The Banishing (12 page)

Melissa’s face crumpled, and she felt tears slide along her face.
No
, she thought,
this wasn’t good
.
This would make it worse
. She couldn’t stop the tears from coming.

“We never fuck,” he continued, his body looming over her. His tall, broad frame blocked her way from getting out of the room.

“We don’t
fuck,
” Melissa snarled, her mouth turning downward into a grimace. “You just
rape
me. Isn’t that how it goes, now?”

Mark’s face tensed, and his jaw clenched. “Rape?”

Melissa nodded, swallowing hard. She felt sick.

“You call what happened the other night rape, do you?”

“What would
you
call it?” she said, suddenly remembering Josh’s words.
Call the police if it gets bad. I can’t do anything
, she thought, stuck between Mark and the sofa.
I’m in his hands now
, she thought bitterly. She had no power to do anything; not yet, anyway.

“What happened the other night was simply what I was owed. You were giving me what I deserved, because you lied to me. Remember that? You had to make things up to me. That’s the way I see it.”

Melissa swiped angrily at her tears, annoyed at how stupid they made her look. Mark was already enjoying his power over her. Her tears only served to reinforce his idea that she was under his control. Even if she
was
, it wasn’t something she enjoyed advertising.

This is Mark
, she thought, staring into eyes she no longer recognized.
This is the man I love, the man I’m married to. He is still in there, somewhere.
She took a deep breath, then said, “Mark, you know something is very wrong here, don’t you?”

You need to tell him,
Josh had said.
Confront him.

Mark smirked, a half-smile on his face. His once beautiful, handsome face was contorted by the rage that lurked beneath his skin. “Yeah, I know something is wrong. My bitch of a wife is making my life difficult, yet again.”

Deep breath
, Melissa thought. Stay calm. Keep going. Just like Josh said: confront him. “Do you realize how much you’ve changed?” she continued. “That since we moved here, things have been getting progressively worse? You’ve just been getting angrier and angrier. That’s not you, Mark.”

“I’m too tired for this,” Mark sighed, turning away.

Melissa was shocked. She’d expected him to shout, to swear. More than anything, she was waiting for him to lash out, but to turn away, as if the truth of her words had hit something inside of him—that felt too good to be true. Suddenly, feeling as if she was onto something, she quickly followed him into the kitchen. “Mark, listen, please. You know what I’m saying is true, don’t you? Don’t you remember how happy we were when we got together, and how happy we were to move into this house? Why isn’t it like that, now? Something’s gone wrong.”

Mark seemed to be ignoring her now. He padded over to the fridge, peering in. He rifled through the shelves, looking for something to eat. He reached for something, then turned, slamming the door, a beer in his hand. He pulled back the lid and gulped from the can. Melissa stood in the kitchen, watching as his throat bobbed, the cool liquid slipping down his throat.

His unresponsiveness agitated her. Outside, rain pelted angrily against the windows, noisy in the quiet of the room.

“Please talk to me, Mark.
Please
. I’m scared of losing you. You’re already so far away.”

Mark set the can of beer onto the kitchen sideboard and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re talking bollocks, Mel. I’m going upstairs for a bath. I’ve had enough of this shit.”

“You’ve been hitting me. Hurting me. That’s not you!” She crossed the room to where he stood, feeling braver now, stronger. “Can’t we just try and get some help? I know we can sort this out, together.”

“You mean a counselor?” Mark snarled.

“A counselor. A psychiatrist. Somebody. Anybody! I don’t care who…but why not?”

“I don’t need to talk to anybody. I’m going upstairs.”

He started to walk away, but in her desperation, in her determination to make him see, Melissa pulled at his arm, almost falling as she stumbled after him.

Mark spun around, jerking her hand off of him. “Get the hell away from me. You’re the fucking crazy one around here. I need to see a shrink? What about you? You’re the one seeing fucking ghosts. You’re out of your head. I married a wacko.”

Melissa shook her head, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “I think you know you need help. That‘s why you’re upset, isn‘t it?”

Something changed in Mark. The room suddenly seemed alive with electricity, something sparked to life…as if Mark’s feelings were becoming one with the air between them. The room seemed to pulse with darkness, and shadows suddenly appeared out of nowhere, dressing the air around them. He pushed Melissa with a hard, forceful shove, and she fell back against the kitchen cabinet, hurting her back against the stub of a drawer knob. Mark, his face twisted, his eyes like empty black holes, nudged her aside and slid open the drawer, pulling out a large knife. It glinted in his hands.

“
What are you doing
?” Melissa shouted, surprised at her own voice. She barely recognized the panic and despair coming from within her.

Mark said nothing as he pressed Melissa against the wall. He was smiling. Pleased. His body felt hot, and he smelled of sweat. He lifted the knife to her milky throat and pressed it to her skin. She felt the tiny prick of the blade against her neck and winced, trying to wriggle free of his grasp.

“I wouldn’t move too much if I were you,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I wouldn’t want this knife to slip, not while you’re in such a compromising position.”

Melissa thought she was going to be sick. Her stomach contracted, the pizza she ate for lunch rising like acidic bile from her stomach, and she gagged.

“If you get sick, you’re cleaning it up,” he snarled, his face so close to hers that their lips were brushing against each other.

“Let me go,” she said, her voice shaky and unsteady.
He’s going to kill me,
she kept thinking.
This is it. He is going to kill me.

Melissa shut her eyes, clamping them tightly. She was afraid to look into Mark’s face, afraid to see what he was going to do.

