He’d punish her. A lot.
So she didn’t resist when he patted her inner thighs. She spread them, wide enough for him to walk on his knees between them. She felt him prodding her, his penis hard and slick.
God, here it comes. He’s going to do it.
He started to push. She felt her intimate ingress being pried open.
Then she heard a whack!
Ernest groaned. The bed popped as his weight shifted to the side. Opening her eyes, she saw the dazed expression on Ernest’s face for a fleeting instant as it dropped sideways. He tumbled off the bed, hitting the floor with a heavy thud.
Harold stood at the foot of the bed, a fireplace poker over his shoulder as if he’d just knocked a baseball out of the park. To Melanie, he had. He’d nailed the ball good.
“Harold!” she cried behind the gag. It hit her tongue, gagging her.
If her petite husband had heard her, he gave no indication. He stared off to the side, where Ernest had most likely landed. Lowering the poker, he rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. It was a habit of his. Whenever he was nervous, he wiped his mouth over and over. He was doing this now, unable to stop as he stared at the product of his actions.
“Harold!”
This time he heard her, for sure. He turned, glanced at her eyes, then looked down. She watched his eyes start at her breasts and work down to her groin that showed between the tattered curtains of her panties.
His hand went back to his mouth, rubbing.
“Harold!” Melanie called for a third time.
Blinking, Harold shook his head. “Melanie!” He ran around the other side of the bed, sitting at her hip. “Are you all right?”
Melanie started to answer, remembered the gag, and stopped. She tilted her head to the side, widening her eyes.
Harold caught the hint. “Oh!” He leaned over her, setting the poker by her side. Then he reached behind her head, fumbling with the knot. Sometimes he accidentally pulled her hair, causing her to wince. She felt the knot drop away. “Sorry,” he said. Bet it’s hard to talk with this in your mouth.
Melanie worked with her tongue to shove the rag forward. As she felt it touching her teeth, Harold reached out, grimacing as he plucked the rag free. Melanie took a deep breath. “Harold…” She took another deep breath. It felt good to breathe without the rag clogging her mouth. She could still taste it. “I’m so glad you…came home.”
Harold made a dopey smile. Shrugged. “Forgot my phone again.”
For once, she was thankful that he had.
“I came in and heard him talking about your…” He looked at her breasts. “Those. Then I snuck to the fireplace, grabbed the poker, and came back.”
So Ernest had heard something: Harold sneaking around the house for a weapon. Melanie was certain her surprise showed on her face.
“He couldn’t see me coming in because his back was to the door.” Harold pointed at the door as if she didn’t know where it was located. “Guess you didn’t see me, either.”
“No.” She tried to wiggle her arms. The tape held them firmly in place. “Now stop yapping about it and get me loose.”
“I should call the police.”
“Get me loose first, damn it.”
Harold closed his eyes, sighed. Same thing he always did when she started yelling. “Mel. Now’s not the time to raise your voice. I just saved your life.”
Melanie opened her mouth to remind Harold that she was about to be raped and probably killed and that her demeanor was completely understandable, given the situation. But she held the words in. She let out a long breath. “Just get a knife and cut me loose. Now?”
Harold nodded. “Fine.”
“Wait,” she said. “He had a knife. It should be around here somewhere.”
Harold stood, walked around to the foot of the bed. “Ah.” He bent over, vanishing. Felt like he was down there for five minutes before he straightened, holding the knife and giving her that same impish grin. “Found it.”
“Good.”
She noticed his eyes had lowered between her legs. She closed them, feeling a slimy flow make its way up her body. Harold looked her in the eye.
“Is he dead?” she asked, trying to distract him from her covering herself. She shouldn’t feel odd being naked in front of Harold, but she always had. She knew she had a nice body, but she liked to keep it covered, even around her husband. It was how he looked at her, made her feel…awkward.
Harold checked the side of the bed again. “He’s breathing. Bet he won’t be moving around anytime soon. The back of his head is cracked open. Bleeding a lot.”
“That’s what he gets.”
Harold smiled. He started around the side of the bed again. She glimpsed the front of his jutting pants. My God, he’s hard! Melanie wanted to ask him what was so arousing about this, but didn’t. She smiled when he sat down.
Harold leaned over her, raising the knife to her hand. “Wow, he really made this tight, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. I can hardly feel my arms anymore.”
“I’ll have you free in a jiff.”
“Good. Just do it, already. But don’t slice me open.”
“You know…” Harold lowered his arms, leaned back so he could look at her. “I’ve never seen you so…” He held his hand up, as if he might grab the word he wanted out of the air.
“So, what?”
“Um…vulnerable.”
“Why is that thought occurring to you?”
“It just is.” He stared at her, clucking his tongue. “I’m right, though. Usually you’re in the position to give all the orders, but it’s kind’ve hard for you right now, isn’t it?”
“Harold.”
“I’m just stating it, Mel. That’s all.”
“Yes,” she forced herself to say. She even got a smile to form. “I guess you’re right.”
“You don’t like it, do you?”
“Cut...”
“Do you?”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Where were these inappropriate questions coming from? “No, Harold. I don’t like it.”
