Alone (9 page)

“
It wouldn’t be a waste,” he
sighed. “Anyway, he’s not home, I promise.”

“
A neighbor might see you, and
tell Jackson.”

“
They won’t see me,
Serenity. I have a way of not being seen.”

She couldn’t argue with him, though she
knew she should question how he managed to go unnoticed. For some
reason, she couldn’t bring herself to ask the questions. Always a
coward, she didn’t question Sebastian for the same reason she put
up with how her husband treated her, because she was
scared.

Instead, she climbed out of the cab,
allowing Sebastian to pay the driver. She traversed the short
distance to her front door and fished her keys out of her pocket.
Putting the key in the lock, she turned her head, seeking out
Sebastian. To her surprise, the cab had already pulled
away.

He’d left!

Despite her request, her heart dropped
out of her stomach. Filled with disappointment, Serenity turned
back to find Sebastian standing beside her in the
doorway.

“
Jesus!” she exclaimed,
jumping. “I hate it when you do that!”

“
Sorry,” he said, though he
was smiling. “I thought you didn’t want me to be seen.”

She hissed air out between her teeth
in playful exasperation and pushed him through the open
doorway.

Her heart pounded in nervous
excitement. What was she playing at bringing another man into her
husband’s house? What the hell did she plan on doing with
him?

The thought made her cheeks flush and
she couldn’t look at him.

“
Coffee,” she offered,
trying to hide her thoughts.

He was behind her in an instant, his
arm wrapped around her waist, his face buried in her
hair.

“
Don’t pretend this is
normal,” he whispered.

She shook her head, a tiny, almost
imperceptible motion. “I don’t know what normal is any
more.”

“
You know more about life than
most women. More than you should ever have to.”

“
Not about you,” she said,
turning into him. “I know nothing about you.”

He didn’t answer. Sebastian placed his
forehead against hers and she closed her eyes, relishing every
sensation being close to him brought.

“
I can’t do anything with
you,” she told him, unable to meet his eye, self-conscious at even
the suggestion of something happening between them. “I’m
married.”

“
I’m not asking for anything
physical, Serenity. All I want is to be near you.”

They curled up on the couch together;
Serenity tucked into Sebastian’s lap, child-like, as he stroked her
hair.

At some point she slept and, not long
after, felt herself being moved, his strong arms lifting her and
carrying her to the bedroom. Serenity thought she heard him speak
to her, telling her stories of long ago, of times loved and lost.
She imagined he told her he was hundreds of years old and shied
from the light, but knew she was dreaming then.

When she woke the next morning, lying
fully clothed beneath the sheets of her bed, he was
gone.

After a quick shower and
change of clothes,
Serenity went to pick up Jackson. He sat on the edge of the bed
reading a newspaper. Her heart sank at the sight, but she’d been
lucky to have two whole nights without him. The blissful world in
which she’d been living didn’t really exist. She held no illusions
about her life and was ready to crash back down to
earth.

The doctors quickly signed Jackson out.
Serenity wondered if, unable to take his frustration out on her,
he’d been giving the nurses a hard time.

In the cab on the ride home, Serenity
sat beside her husband, sick with sorrow. It felt wrong being in
the same space as Jackson when she only wanted to be with
Sebastian, but she was horribly scared and she didn’t possess the
courage to leave.

Her eyes burned hot and dry, a lake of
tears flowing behind them.

As they approached the duplex, Serenity
saw she’d left the bedroom window open. Immediately, her heart
raced. Was Sebastian there now, waiting for her? What would Jackson
say? Even if he wasn’t, would Jackson realize another man had been
in their bedroom? Would he sense, or smell, Sebastian on the
air?

Her cheeks flushed with guilt. At the
front door, her hands shook and she missed the lock. Jackson gave
her a quizzical look and took the key from her. He opened the door,
pushing the morning’s mail aside with his foot.

Serenity stepped into the house and
pushed the door shut behind her. She bent to pick up the mail and
threw the letters onto the small pile accumulating on the hall
table.

“
Make me some juice,” Jackson
ordered, “and a sandwich or something.”

“
Okay, honey. I won’t be a
minute.”

“
Bring it up to me in bed.
I’m going to lie down.”

Why was she so powerless with him? However
much she wanted to tell him to get it himself, the Stepford wife
answer tripped from her lips; like he’d programmed her to do
whatever he wanted.

That’s what years of beatings
and mental torture does to you,
the little voice in her head told her.
Serenity wished she could figure out a way to break her
training.

You have to leave him,
she told herself
once again.

Before meeting Sebastian, she
hadn’t realized how terrible her relationship was.
The beatings and the
verbal abuse had become commonplace and Serenity hadn’t been able
to imagine a relationship without the violence. She’d almost come
to think the way he treated her was the norm. If she ever left
Jackson and ended up with someone else the relationship would be
the same. Sebastian had opened her eyes and made Serenity realize
someone could care about her without exerting physical force. She
had to leave, she just didn’t know how or when to go.

Jackson spent the rest of the day ordering
Serenity around and taking naps. As the day wore on, her resolve
dwindled. She was crazy to think of leaving him. Nevertheless, she
kept running through the possibility in her mind.

They had at least three thousand dollars
in their joint account, maybe even a little more. Any other money
they had saved, which wasn’t a lot, had been invested in shares,
and she wouldn’t be able to touch the money without Jackson’s
signature.

You could always forge his
signature?
the little voice piped up.

