by T. I. Lowe
She held the bite of fish in her mouth and didn’t know whether to spit it out or swallow. With her neck freshly jostled, she didn’t know if she could swallow. The fish seemed to be growing in her mouth, but she felt like she had no other choice.
Gabriella managed to get herself upright and began to clear the table as Brent made his way to their room to shower. She hoped it would sober him some. He was always harder on her when he was drinking, and tonight he smelled like a bar. She didn’t need to guess where he had gone until it was time for supper.
She spit the fish back on her plate, and without eating anything, she meticulously cleaned the kitchen and dining area before Brent returned for his nightcap.
She had already poured his usual, bourbon on the rocks, when he strode back into the room. His dark hair was still damp from his shower, and he was wearing only a pair of black night pants.
Brent was a good-looking man who found great satisfaction in keeping himself in impeccable shape. If only that were enough. It was in the beginning. She couldn’t believe how shallow she had been with her choice of him, looking no further than the handsome shell and dollar signs.
Looking back, Gabriella tried blaming it on her circumstances. After spending a childhood shuffling between foster homes and children’s group homes, she found herself living on the streets of Chicago at only age eighteen. It didn’t take long before she hooked up with some girls heading to Vegas to begin their careers as dancers. Gabriella had no desire to be in any spotlight, but she fell into waitressing pretty easily. That only lasted four months before she jumped on the Brent Sadler ride to hell.
He had sauntered into the casino with confidence and charm that night and couldn’t keep his eyes off Gabriella. After a few hours passed, he finally motioned her over. He stood to greet her as she reached him in the congested place.
“It’s entirely your fault,” Brent had said as his dark eyes took in every inch of Gabriella. She could tell he appreciated the way the casino uniform of hot pants and a skintight, glittery tank top emphasized her shape.
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand.” Although he sounded seductive, the statement had confused her.
“I’ve lost every bet I’ve made tonight because of you distracting me with those mile-long legs,” he whispered into her ear as he ran his hand up her thigh.
Gabriella playfully slapped his hand away. “Sounds like your fault, sweetheart. Not mine.” She intentionally sashayed in the direction of the bar, knowing he was following her closely.
Once they reached the bar, he put his arms around her waist and gently turned her to face him. “No. It’s absolutely your fault, and I think you need to make it up to me,” Brent said. “What time do you finish your shift?”
“Midnight.” Gabriella could barely breathe. The cool confidence this gorgeous man emitted had hypnotized her. With the cut of his white dress shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, and expensive black dress slacks, he looked like a promising companion for the evening.
By the end of the night, Gabriella found herself in his penthouse suite. And by the next morning, Brent had talked her into marrying him and going back to Washington, where he promised to take care of her for the rest of his life. The man had worshiped her in the short time they had been together. He was older by fifteen years, and Gabriella found him and his promises absolutely irresistible.
Before making the trip to her new home and life, Brent had an agenda for them to complete. They shopped for an entirely new wardrobe, which he handpicked for Gabriella with the assistance of the salesladies, in expensive boutiques. The salesladies and Brent showered her with compliments on how everything fit so well on her long, lean body. He would slip into the dressing room and run kisses down her neck and stare at them both in the mirror. Their opposite appearances—her with pale-blonde hair and ice-blue eyes and him with a shock of dark-brown hair and brown eyes—contrasted each other beautifully.
“We even look like we belong together, baby. You’re perfect for me.” He intoxicated Gabriella with the lavish attention. She had never felt loved until meeting this stunning man.
After the shopping spree, a complete spa pampering followed. She had her nails and toes professionally done for the first time and also experienced her first massage. She was eager for this gift of a new life, so Gabriella gladly agreed to have her hair dyed to a deep red after Brent and the stylist insisted that it was the perfect color to bring out the color of her eyes.
