"Why are you always covered in blood?"
"It's part of the job."
"I hate your job."
"I know," he nods, smirking as he adds, "but I love it."
"More than me?"
"How could I ever love anything more than you?"
"You're a dope," I murmur, craning my head to look at him.
"Maybe. Consequences of loving you, I guess."
"And soooo cheesy."
"Mhmm, but it's true: I love you."
"How much?"
"Too much."
"No, but really, how much?" I protest, brushing my nose against his.
He's got me in a death grip, arms tight around me. He's beaming while he leans down, fusing his lips to mine as he softly says, "Just trust me on this; I love you way too much. More than you'd ever know, more than I'd ever be able to express in a lifetime."
"Okay, okay, Romeo," I grin against his skin, nudging him to let go of my body so I could properly kiss him. He relents, but as soon as we're face-to-face, he pushes me until my back meets the wall and he's again got his arms wrapped around my waist.
"Hey, Al?" He whispers into my mouth, pecking my lips again.
"Hmm?" I'm too busy wanting to make-out with him.
We had less than an hour before my parents were due home and once that happened, he was surely going to climb out of my window and disappear into the dark. Then God only knows when I'd see him again.
"You can't leave me," he responds, breaking away from me mid-kiss to draw my hand up to his mouth, laying a softer one along my fingers.
"Why would I ever leave you?" I pull his face back to mine, my fingers digging into his silky tresses. "I love you…"
"I know," he says, "but seriously, Alisha." He gazes into my eyes, his expression stern, yet gentle. "You can't leave me now. I've tried keeping you at arm's length for the better part of nearly two years. Especially since you're Mike's sister, but…fuck! You've managed to snake your way in despite all of my attempts—"
"Don't act like you didn't want this…" I smirk, my hands traveling down. His fingers go the same way, immediately encircling my wrist, keeping me from touching him below the belt.
"Ali, seriously." He places that hand around his waist as he eyes me again, "You can't leave me. I gave you your choice, and you made it. You cannot leave me."
"I am never leaving you," I smile, embracing him into a hug, my face resting on his chest. "I really do love you, Jace… I don't want to be anywhere else, with anyone else, doing anything else."
He seems to sigh in relief as he squeezes me in his arms, kissing my other hand again as he murmurs, "I swear to you, one day I'm going to decorate your hands with diamonds far more expensive than this one." He presses the band around my ring finger, nudging my face up from his chest as he kisses me again, "I'm gonna work hard to make you the happiest girl alive."
"I'm already the happiest," I whisper back. When he shoots me a glance, I shake my head, smiling, "I have you."
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
The photograph I'm holding was taken that night: we were arm-in-arm beneath those sheets. I was goofily grinning up into my phone, holding it out for us, while his gaze was fixed on me, eyes full of adoration, lips pressed to my other hand. The look on my face was pathetic, even for the hopeless romantic I was as a teenager.
Oh, you poor, sweet, naïve fool, you…
If I'd only known what I was getting myself involved in.
It was 8 years ago but I remembered that day like it was yesterday. It was the first time I'd seen him in a month after he left for New York City; nearly 2 months since he'd made it official. Despite this, he still hadn't slept with me, insisting that it had to be the perfect moment, the right time all because I was still a virgin.
I was so mesmerized by his love, so completely enamored by him that I'd never stopped to question where he got the ring from…or how he got it. He was barely 23 at the time and had only been an Officer in the Rochester Police Department for a year and a half. So it should have raised some flags to me on how he could have possibly afforded to buy me a diamond ring that size on such an average salary. Or really any of the lavish things he'd come running to me with.
He still did that, only…everything had changed.
I wasn't sure where in our 8 years together, 5 of which we'd spent married, he'd started to fall out of love with me. Or at least it felt that way.
I turn to the mirror sitting on top of the nightstand, my hazel eyes staring back at me. I wipe at my face, the smeared tears sinking themselves into the pores of my skin. The pink handprint that marred my cheek was fading ever so slightly. I could probably get away with only a bit of concealer this time. The full face of heavy foundation never seemed to let my skin breathe and dolling myself up like that every day was a hassle. Especially since I'd usually have nowhere to go.
