me again. Harder this time. “I’m not blind. You’re fucking him. And I’m putting an end to it. I’m also putting an end to his club. I’ll fucking take everything he cares about.”
I don’t know exactly what he means by that, but I know just from looking at and feeling his dark energy that I’m not going to like it.
Still running with denial, I say, “I’m not going to stand here and listen to this. I’ve given you everything since I married you. Everything. My life, my body, my fucking soul. Don’t you dare come here and throw accusations in my face that aren’t true.”
I try to move past him, but he stops me. Squeezing his fingers around my throat, he says, “By the time I’m finished with you, you will know never to lie to me again. And you will know that I am the only man who touches you.”
His fingers are cutting off my oxygen and my attempts at prying them from me are unsuccessful. He watches me gasp for breath, exerting more pressure, almost choking me.
My head spins, my lungs wheeze, my fear roars to life.
The monster I live with is finally rearing its head.
My fingers claw at his.
“Joe,” I choke out. “Stop.”
“We’re just getting started, Chelsea,” he says, his voice as dark as his eyes.
He shoves me away from him and I stumble backwards on the paved area of the pool while sucking air in and trying to refill my lungs.
I need to run but my legs are weak and every part of me is slow after being deprived of oxygen. But I push myself because I need to get far, far away from Joe.
As I take steps backward, he advances towards me. When I run into a chair and almost trip over it, his hand is across my face. This is more than a slap but not quite a punch, and it causes me to crumple over the chair.
Joe’s hands grip my waist and he lifts me back to my feet. “How many times have you fucked him?”
Still trying to get my breath back, I look at him. I don’t want to answer him. The truth will enrage him even more than he is; a lie will do the same. When I don’t give him an answer, he hits me again. This one knocks the breath out of me.
You need to run.
He’s going to kill you.
Panic oozes through me as what he’s doing to me now collides in my mind with what my father did to me when I was younger.
I want to take my power back and stand up against Joe, but all that baggage weighs me down.
It makes me feel weak and unable to defend myself.
It keeps me small.
That’s what these assholes want, Chelsea.
To keep you small so they can be big.
Stand the fuck up and fight.
I force myself to straighten and to push my shoulders back.
I force myself to look my husband in the eyes.
And then I force myself to stand up to him even though it’s the scariest thing I’ve ever had to do.
“I love him, Joe, and I will never stop loving him. And you can keep hitting me all you want, but it’s not going to look good when the media sees how you manage your wife, because trust me, I will show them.”
“You won’t have the chance to show them, because I won’t let you near them without me. Everything you do from here on out will be monitored. I gave you space to begin with, to see if you could be trusted, and now I know you can’t be. Things will be very different now.”
Run.
You need to fucking run.
I stare at Joe, horrified at the man I married, and I know I’m right. I need to fucking run.
So I do.
I run towards the front yard.
I need to find other people because Joe won’t chance touching me in public.
He comes after me, but I have an advantage. I’m lighter and I’m a runner, so I’m faster than him.
The problem is the gate to the front yard. I have to stop to unlock it and that gives him time to catch up.
As I madly fumble with the lock, I glance back at him. When I see how close he is, I kick my leg out at him, aiming for his balls. He anticipates that, though, and stops my leg before my foot connects with him.
“You can’t win here, Chelsea,” he says, breathing his evil all over me.
I keep working