Once her entire body was polished and her new dark-red hair had been perfectly straightened, Brent whisked Gabriella away to the closest wedding chapel to officially make her his property—as he called her. In those few short days, he completely erased who she was and made her exactly what he wanted. Being only eighteen and neglected for so long, Gabriella had welcomed the change. It all felt like a fantasy come true. A Prince Charming rode into town in his fancy sports car and rescued the poor damsel stuck in a casino tower.
Brent had paid the wedding officiant a hefty bonus to omit certain details about her on the marriage certificate. Although her full name was Leah Gabriella Allen, the marriage certificate stated that Gabriella Allen had wed Brent Donavan Sadler. Brent told her he was a very powerful businessman, and he did this to protect her privacy. He would put up with no one bothering his bride in any way whatsoever. She agreed to it all and never asked a single question.
If she’d only known then what she knew now. As she watched him retrieve the glass from the counter and take a gulp, Gabriella thought of how easy it would be to simply poison the jerk and be freed of her prison life. Disgusted with herself, she quickly dismissed the absurd thought. No matter how rough this situation was, he was her husband.
He quickly finished his drink and then met her gaze. His glassy eyes bored into hers. “You like what you see, baby?” His lips curled into the familiar sneer.
Uh-oh. She hadn’t meant to stare as she tried dissolving the ugly thought of killing him.
Before she could answer, Brent sauntered over and pulled her close. He gave her a deep kiss that stung her tongue with the sharp taste of the alcohol that was still so fresh in his mouth. He grabbed her by the back of her head to deepen the kiss even more, making Gabriella wince and cry out from the pain in her neck.
It had been four days since the incident, and her neck felt no better. He had shaken her violently for forgetting to pick up the dry cleaning that afternoon. Then he had lost his cool because supper was five minutes late due to his act of rage. It was her fault, always her fault. When she bent slightly beside him to place his plate on the table, Brent had grabbed her by the neck and choked her until she passed out.
When she came to, Gabriella had been horrified to find Brent still sitting at the table, finishing his supper, as she lay on the floor next to his chair. She continued to lie there, not knowing if she could manage to move with her neck in pain, until he demanded that she get up and take care of the mess.
Pushing the memory away, she tried to focus on the new threat before her. “Please, Brent. My neck is hurt badly. I’ll do whatever you want. Just please be easy—”
He grabbed her jaw to shut her up. “Maybe you should spend a few days in the closet so you can let your neck recover!” In a drunken rage, he began pulling her toward the guest bedroom.
“But the New Hope Children’s Home benefit supper is tomorrow night.” It was a hopeless plea. She knew he wouldn’t let her help with the one thing dear to her heart.
Brent sneered. “Guess you’ll think twice next time before you talk back to me. Those brats will have to make it without you, my dear.”
Gabriella ended her appeal. There was no point in it.
“Please, Brent. Please let me use the bathroom first. I won’t give you any more trouble. I promise.”
To her surprise, he gave in and let her go. “You have one minute.”
She hustled inside to do her business. While she was washing her hands, she eased the medicine cabinet open and fished out the Tylenol PM bot
tle from the back. She stuffed it in her bra and made her way back to Brent, who was waiting in the hallway. She willingly walked into the closet and turned to look at him. His chocolate-brown eyes were rimmed red and had an evil glare to them. He leaned on the doorjamb and watched her for a few moments. She made a step in his direction, wanting to close the distance and make him love her. He slowly shook his head at her advance, so she stood still.
“You could prevent all of this if you would just do as you should,” he said in a tired voice. “You always make everything so difficult.” He closed the closet door in her face.
Gabriella’s shoulders automatically sagged when she heard the all-too-familiar click of the closet door locks. She stood numbly in the middle of the narrow closet until she heard Brent close the bedroom door. She knew he wouldn’t return anytime soon. The pain pulsing from her neck, all the way down her back, was reaching an excruciating crescendo. She tried adjusting to being in total darkness and felt around the top shelf for a U-shaped pillow she had placed there a few years ago. Someone from Brent’s office had given it to him as a Christmas present, thinking it was a reasonable gift for someone who flew frequently. Of course, Brent would never be caught using the silky pillow. Gabriella had held on to it and now was relieved to have a makeshift neck brace. She slid it off the shelf and wrapped the soft, cool pillow around her angry neck.