If he only knew how much effort I always put in to cover up his mistakes— No. His outbursts.
Mistakes happen once.
His outbursts however were far more frequent.
Shadow makes a whining nose, prodding his face near my knee, resting his head there as he looks up. I smile down at the Pit Bull Terrier, running my fingers over his ebony coat. He shuts his eyes in contentment as I continue to scratch him.
When my eyes catch a glimpse of the time, I realize it's nearly 6 PM. He'll be home any minute, I can feel it. Harvey said they'd be back later tonight, but something tells me it's the opposite. Just his cheery mood before he left was enough indication that wherever he was going, whatever he was doing, it was going to finish early. I may not know the answer to either of those questions, but no one could say I didn't know my husband's attitude and general state of being like the back of my hand. I'd married him despite all of that.
As if you ever had a choice…
"C'mon, baby, let's head down." I give Shadow one last scratch before I get up from the bed, shaking my head to clear my thoughts. I follow behind the dog as we walk downstairs, our feet padding down the marble staircase with every step before landing on the hardwood. I first walk back into the living room to the sound of cartoons and happy, giggly shrieks emanating into the air.
Shadow immediately heads over to the kids, gently nuzzling Emma before laying down next to Max; he had such an affinity towards the youngest child, it was thoroughly endearing. Emma sat a few steps away, leaning against the other Pit Bull Terrier, a white-furred beauty we called Lumen. The last dog, Milo, a Welsh Corgi, sat by Emma's side. Within seconds, the whole scene warms me, thawing me out of the frozen state I'd felt only moments earlier.
"Hey, guys, you hungry?" I ask, crouching down to pick up the 2-year-old. Max wearily grins at me, his dimples in full effect. My heart skips a beat looking into those big blue eyes.
Almost a solid year of being around him, and it still astounded me just how much he resembled Josh, despite them being half-brothers. The same went for Emma.
The 6-year-old looks away from the TV, smiling at me as she nods, "Yes!"
"Yes, what?" I smirk, fixing Max's dark, unruly hair.
"Yes, please!" Emma replies.
"Good girl!" I flash her a grin before turning to Max, "How about you, kiddo? Hungry?"
He nods as he makes a face, cooing, "Ooooh, monster," pointing out behind me. I turn to look, but of course finding absolutely nothing.
Every so often for the last few months, Max complained of seeing a monster somewhere about the house, particularly in his bedroom closet or under Emma's bed, and on some occasions – like tonight – outside. Well, I shouldn't say "complained" since it was more like he'd just randomly tell us or get hyper over it. He could never describe it, he'd just put his finger to his lips and whisper, "Shhh, I'm not s'pose to say."
It was about as unnerving as it was just a little funny.
"Sweetheart, there's no one out there," I comfort him, bringing his hand to my lips and kissing the back of it.
Max shrugs, yawning as he nestled his head back into my shoulder, mumbling, "Scuse me," before inching closer into me and wrapping his arms around my neck. I could have just melted away right then and there.
"Alright, well, I'll go get it ready and bring it over, okay? Can you please play with your sister and the dogs for just a teensy while longer? Then I promise, after dinner you can head straight to bed."
"Mhmm," it's the only reply I'm assuming he could muster in that moment.
I set him down, kissing the top of his head before making my way over to the kitchen, washing my hands before pulling on the oven mitts and opening the oven door to take out the lasagna. I cut into it and distribute the smaller slices into 2 plates before pushing the tray to the side. I grab the colorful kid-friendly forks from the cutlery drawer and stick one onto each plate. Before I'm able to get the lasagna back into the oven, the sound of the front door opening and then closing is heard throughout the house.
Josh was home.
My heartbeat upsurges, wondering what kind of mood he's in but he hasn't said anything yet so I couldn't—
"Damn, what smells so good?"
Thank God…
I breathe out a sigh of relief.
I can hear him taking his shoes off and hanging his coat up before he's walking into the living room to greet the kids.
