Determined To Live (21 page)

I've made the
decision that - no matter what - I've got to heal. The pain he's
given me is too much and any more might just kill me. I haven't lost
all my will to live just yet. Give it time, I suppose. But not just
yet.

Jake wraps his arms
around my waist and pulls me to him. At first I stay stiff until I
remember I that I want to heal.
Whatever
Jake wants, he can have if it means he won't take me to the edge of
death like he did last night. Over-dramatic? Maybe. Maybe not.

So I bring my arms
up and around his neck. He leans in to kiss me and I squeeze my eyes
shut tight, let him kiss me, and then step away as fast as I can
without pissing him off, using needing to check on the food as my
excuse. His entire body is warmer than it should be and I debate
whether to say something or not. But I'm sure he knows and I'd rather
not encourage him to medicate and get better.

He follows me to
the stove and when I bend over, his hand attaches to my ass. I close
my eyes and tell myself to breathe and let it go. Unable to stand it
anymore, I straighten and move toward the sink.

"Why don't you
go sit on the sofa and relax for a bit? The food should be done
soon." Relieved when he agrees and disappears, I go back to the
oven and check the food again, as I didn't actually see it before.

When it's all
ready, I take the plates into the living room and hand Jake his. I
sit at the other end of the sofa and Jake tells me between bites what
he had been up to.

"I went down
and got all the guns and ammo. I stored them in a room closer to the
truck. Eventually, I'm going to load the truck with them, drive to
the other building, and get another Hummer. This one's about
shot...literally."

I nod my head and
continue eating, although the food tastes like it's been seasoned
with sawdust. All I can think about is Jake with a massive amount of
weapons and my family being murdered with those same weapons.

"Jake, don't
you think we should leave here? Find somewhere better?" I ask
him.

He stares at me for
several moments, and I finally notice the look in his eyes.
Oh,
no!
I've
done it again.

I rush to try to
divert his anger before it has time to boil over. "I mean, I'm
sure you know what you're doing. I'm―"

His hand is
lightning-fast when it slams into the side of my head. My plate flies
out of my hands and crashes to the floor in a mixed mess of food and
glass. I throw my hands up to cover my face and head, but nothing
more happens, I slowly lower them and look over at Jake.

He's shoveling food
in his mouth as if nothing happened! Without looking at me, he says,
"Better get that cleaned up."

I stare at him for
a few seconds before I remember how to function again, then struggle
to stand. I get the mess cleaned up and then try to stay busy in the
kitchen. But there's only so much cleaning a person can do in an
already clean room.
Obviously
whatever is wrong with him isn't affecting his strength any.

When I go back into
the main room, Jake is at the desk, the laptop open in front of him.
My eyes widen, afraid he might somehow figure out I'd been messing
with it. But he ignores me and I prefer it that way. I move as
quietly as I can to the sofa and sit, doing what I can to avoid
looking at him.

Several minutes
pass and when he finally speaks, it startles me. I jump and jerk my
eyes in his direction.

"Wanna see our
home. Come look." I hop over and stand beside his chair. When I
look at the screen, I see a home high in the mountains. Which
mountains, I have no idea.

I don't want to
go to any mountains. I don't want to go anywhere with this man. I
don't want to be
here
with this man.

I open my mouth to
ask what if someone is already living there, but shut it quick.
I
think we all know when Jake wants something, Jake gets it.
Human life means nothing to
him.

"Damn it! Are
you going to tell me what you think?" he growls at me.

"I think it's
great, Jake. I trust you to know what's best for us." I tell him
as meekly as I can. Apparently, I went a little too far, if his punch
to my side and his shout of, "You're a damn liar! You hate it
and you don't trust me a damn bit. But you
will
.
You will learn to trust me," is anything to go by. I back up
against the wall, my hand pressed to my side, gasping for air. The
pain has my eyes tearing up and my one good leg weak as hell.

I'm never going
to heal at this rate. Never.

The rest of the day
went about the same way. I would do or say something -
anything
,
it seems - that pisses him off and I'd be punished. By the end of the
evening, my body screams in pain. When he gives me permission to take
a bath, I do so willingly - anything to ease the pain, even just a
little. He runs the water again, helps me undress and wrap my cast,
then helps me inside. Gentle and sweet as ever.

That's the worst
part. The change from the old Jake to the new Jake can happen with no
warning.

And everyone
thought
my
mental issue was bad. Hell, bipolar is nothing compared to whatever
the hell is wrong with his head.

He leaves the room
once I'm settled, so I take advantage of the time to relax and soak
my damaged body. Eventually -
too
soon for me
- he comes back
in with a large towel and helps me out. Once he dries me and removes
the plastic from my cast, he helps me into the other room where I
again see the bed pulled out and waiting.

Not wanting a
repeat of last night, I get under the blankets and do my best to
pretend I'm asleep by the time he finishes his shower and climbs in
bed behind me.
But what Jake
wants, Jake gets.
Don't
forget that...because I did.

Once he's finally
done and rolls off me, I turn back on my side. I don't move and
barely breathe until I hear him snore and moan a time or two in his
sleep. I allow myself a few tears to fall when the pain of missing
Will, my boys, and my other family overtakes me. But then I push it
all away.

I love them. I
love them more than anything and if this is what I have to do - to
feel - to protect them, I'll do it. I'll do this and more for my
family.