Exhausted, Gabriella tossed extra pillows and blankets onto the floor. She rummaged around the edge of the closet for a bottle of water. She kept more than she needed hidden in the closet at all times. Not doing so was a mistake she had made only once, a few years back. By the time Brent had released her, she was so severely dehydrated that he had no choice but to take her to the emergency room. That was only the second time he had allowed such a trip. He blamed the dehydration on a nasty bout of stomach flu, and Gabriella had weakly agreed with him.
The other visit to the ER happened about two years into their marriage. Gabriella was to meet up with Brent after work for a gala. She had worn an exquisite emerald gown with gold stilettos. Brent, equal to her normal height of five foot eleven, was horrified to discover the shoes made her tower over him. He made her stand at the opposite side of the room from him for the whole evening. Once they returned to their loft later that night, a drunken Brent argued with Gabriella about how she had embarrassed him. As she walked up the stairs in front of him, trying to get away from his rage, he grabbed her by the hair and slung her back down the stairs. The fall resulted in a broken ankle that required surgery. Gabriella was on the couch for six weeks, and so began her humiliating weight gain.
Sitting in the dark closet now, Gabriella pulled the pills out of her bra. It was almost a full bottle. After shouldering so much unbearable physical, mental, and emotional pain, she weighed the decision to finish off the pills and just be done with it. It was so tempting to go to sleep and never have to wake up in her nightmare again. Brent hated her. She hated her. She had no one.
She shook three pills out into her palm and popped them in her mouth. She washed them down with a drink of water and shook three more pills into her palm. Tears streamed down her face as she caressed the pills in her hand. She wanted this so badly, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
“You are such a coward. I hate you,” Gabriella whispered in the dark as she put the pills back into the bottle.
She repositioned the neck pillow and tried to settle in for the undetermined length of her sentence. As she waited for the medicine to take effect, Gabriella continued her verbal assault on herself, naming all the reasons why she was a loser and why she deserved the life she was living. No one hated Gabriella Sadler more than Gabriella herself.
Her first visit to the closet came to mind as she tried to get comfortable. She had only been married to Brent for about five months when she decided to change her hair color back to blonde as a surprise for him. When he had come home, she received her first beating and was thrown into the closet. He said he couldn’t stand to look at her. A shocked Gabriella was trapped in the closet for two days with no food or water. Shamefully, she ended up soiling her clothes. Once he let her out, Brent had begged for her forgiveness, saying that he didn’t know what came over him. He had promised to never do such a thing again. He bought her a new diamond bracelet to make up for his wrongdoing. A young and naive Gabriella believed him.
The next stay came as a punishment for a guy speaking to her at the gym. Along with the closet stay, Brent canceled her gym membership. As she lay in a ball on the floor of the closet with wet pants, all she could think of was the saying “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.”
Gabriella thought Brent was just going through a difficult time and that it would all pass. This was what she told herself, even as she focused on the closet doorknob. A lock had been purposely placed on the outside of the door. A wave of confusion, followed by understanding, had sliced through her at the realization of the premeditation. She had hoped she was the first to endure the closet.
After Brent released her the second time, Gabriella began hiding items in the closet for her stays. As she was hiding a coffee can with a lid for a makeshift portable potty, she slumped to the floor, confused by her own actions. Her instincts were telling her to run and never look back, but then where on earth would she go? She had no one and nothing. She felt trapped and helpless. So instead of running, she tried to make the situation as comfortable as she could.
Gabriella woke hours later with her entire body throbbing. She was so tired of hurting. She lay there for a few moments, trying to force her weary body to move. She felt around for the watch. She found it and hit the button on the side to illuminate the face. It was nine in the morning. Relieved that Brent was gone for the day, she fished out the large flashlight and moved herself to a sitting position. After a wave of dizziness passed, she reached over to check the lock on the closet door. Not surprisingly, the door remained locked. Every morning in the closet began with the torturous hope of being released. Brent never unlocked the door while Gabriella was awake. She guessed it was his way of not having to face the elephant he locked up, so to speak.