There were too many risks. What if the
stockbrokers called Jackson to do extra security checks? Then he
would figure out her escape plan and he would make her pay. The
thought of him finding out made her sick to her stomach. He’d be so
furious, he would kill her.

What about their joint account? Three
thousand dollars wasn’t a huge amount of money, but was enough to
get her started somewhere a long way from Jackson. If she went into
the bank and asked to withdraw a big chunk of money, would they ask
for Jackson’s signature as well? Her card had a daily withdrawal
limit of three hundred dollars. It wouldn’t get her far and Jackson
practically lived on his computer, especially on the Internet
banking to watch the account. He knew exactly what she spent and
when. He quizzed her on their need for each item after she went
grocery shopping and, if she dared take ten dollars cash out of the
account, he would make her break down how every last cent had been
spent.

On more than one occasion, she
had almost pointed out that
she
was the one who earned the money but if she’d ever allowed
the words to leave her mouth, she probably would have ended up with
a few less teeth.

Abandoning her marriage
was a much more
complicated endeavor than simply packing her bags.

Serenity cooked her husband
a
chicken
dinner while he lay in bed, watching sports on the small
television. He’d been complaining about the pain in his back, but
Serenity struggled to conjure up any sympathy. Her own back
throbbed with a dull ache, and though she had managed to ignore the
pain for the majority of the day, spending the past few hours
racing up and down the stairs, attending to Jackson’s demands, had
left her feeling like someone had slammed a brick into her
spine.

Serenity put the plate of chicken and
potatoes onto a tray and added cutlery and a small salt and pepper
shaker. She braced herself as she picked up the tray and carefully
made her way back up the stairs.

Jackson’s voice boomed from the bedroom
and she flinched at the sound.

“
Come on, ref! You’ve got to be
joking!” he shouted at the television.

She walked into the room and set the
tray down on his lap. He craned around her, acknowledging her
arrival by striving to ignore her further.

Only when she stood back up did he
look at the tray.

“
You gave me fucking carrots? You
know I hate carrots! And where’s my beer?” he demanded.

“
I just thought…with your
pain meds… you might not be ...”

“
Since when have you needed
to think?” he sniped.

“
I’m sorry, I’ll just ...” She
reached down to take the tray away at the same time Jackson reached
for the fork. His arm hit her hand and the tray tipped, spilling
hot gravy and chicken all over the bed.

She stared at the mess in horror,
unable to move. Both of them paused, each waiting for the other to
react. Serenity didn’t even dare to breathe.

Jackson didn’t look up. He spread his
hands out above the mess on the duvet. “You stupid, little, bitch,”
he said slowly. “Can’t you do anything right?”

“
I’m so sorry, Jackson,” she said
in a rush. “I’ll clean it up.”

She moved forward and bent over the spilt
tray, picking bits of chicken and potatoes from the sheets. She was
intensely conscious of him poised above her, even though he sat in
bed. Anger radiated from him, a low hum of nearly audible violence.
If he wasn’t in bed, injured, Jackson would have thrown her across
the room by now. He wouldn’t let this one go. Whether he got her
for it now or later, she would be punished.

Serenity didn’t wait long.

One of Jackson’s large hands grabbed
the back of her head. Like he was trying to drown her in the bath
instead of a bed full of gravy, he shoved her face down into the
spilt meal.

She couldn’t breathe! Hot food
scalded her face;
forehead, cheeks and the end of her nose pressed into the
hot gravy. She could feel her flesh reddening and still he kept
pushing, mashing her face against the covers. The taste of chicken
and gravy lodged in the back of her throat and she gagged, making
her gulps for air even worse.

Desperately, Serenity tried to pull away
but Jackson pushed her face down harder into the gravy.

“
Does it taste good?” he
spat, punctuating his words with an extra shove. “Huh, you stupid
little bitch?”

Another shove.

She pushed back up with her hands and
he gave her enough space to let her take one frantic gasp of air,
before pushing her back down.

Serenity managed to turn her head to one
side, gulping much needed oxygen, her eyes squeezed shut against
the hot food. Gravy stuck her eyelashes together and matted her
hair. Jackson’s initial rage had subsided; he’d had his
fun.

He laughed cruelly, and took his hand off
the back of her head. Serenity lay across his lap, humiliated;
exactly what he wanted.

“
This isn’t time for a rest, you
dumb bitch,” he said. “You owe me a meal.”

Serenity held back the tears until she
made it out of the bedroom, then she stumbled down the stairs with
tears pouring down her face. They were tears of rage and
frustration. Her hands shook so badly she thought she might drop
the tray on the floor this time.

I hate him. I hate
him!

Somehow, after all the beatings,
bruises, and pissing blood, having her face rubbed in her husband’s
chicken and potatoes had done something
to her resolve. Finally, she decided
to leave.

Back down in the kitchen, Serenity dished
more food onto a clean plate. It was the meal she planned to eat,
but she didn’t care. Deep in the pit of her stomach, a spark fired.
Excitement, nervousness and fear completely sapped what little
appetite she had left.

Serenity
no longer cared about the
practicalities; she would live on the street if that’s what it
took. If she was treated like a dog in her own home, then she would
roam the street like one.

Chapter Eight

Night had fallen once
more.

Sebastian paced around his house, for
that was all the building meant to him—a house, not a
home.

A home should be filled with love and
family and memories. This place contained none of those things. No
family photographs filled the walls, no pets welcomed him home, and
children’s laughter hadn’t been heard within the walls since
Sebastian moved in.