I
finally fall asleep, but jerk away several times throughout the
night.
I never find
out what wakes me. Maybe Jake moved or an undead got a little loud
outside. Maybe it was the living screaming for their lives. Maybe it
was the wind or even a damn mouse. Or maybe it was just me.

Who knows? But I
damn sure don't feel like I've gotten any sleep.

I must have gotten
some though, at least toward the morning, because Jake wakes me ready
for sex once again. I'm so tired that I just lay there, almost
asleep, and holy shit does that piss Jake off! By the time he's done
with me, I'm no longer tired, but almost beaten into unconsciousness.

Fortunately, he
finally leaves me and goes into the bathroom. I can't move - can
barely see. When he comes back out fully dressed and informs me he'll
be back later, I close my eyes and say nothing. I feel the blanket as
he covers me and then his lips when he kisses my own swollen and
bleeding lips. I hear the door shut and then I allow myself to slip
into the darkness.

*****

Sometime later, I
slowly climb through the darkness and open my eyes. Or try to. I can
only open them enough for tiny slivers of light to come through. I
try out both arms and legs to see if they work and they do...barely.
It seems like a half hour or more before I am able to just sit up,
and even longer to make it out of bed and to the bathroom. I run the
hottest water I can stand and get inside the tub. Not easy by myself,
but I'm determined. I don't even take the time to wrap my cast, but
just prop it on the side of the tub.

I lay back and hiss
when my bruised, torn and bloody back connects with the hard
porcelain. Each time, I hiss in pain when the hot water soaks into an
open wound or slaps against a bruise. My hair is soaked with blood
and it's pure torture to get it clean. I have to drain and refill the
tub several times. Thank god they have a large hot water tank here.
Finally the water runs clear but I don't get out. I lay back and let
my aching muscles soak.

When
I do get out, it's a pretty terrifying event.
Don't
get the cast wet. Don't get the cast wet. Ah, damn!
I
got the cast wet.
Ok.
Its not too bad. Now how the hell do I step out with only one foot?
Well, how the hell did you get in? Oh yeah, sit on the side and spin
around. Got it! Dry off the hair - Oh god! The pain! The pain! Dry
off the body - holy shit! I'm gonna piss myself! Dry off the cast.

I
end my self-talk when I wrap the towel loosely around my body -
loosely, because
I...freakin'...hurt
!
I hop carefully to the sink and attempt to brush my hair. It's a mess
and I'm determined to get the damn tangles out, pain, tears, and
screams be damned! Once I'm done torturing myself, I hop right
through the main room and kitchen to the room with all the clothes. I
grab a pair of fatigue bottoms and another extra-large mens t-shirt
and make my unsteady way back to the sofa. Finally, I collapse
heavily on the cushioned seat and immediately scream in pain.

Easy, bitch!

Slow and gentle
next time...damn!

When
the spots in my eyes dissipate, I remember I have to cut the pants
first, but I'm too damn sore and tired to deal with it -
and
what the hell can I use to cut it anyway
- so t-shirt only once again.
I wonder if I can talk Jake into getting me some underwear, bras -
and if he plans to keep on beating me - maybe some sweats?
Fear makes my stomach do a few flips when I think of the pain my
request will most likely bring me. I decide underwear isn't all that
worth it.

I
hop back into the bathroom and use my towel to clean up the water I'd
gotten all over the floor then throw it in the basket under the sink.
Back in the main room, I notice the laptop is still sitting on the
desk. I open it up but he's put a password on it, so I shut it back
the way it was. Then I go into the kitchen and make an egg and cheese
sandwich for myself and lay out a steak for Jake's lunch.

Why
do I cook for him? What if I
don't
?
What then? It's not
your
ass he's beating the hell out of.

I
wash a few potatoes, then poke them with a fork and set them in the
microwave to have with his steak, before I go back to the living room
and
ease
myself onto the sofa.

If
it's crossed your mind why I don't just poison his food...hello! He's
left nothing for me to use. Not even laundry detergent. I could put
soap, shampoo, or conditioner in - but what's that going to do but
make him burp bubbles and really piss him off?

My
eyes keep wanting to close so I lay down and let myself take a nap -
and am woken with a slap to the face. A
hard
slap to the face.

I gasp and throw my
hands up to cover my stinging cheek. I look up and see Jake grinning
down at me.

"Get your ass
up. I'm hungry." And then he walks away to the desk.

My body is shaking
from the violent way he woke me, and I'm disoriented as hell. But I
make it up and to the kitchen. When I see the steak sitting on the
counter, I remember what I'm supposed to do. The steak is very close
to being thawed so I must have been out quite awhile. While the steak
is slowly frying, I start the potatoes and dump a can of corn in a
small pot. Once it's on the stove and heating up, I glance out the
window and notice the sky is darkening.

What the hell
time is it anyway?

I
remember the stove has a clock and glance over at it.
Two
in the afternoon! Why is it so dark?

Then a flash of
light followed by a body-shaking boom of thunder answers my question.
Soon after, drops of water hit against the window - increasing in
speed, noise, and power over a short amount of time.

When Jake's food is
finished; I take sour cream, bacon bits, butter, salt, pepper, and
shredded cheese in and set it out of his way on the desk, hoping I
got everything he might want and giving him one less reason to get
pissed.