I pour out some kibble for the dogs, placing the bag back into the cupboard before yelling, "Shadow, Milo, Lumen: food!" I hear their feet padding over, Milo outrunning the Pit Bulls, and as I refill their water dish Shadow and Lumen start in on their bowls, while Milo enthusiastically nuzzles at my legs. "Eat your food, you silly animal," I instruct, scratching him behind the ear. He turns to his kibble, hungrily scarfing it down and making a slight mess while the other 2 continued to eat in a far less frenzied manner. I laugh to myself at their antics before giving Lumen a scratch and standing up straight to wash my hands.
I hear Josh saying something to the kids as I bite my lip, contemplating whether I wanted to go out there or not. He hadn't said much to me in the week since he'd slapped me for calling him out on his general lack of taking care of his half-siblings. Not that I minded him not speaking to me. I'd take that over the fighting any day.
I bit the bullet and mentally tell myself to fuck it. The kids needed to eat.
I grab 2 juice boxes and carry out their plates to the living room. As I pass by his duffle bag sitting in the foyer, my heart hitches for a second before regulating. I wondered whether he realized that the blood from inside the bag was soaking through the black fabric and gradually pooling around itself. Even if he did, I don't think he really cared.
"Those need to be laundered," I hear to my right. He must have heard me stop dead in my tracks. "Jesse will pick up the clothes."
Probably to be incinerated again…
I walk over and into the living room, locking eyes with him as I get closer. He's half laying on the couch, holding Max up in the air who's just beaming down at him. As he watches me, it's like he frozen almost, unblinking, just staring.
"Things got a little out of hand," he explains, going back to playing with Max.
"It's fine," I reply, setting the first plate and a juice box down in front of Emma before placing the other meal on the coffee table and walking around it to grab the toddler. He doesn't immediately let go of Max, so I risk it and gaze down into his eyes, biting my lower lip again.
"He needs to eat," I explain. Josh then lets him go. I take Max over to where Emma was and sit down on the floor with him in my lap before pulling the food closer to us.
"Don't I get dinner?"
My breathing seemed to deregulate again as I look over at him. He's now straightening up, sitting properly on the couch, eyes narrowed, the slightest glint in them.
"I can go get it ready if uhm…if you want to feed Max?"
To which he shakes his head, loosening his tie and untying it.
Of course, why would he wanna do that?
Josh removes it as he smiles, saying, "I can get it. You haven't eaten already, have you?"
"No." I turn back to Max, holding out a piece of the lasagna for him on his fork.
"Good, I'll fix us a proper place at the dinner table then."
"You don't have to—"
"We're eating together," he simply asserts before walking the length of the living room. As he approaches the exit, he turns back to say, "Actually, I think I'm gonna hit the shower first. I'll fix the table after. That should give you plenty of time to get them fed and in their beds."
We hardly ever ate together anymore, and even the handful of times we did, it was awkward. Especially since there wasn't really much to talk about. It was either that, or we'd end up fighting, which involved me getting hurt. The thought of us eating together made my stomach churn.
He was expecting me to spend the rest of the night entertaining him. I knew what that entailed.
I'd much rather blow my brains out than blow him…
After the kids were fed, showered, dressed in their clean pj's, and then tucked into bed, I found myself stood in the bathroom, chewing through my thumbnail, staring at the bathtub.
There were droplets of red around the porcelain, the water in the basin was a violent shade of crimson. The clothes swirling above the duffle bag amidst the red were barely held together. Actually, they were in complete shreds. Almost as if someone had sliced through whoever wore them. A shiver runs down my spine at the thought and I turn around. My knuckles grow white as I clutch the marble countertop, my heart erratically beating within my chest.
"Don't ask questions, don't ask questions, don't ask questions…" I repeat to myself under my breath, trying to control the slight panic attack I could feel bubbling within me.
Questions? Fuck that. You need to run.
I walk out of the bathroom, closing the door after me, ensuring the childproof mechanism on the handle was fully functioning. The fact that he didn't even respect his own baby brother and sister enough to not bring this shit into our home was nothing new and it shouldn't have surprised me, yet still it managed to.