She felt the cold blade travel lower, across her neck, down past her breasts, then press along her stomach and lower abdomen. Here, Mark hesitated, then pressed the blade slightly into her skin. She didn’t know whether he had punctured the skin, but she felt a stinging sensation where the knife was poised. “Please,” she whimpered.

She suddenly felt her bladder go, her liquid spreading with warmth between her legs.

Mark pulled back, and she finally opened her eyes. He was staring at the dark patch between her legs. “For fuck’s sake, you’re a mess,” he said, looking her up and down. “You’ve pissed yourself. Only babies piss themselves, Mel. Get upstairs and clean yourself. You’re disgusting.”

Relieved that he had placed the knife back into the kitchen sink, Melissa turned and rushed upstairs to the bedroom. She didn’t stop to turn back, even when she heard Mark talking to something she couldn’t see in the kitchen where he was still standing.

Chapter Fifteen

She wasn’t hurt, not badly. A tiny dot of blood, just above her abdomen, had spread across her skin and made it look worse than it actually was. In truth, it was a small cut, but it was enough for her to know that Mark was beyond help. Or that
she
was beyond being able to help him. He had gone too far this time. For one terrifying second back there in the kitchen, Melissa was sure he was going to stab her. It could have been enough to end her life.

What was the darkness about? When Mark changed, the room seemed to change with him, as if something in the house was reinforcing his mood, his behavior.

Enough was enough. She had to get out, for her own safety. What had just passed between them was a massive wake-up call; Mark was out of control. She wiped at the blood with a tissue, smearing the congealing liquid across her stomach. She dabbed it away, wincing at the sting. The cut was not deep, not enough that she’d have to get medical help. She decided to clean it and just cover it with a dressing from the first aid kit later.

She patted the broken skin dry with the bath towel, her hands shaking, then lowered her top. She then turned to her jeans. The damp patch had spread, and it had already begun to dry.

The smell of her own piss sickened and embarrassed her. She’d heard of people losing control of their bowels in frightening situations but never thought she might have it happen to her, especially from the man she married.

There it was. It happened, and Mark called her disgusting because of it.

The bastard.

She tugged at the zipper of the jeans and let them fall to the floor. She stepped out of them and threw them into the hamper. With hands that were still unsteady, she stepped out of her knickers and threw them there, too.

Suddenly, Melissa fell to the floor, and curled there on her hands and knees, sobbing. Guttural, heaving cries of pain and heartbreak tore through her body, and she could barely catch her breath.

Mark might hear,
her thoughts kept scolding her.
He might come up and do more, do worse,
but the inner voice that warned her was not enough to reign in the swell of emotion rising inside of her.

It came out. Floods of tears fell from her eyes, her stomach heaving with every sob. She tried to take a deep breath, which she was finding difficult, but the emotions were puncturing every effort she made to calm herself.

Curled there naked on the floor, Melissa knew she couldn’t cope, anymore. The very idea that her marriage might be dead—might have actually expired that very night with the piercing of her skin—was too painful to comprehend, and she tried to avoid delving further into the thought. She needed to get up, to get her head straight.

Had to get through the night.

Tomorrow, she would pack her things and get out.

Just go. Leave him.

Somehow.

Melissa wiped away her tears, pulled herself to her knees, and took a deep breath. Slowly, she stood up and headed for the bedroom, where she pulled on a fresh pair of knickers and her pink pajamas.

From downstairs came the faint sound of the TV from the lounge, and she could hear Mark chuckling at something he must’ve found amusing on the show he was watching.

Her face started to crumple again with emotion, but she denied herself more tears, shaking the feelings away.

Just get through tonight. Phone Sharon tomorrow. Maybe I can stay at her place while I sort things out.
The voice from within spoke with such clarity and confidence, she barely recognized the thoughts as her own, but she knew it was her mind, guiding her, even at a time when she felt too frightened to do anything. Instinctually, she knew. The voice inside was pure biology, pure drive to survive. Nature’s instinct.

With Mark downstairs, Melissa snapped off the bedroom light and pulled herself under the bed covers. She couldn’t go back down there. She simply couldn’t face him.
Just get through tonight,
the thought pressed. Survive.

She sunk into the warm fullness of the bed and pulled the cover up to her chin. She could still feel her body shaking from Mark’s attack, from his threats, and she closed her eyes, taking deep, steady breaths and trying to mentally calm herself. After a few moments, the shaking subsided.

She turned onto her side. Rain still tapped gently at the glass, the sound a comforting rhythm. She wished, in that moment, that she was out there, alone in the dark, in the rain, free of the chains she felt surrounded by.

Even being alone would be better than this
, she thought.

Melissa’s eyes snapped open into the darkness of the bedroom. She waited a moment for her eyes to adjust, then turned to Mark’s side of the bed.

He wasn’t there; it was empty. She reached over with her hand and wiped a hand across the sheet, and it felt cold. He hadn’t come to bed, yet.

How long have I been sleeping?
she wondered.

She lifted herself up and turned the digital clock toward her. It was just after 3:00 AM. Where was Mark?

She had considered staying awake, waiting until she was sure Mark was asleep, and then leaving the house in the middle of the night. Just going, without even packing some clothes. She hadn’t really made any definite plans other than that she wanted to get out. Sharon would help her, she knew that much. If Melissa turned up on her doorstep, even now in the middle of the night, Sharon would open her door and show her to the spare bedroom without any question. She had promised as much before.

Melissa knew she’d fallen asleep, and the half-baked plan had sunken away as she fell into a dreamless sleep.

Now, she was wide awake, and Mark wasn’t there.