“It’s because you’re naked, isn’t it? You don’t like me seeing your body.”
Though he was right again, she shook her head as if he was being silly. “That’s not true.”
“How many times have I seen you naked?”
“When we make love.”
“At night? With the lights off?” He shook his head, clucking his tongue again. “No. I think really the only times are when I purposely walk in on you in the shower and...”
“I knew it,” she said. “Creep.”
“Mel. Really? Name calling? Right now?”
“I’m sorry, I’m just…worked up.”
“I bet.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I didn’t forget my phone,” he said. “I was watching you.”
Melanie’s back felt as if it was being scratched with icy claws as she watched him pull his phone from his pocket, play with the screen. He held it up to her. On the small display, she saw a bird’s eye view of Ernest pulling her robe apart.
She looked up at the ceiling. The light was a decorative mock-chandelier, dangling from a short length of imitation gold chain. Somewhere up there, Harold had hidden a camera.
“I wanted to see what you do in here when I’m not home.”
“You goddamn pervert!”
“Again with the name calling.” He shook his head. “You talk to yourself quite a bit.”
Melanie cringed inside. She talked to herself about Harold all the time, so it was hard to know just what he’d heard her say.
“You don’t think very highly of me,” he said, “do you?”
“It’s just me talking, Harold…that’s all.”
“Shut up!” He jabbed the side of her thigh with the knife. Then he jumped back, gasping at what he’d done.
Melanie screamed. The knife hadn’t gone in very deep, but it still burned
as if a fire had been lit in her muscle. Really, her explosive reaction came from the realization her husband had just stabbed her.
“Holy Moley!” Harold shouted.
“You stabbed me?” Melanie screamed. “You…stabbed me?”
“I didn’t mean to…”
“Yes, you did!” Melanie’s sobs turned to loud wails. She watched Harold through her tear-soaked eyes, pacing back and forth, his hands covering his ears.
“Stop it!” he shouted.
Melanie didn’t stop, she got louder. She knew how he hated being yelled at and she was really letting herself go now.
“I said stop!” he yelled, trying to be louder than her. But he couldn’t. She knew it, and he knew it. “Stop!”
Melanie kept on. She almost smiled because she knew how much it was bothering him. But her smile died at birth when she saw him stripping out of his clothes. Her scream petered off to a whine. “Harold? What are you…?”
He climbed onto the bed, his erection pointing at her. He was naked except for his knee-high black socks.
“Wait,” she said. “Don’t…Harold. What do you think you’re going to do?”
“With the lights on, that’s what.” He pushed his way between her legs, crawling forward.
She kicked, threw her feet out, but he was already up too far. Her resistance was useless. “Stop it!” she cried, now sounding like Harold had a short while ago. “Please don’t…do this.”
“I’m doing it,” he said. He dropped on top of her, his mouth finding a nipple. It was the same one Ernest had been twisting. He flicked it with his tongue a few times before looking up at her. Saliva made a wet ring around his mouth. “You really do have a nice body; you shouldn’t hide it from me.”
Before she could say anything, he shoved into her.
As Melanie screamed and begged for him to stop, Harold thrust violently until he was done.
Melanie stared at the ceiling. She felt numb everywhere but between her legs. Harold’s seed trickled out, running down her thigh. She was sore inside, throbbing. She no longer felt the pain in her leg from the knife, only the heat inside of her, like a dull fire that wouldn’t go out.
Above her, she heard bumping sounds, followed by something being dragged across the floor. Harold had taken Ernest up there, to Jon’s room. She wasn’t sure why.
Before Harold had squirted inside her, she’d already decided she wouldn’t do anything about this. She figured when he finished, he would return to his senses and let her go. Then they could call the cops. He’d spend the rest of their lives making it up to her.
But he hadn’t done any of those things. When he’d finished, he’d gone straight into their bathroom. She’d heard him showering through the closed door. He’d even whistled a melody as he’d cleaned himself. He’d come out a few minutes later, in his robe, smiling.
After bandaging her leg, he’d walked over to Ernest, grabbed his feet, and dragged him away.
She stared at the ceiling some more, realized it was quiet up there. Then the sound of Harold’s footfalls came from the hallway. He was heading to the kitchen.
A good while later, Harold returned to the room. A tray was balanced on his hand. On top, she saw a sandwich and a tall glass of orange juice with a bendy straw draped over the rim. Her mouth watered as she stared at the orange fluid.
“Hungry?” he asked. “Thirsty? I want to make sure you stay hydrated. We’ve got a few days ahead of us and you’ll need your energy.”
Melanie’s stomach folded in on itself, robbing her of her appetite. Though she’d hated to admit it, until now, even after what Harold had done to her, she’d been very hungry.
Harold sat down on the edge of the bed, lowering the tray to his lap. “It’s ham and turkey, your favorite.”
“Why are you doing this to me? You’re my husband. You’re…” She shook her head. “You’re no different than Ernest.”
“That’s his name?”
“Yes. You’re no different than he is.”
“I’m nothing like him.”
