force to leave a mark, but he still hasn’tactuallyhit me.

I’ve been daydreaming about murdering my husband for days—surely that makes me the violent one. Right?

(555) 276-9899:It’s yours whenever you’re ready, honey.

Cecily:OK. Thanks.

(555) 276-9899:Are you ready?

Cecily:I mean, I was planning how I’d kill him today. I should probably leave, shouldn’t I?

(555) 276-9899:You say the word and you’ll have help. You’re a strong woman and you can do this, Cecily.

Heavy footsteps move toward the bathroom, and my fingers tap hard on the screen.Delete, delete, fucking delete.The text thread disappears in an instant, without a moment to spare. As the doorknob turns, I silently pray Beryl doesn’t text me again. She doesn’t message unless I’ve reached out first but, given we’re in the middle of a conversation, I can’t be certain she won’t send another reply.

With any luck.

“The fuck are you doing?” KJ blinks rapidly, adjusting to the bright bathroom lights.

“Period cramps. I couldn’t sleep.” I clutch my stomach for believability. We rarely have sex, and he’s definitely not interested in my bathroom habits. Despite being married, I doubt he has any idea when my cycle should be. Hell, I have an IUD and can’t remember the last time I had a real period, but he doesn’t even know I’m on birth control.

His dark eyes cut to the phone sitting on the tile next to me. In a flash, he moves to grab it. “Oh yeah? So the fuck is your phone doing here with you? I knew you’d been sneaking around behind my back. Do you think I’m a moron or are you such a whore you don’t care about getting caught? Inmy fucking house, too!” His words cover my face in spit as he crouches down, clenching my phone tight in his fist.

I struggle to breathe, waiting for his next move. His eyes bore into me from mere inches away. Pupils blown out with rage. Hot, stale whiskey breath hits me as he grows impatient, waiting for an answer. I have no idea how to respond. It doesn’t seem wise to say, “I’m leaving before I end up murdering you in your sleep.”Telling him I’ve been cheating might actually go over better than the truth. Maybe then he’d throw me out.

My bottom lip trembles out of control, and he grins maniacally at my fear.

“Nothing to say then? Nothing to say because it’s fucking true,” he scoffs. The phone screen fractures as his fingers tighten, sending out spiderwebbing cracks at every angle. “Good luck talking to your boyfriend now, whore.”

I wince. It’s not the first time he’s broken my phone. He’ll have a brand new one delivered to the house tomorrow, likely alongside another nice apology gift. It’s just a shame because, for the first time in a long time, I thought I might actually leave. Or, at least, I thought I would try. Not that my attempts have worked in the past.

Without the ability to contact Beryl, I have no way of getting directions to where she lives. Like it or not, I’m imprisoned for at least another twenty-four hours.

His face draws even closer. Close enough to kiss—not that we would. In fact, the thought of his lips on mine makes me want to vomit directly into his mouth. “Say something,bitch.”

I scramble on the slick tile, trying to get to my feet. Desperate to put some distance between us. As much as he’s trying to get me to defend myself, I know it’s stupid to open my mouth. It’s asking for a fight, and I don’t want to fight with him tonight. Not when we were having a good night.Good-ish, anyway.

A sharp pain radiates from my shoulder as his open palm blows against it, knocking me from my squatted position flat onto my ass.

Did he just?I think he just hit me.

No, that’s not fair. It was a light push, if anything.

A second blow confirms my fear.

He hit me.He finally did it—he hit me.

He screams directly into my gaping mouth, “Say something!”

I can’t help the tears welling. Even though I despise how weak their presence makes me feel.

“I’m done,” I whisper. It’s a small miracle I’m able to hear myself over the raucous ringing in my skull.

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