Her next order of business was to take care of business. After that she pulled out a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a bottle of water. The closet routine had become second nature after ten years. Once she had her teeth clean, she wiped her body off as best she could with a few baby wipes. She checked the watch and found that only twenty minutes had crept by. As if knowing she needed something to do, her stomach growled. She gave in and dug out a bag of Oreos.
“Breakfast of champions,” she murmured before popping a cookie into her mouth. She indulged in about half the bag before putting them away. A Twinkie was next, followed by two candy bars. She washed it all down with a can of warm soda. Ashamed, Gabriella put the junk food away. She rechecked the time, only to find that breakfast had taken all of ten minutes. She decided on two more Tylenol PMs and settled once more on the makeshift bed.
The next two days passed in a foggy routine of checking the lock, eating junk food, crying, more pills, and restless sleep. By the third day, all of the Tylenol PM and water were gone. Feeling grimy and slightly panicked, Gabriella dug out a hidden screwdriver and picked the lock. After hearing the familiar release of the catch, she breathed a quick prayer of thanks at being able to get out, only to discover that Brent had fastened the child safety latch above the door.
3
NOTHING COULD DESCRIBE the relief Gabriella felt when, on the fifth morning, she found the closet door unlocked. She swung the door open and drank in the cool, fresh air of the open room. Slowly, she stood and headed to the sink faucet in the guest bath, where she drank greedily from it. After several gulps, she splashed her face with the refreshing water. As she stood up to stretch her aching back, she caught a glimpse of a tangled, redheaded monster, with hideous black rings under its eyes, reflecting from the mirror. She studied herself for a minute, realizing that her light-blonde hair was beginning to pee
k through again. At least the bruises had finally disappeared enough that she could go to the salon.
Gabriella headed to the master bedroom to retrieve her phone. She needed to figure out what day it was and what appointments she had to reschedule. As she grabbed it out of her purse, her hand came upon her packet of birth control pills. She pulled it out and popped one in her mouth. Missing the daily pill for the past four days had led to a poorly timed period. At least it wasn’t a heavy one, or so she tried to reassure herself while imprisoned. After plugging her phone into the charger, she rescheduled her hair appointment for first thing the following morning. She knew her less-than-perfect hair would set Brent off.
She retrieved a garbage bag and took care of the closet. Once she had it cleaned out, she added an entire case of water she previously had stored in the pantry and a newly emptied coffee can. She placed the garbage by the front door to take out later. Fatigue was already trying to set in, so she headed to the kitchen for some real sustenance. Bypassing the enormous bouquet of white roses and the large, beautifully wrapped gift box—Brent’s token apology—that were on the kitchen island, Gabriella went straight to the coffeepot. The apology would have to wait until later. After starting the coffee, Gabriella popped two slices of bread in the toaster and began heating a skillet. While she cooked six eggs, she munched on buttered toast and gulped down a cup of coffee. She feasted on more toast and coffee with the eggs.
After starting in on a third cup of coffee, Gabriella got some wits about her. She made quick work of cleaning the kitchen and living room, as well as the bathrooms. As she straightened the master bedroom, she noticed a spread of several one-hundred-dollar bills and a book of matches from Vegas on top of Brent’s dresser. The evidence lay before her that he’d not only locked her up but also left her alone. Sadly, it didn’t even surprise her. Shaking her head, she swiped four of the hundred-dollar bills and added them to her stash behind her dressing table. Brent was terrible at keeping up with his money, which worked to Gabriella’s advantage. He would give her large sums of cash to deposit in their banking account, without counting it himself. She had no idea how he came up with such cash, and she had a nagging feeling that she really didn’t want to know. It was nothing for her to swipe a few thousand dollars with no detection from him. Over the past few years, Gabriella had been able to hide a nice bit. Although she knew it was enough to take off with, she was terrified to actually go through with it.