“You…raped me, Harold. Your own wife.” Her voice turned thick. Tears wetted the corners of her eyes. Before today, Harold had never seen her cry. Even when her mother had been killed in a car accident, she hadn’t cried in front of Harold.
Instead of showing any hints of shame, Harold just smiled. “I guess I got a little crazy, didn’t I?”
“A little…crazy?”
“You know what I was on my way to do this morning?” Melanie stared at him. “I was going to throw myself in front of a train. I left a note on the fridge, but I saw it was still under the magnet. I know you went into the kitchen at least three times before Ernest showed up.”
“I didn’t see it.” And she hadn’t, really. Sure, she’d opened the fridge each time she’d gone in there, but she hadn’t been looking for a note so naturally she hadn’t seen one. “Honest, Harold.”
“See? You’re doing it again. Instead of asking me why I wanted to kill myself, you’re trying to make yourself out to be in the right about the note.”
Had she been doing that?
“I’m…I didn’t mean to.”
“Still can’t even say you’re sorry. Even now.” Harold groaned. “Wow. I was going to kill myself because I was tired of it all. My job, my life, living with a wife who hated me.”
“You put up cameras in the house!”
“Really, it started off innocently. I just wanted to know more about you. We’ve been married for over twenty years and I still don’t know much about you. I wanted to see what you were like when I wasn’t around. Then I started enjoying watching you, you know? Sometimes you’d shower, then come out in the bedroom with nothing on. Get dressed. Only one time did you ever play with yourself. I was surprised by that. Figured you did it all the time when I wasn’t around.”
“Let me go, Harold. Let’s call the police, have them take Ernest away, then we can put this behind us, okay? We both know there are…issues in the marriage that need to be addressed. We can take care of that.”
“Tempting, but no. I’m leaving you there.”
Tears streamed down her face. “Why!?!” She flung herself against the mattress. “Damn it, why?”
Harold smiled again. “Because I like you where you are. When I saw Ernest on my phone, forcing you to get on the bed, I got really worried about you at first. But I noticed how quickly you submitted to him.”
“He had a knife!”
“You didn’t know that at first. You let him force his way in, force you in here and tape you up. You answered the door in your robe!”
“I thought it was you!”
“You never answer the door in your robe when you know it’s me.”
“I…” Melanie stopped. She wasn’t sure why she’d gone to the door in a robe, wearing only her panties underneath. She’d just showered and had been comfortable. That was all. There’d been no thought to it.
“Let’s not talk about it anymore and ruin our lunch,” Harold said, “okay?”
“Harold…this has to stop.”
“It will. When I’m ready for it to. Since I’d planned on dying today, I told my job I was going out of town. Took the week off, cashed in my vacation pay. It’s in a bag on my backseat. That was for you. I wanted to make sure you got it. But now my plan’s changed. I want to have some fun for a while. Got to make sure you eat, so when I call the police later this week to report you were murdered, they’ll believe me. See, you have food in your system, shows we spent time together.”
Melanie shivered. Harold was going to kill her? Kill her? “You won’t get away with it, Harold. Please, just let me go before you go too far.”
“I thought it out while I was in the shower. You know I get my best ideas in the shower. I’m going to keep Ernest tied up upstairs. Then I’m going to bring him down here when I’m ready. Kill you, then kill him. I’ll say I walked in on him finishing you off. Fought with him and managed to kill him, then the grieving husband will han
dle all the funeral arrangements. And that hefty life insurance policy will give me more than enough money to retire on. A new life can begin. Exciting, no?”
Melanie stared at the man she’d been living with for almost twenty-five years. And for the first time, she realized she’d been married to a stranger. He was going to kill her; there was no talking him out of it.
“Now, let’s eat. Got to get that energy built up.”
After lunch, he climbed on top of her again. He was much rougher this time.
“Come on, Mel,” said Harold. “Smile.”
“Fuck off.”
Harold laughed. With his head on her shoulder, he held his phone above their faces. “Come on. We can’t be spending time together if we’re not taking pictures of it, right? That’s what happy couples do, isn’t it? Now smile.”
Melanie stuck out her tongue. Harold snapped the picture. The flash lit up the room. It had gotten dark outside and the only light came from the lamp on the nightstand table.
Chuckling, Harold sat up. He stared at the screen. “Perfect. Even better than I expected. Love the tongue. They’ll think you’re being playful. And you can’t even tell you’re naked.”
Melanie stared down at herself. Her nipples were swollen from two days’ worth of Harold’s biting and pinching. But her skin looked soft and shiny in the dim lamplight. He’d used a basin of warm, soapy water and a washcloth to bathe her. He’d even washed between her legs. She’d recognized the soap’s scent as hers from the bathroom.
“Have to make sure you’re cleaned every day,” he’d said. “That way when they take traces of your body, it’ll show you’ve been using your soap.”
The amount of detail he’d put into his plan in such a short amount of time was frightening.
Maybe it wasn’t such a short time. Maybe he’d been trying to think of a way to kill me for a long time now and was too scared to try, until an opportunity like this came along.
Her husband hated her. And now that she’d realized it, she also realized she felt nothing about it. Maybe if he’d just told her out of the blue, over dinner one night, the impact would have been more catastrophic.
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