I needed to leave, I had to run. I couldn't stay here, and if worse came to worse, I'd take Max and Emma with me. It's not as if he ever bothered to clean after them, feed them, be there for them. I had to leave this place. Regardless of what's happened all the times I'd tried. His punishments were meant to discourage me, make me scared of ever even thinking of leaving again, but all they did was make me a little more desperate to do just that.
I wanted— No. I needed to get the fuck out of here. I couldn't live like this anymore. I'm sick of the lies, sick of him never explaining anything to me, sick of the consequences for asking. I was just so fucking sick of the—
Shit, that feels good…
My eyes slam shut as I tilt my head, allowing him better access to my neck as his lips made their way up to my jaw. My stomach twists, the warmth in my core exploding with the sensation of his touch.
He was kissing me.
Wait…
Wait, I—
Wait— WHAT?!
My eyes flew open as my whole body slightly tenses, but just enough so that he won't take notice. If I pushed him or pulled away, there was no doubt he'd become livid. I uneasily swallow, nervous as all hell inside, while his lips trail across my neck. He pulls my body into his, wrapping an arm around me while the other pushes away strands of my hair. As he inches closer to my sweet spot, I nearly moan but catch myself.
"Baby…" He whispers. "Have I told you that I love you today?"
"No," I replied, my voice slightly quivering. I tried not to sound sour about it, but it was the truth. However, the more I thought about it, the more the knife twists itself in my heart. Before I can stop, I find myself saying, "You haven't said those words in over three months."
His arms let go of me as he takes a step back, appearing flippant rather than shocked that I'd managed to even remind him of where he was falling short. He comes closer, his fingers creeping under my chin as he rests his palm on my cheek. He gazes at me, shaking his head, "It definitely hasn't been that long."
"It has." I back away from him, my chest heaving. "You haven't told me you love me in nearly four months, and you haven't touched me in two," I spit, glaring at him now. I tried to calm myself down, but it was as if I was malfunctioning. I don't know where or how this newfound confidence was fueling itself, but I needed to stop before he actually got mad.
But I was already mad.
"That's not true," he shakes his head again, stepping forward to take my hand.
I back away, hissing, "Yes, it is!"
"No," he sternly states, jaw clenching as he takes another step forward, adding, "it's not." He grabs me by the wrist, drawing close.
I wasn't sure how I could have missed the fire fiercely blazing in his eyes.
"It is," I nod, my voice reducing to a faint whisper as I struggled to break my wrist free from his grasp. "You're never home, you never touch me, you never even take care of your own siblings. You leave me to tend to everything while you're out there doing God knows what with God knows who!" I needed to shut my mouth, but it all kept spilling out of me like word vomit. "For all I know, you're out there fucking some—"
I should have seen what was coming next.
My entire body is sent jolting to the side, hitting the railing of the wrap-around balcony from the force of his blow. I stare at the ground for a second longer than necessary, bringing my hand up to graze my tender cheek as the stinging in my eyes takes over. I bite my bottom lip and hold back the tears that so desperately wanted to fall.
I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
He stands there, jaw still clenched, eyes cold, glaring at me. He takes a step further, but I can't go anywhere from where I've landed because he's cornered me against the railing. He leans down, fingers digging into my wrist again as he rasps, "How dare you accuse me of cheating?! I said I love you and I meant it. You don't get to pry; you don't ask questions. That was our agreement." He nudges my face to look at him and I dart my eyes everywhere other than his to avoid meeting them while his fingertips brush against the searing pain still shooting down the side of my face. "You're going to get yourself cleaned up and meet me downstairs. Now."
My hand still cupping my tingling cheek, I nodded as he pulls back and walks away and down the stairs. I immediately bolt back into the washroom, locking it as I gasped for a breath of fresh air, the tears finally rolling down my face. My body trembles as I slide my back down the door until I'm sitting on the ground, clutching my knees.
I wasn't sure why I'd said that. There was no inclination of whether it was true, and somewhere deep down I knew there was no substance to it because he wouldn't do that. It wasn't in his character. I think I just wanted to provoke him somehow. Yet I couldn't help wondering, how could he still hurt me like this if he truly loved me?
I needed to run.