The thought is sobering enough that I keep my shower short. Even so, by the time I’ve toweled myself and put on a fresh set of underwear, darkness has fallen. It’s later than I wanted, but I’ll be gone within the hour.
I pad to the living room, humming to myself, feeling lighter than I’ve ever felt. The cleanness of my body matches the cleanness of my soul. For the first time I realize that now I can be whoever it is I want to be. But who is that? I don’t know.
No matter, I’ve got all the time in the world to figure it out. I open the fridge and pull out a beer. I uncap it and pad back into the living room. I’m so distracted by the intoxicating thoughts of freedom that for a few moments I don’t realize that the air inside the trailer has changed.
My eye catches a pair of boots by the door, boots that weren’t there before I hopped into the shower. They are boots I’d recognize anywhere. I’m still too lost in thought to understand their significance. Slowly, my mind awakens and my gaze travels along the ground until it reaches the feet that belong to the boots. I look up and swallow heavily as my eyes fall upon my husband sitting in the easy chair.
“Hello, Sam,” Tim snarls, his eyes flashing dangerously. “Going somewhere?”
“I…”
“You didn’t think I was just going to let you go, did you?”
He pushes himself up from the chair slowly. I’m still too surprised to speak. His voice is deadly calm. It’s not a voice I’ve heard before. Usually when he’s angry it is easy to tell. He yells, he screams, he punches. But now his voice is so calm and steady that it’s unnatural. What’s even more surprising is that he seems sober.
“How did you…?”
“Catch you? Well, to be honest, I just got lucky. Though I did have a feeling you were going to try something like this before too long. Ever since you stopped seeing your boyfriend, I could see your mind working. Didn’t I tell you that you will never leave me?”
The word ‘never’ stirs something in my mind and suddenly all the anger I’ve been holding back for the last ten years wells up.
“You think I need your permission to leave?” I say, my hands starting to tremble. “I don’t need anything from you. I can leave whenever I want. You don’t own me! You don’t tell me—“
His hand moves so fast I don’t see it coming and the next thing I know I’m on the floor, the taste of blood in my mouth.
“Don’t talk back to me,” he growls, cracking his knuckles as I shake my head to clear it. He’s hit me before, but never quite like that.
I’m not the same woman as before though, and the fear that floods me now quickly turns to anger. I pick myself up, forcing myself to breathe as my hands shake and my heart beats rapidly. On my feet once more, I face him with my shoulders squared.
“I told you before, you will never hit me—“
His fist lands squarely in the middle of my face, knocking me back against the TV stand. A sharp pain shoots through my hip as the trailer shakes from the impact. A cry escapes my lips and I fall to the floor gasping, the breath knocked clean out of me.
“And I told you not to talk back to me,” he snarls. He takes a step forward and for a moment I think he’s going to kick me. He’s more than powerful enough to seriously hurt me.
As I work to regain my breath, starts still shining before my eyes, he bends over and grabs me by my hair. He yanks my head back until I’m forced to look up at him. Blood is trickling out of my nose.
“You will never leave,” he says, practically spitting the words. “Ever. Do you understand me? I am your husband and you will do as I say. I don’t care how many men you fuck. You are mine.”
“No,” I gasp, reaching up to wipe the blood from my face. “No, I’m not. I’m mine, you son of a bitch.”
I didn’t think it was possible for him to get any angrier, but his face purples and he begins to sputter with rage. For the first time I realize that he might very well kill me. He raises his hand and slowly curls his fingers into a fist. His hand tightens in my hair. I close my eyes, expecting the punch any moment.
But the punch doesn’t come. Instead I hear the trailer door burst open and someone stomp heavily into the room.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” a voice I recognize growls. But no, it can’t be…
It is. It’s him. Sean. He’s standing in the middle of the living room with his hands curled into fists, his chest heaving, the veins in his forearms and neck bulging. He looks angrier than I’ve ever seen anyone, even Tim. He’s sopping wet from the rain. It looks like he walked here. He takes a step towards Tim, his muscles flexing as he clenches and unclenches his fists, the tattoos on his forearm rippling. He glances down at me. I give a slight nod. I’m alright now that you’re here.
“Well, well, well,” Tim laughs, releasing my hair. He runs a hand through his hair, doing his best to act nonchalant though I can see the hesitation on his face. “If it isn’t my wife’s boyfriend. So glad you could make it.”
The two men stare silently at one another. Neither moves. They’re sizing each other up, looking for an opening. It’s so reminiscent of two bears in the wild facing off that I almost want to laugh, though there’s nothing funny about the situation.
A minute passes in awful silence and then another. Finally, Tim sighs and shrugs his leather jacket from his shoulders. He’s shorter than Sean by a good two inches but his arms and chest are just as thick.
“Well,” he sneers, tossing his jacket onto the armchair. He cracks his knuckles and stretches out his neck. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”
36.
Sean
You know how people say that if something can go wrong it will? Well, less than a mile from Sam’s place, just as the rain becomes so thick I’m not even sure I’m on the road anymore, my bike sputters and dies. I manage to pull off to the side of the road just before it shuts down completely. Maybe not my best choice because a moment later my bike is stuck knee-deep in mud.
“Shit, shit, shit!”
There’s no use getting angry though. I know the drill with storms like this in a town like Forton. I’m going to have to wait until the weather calms before I can get a tow. In the meantime, my bigger problem is being stuck with no cell phone (why hadn’t I grabbed it from home?) and the entire kingdom of God raining down on my head.
I sigh and push back my sopping hair from my forehead. Okay, then. Looks like I’m going to have to walk.
I set off down the road, already well past the point of caring about keeping any part of me dry. I’m soaked through and through. It’s a cold rain tonight but my mind hardly notices. I’m too focused on my destination. What if she’s not there? What if she is? Will she want to talk? Will she listen?
I’m so lost in thought I don’t notice when I pass the turnoff leading to her house. It’s only after another twenty minutes of stumbling through the storm that I realize I’ve been walking for far too long.
“Shit!”
With another sigh of resignation, I turn around. This time, I’m extra vigilant. By the time I’ve finally turned onto her country road, the rain has begun to let up. About halfway up the sky to the east, I can just make out the faint glow of the moon hiding behind what remains of the rain clouds. The thunder has moved on now and the lightning flashes are far in the distance.
The closer I get to Sam’s trailer, the faster my heart starts to race. I’ve never been so nervous in all my life, not even when I came across a mother grizzly in the backwoods of Alaska with nothing but a bowie knife and an air horn.
I’m so distracted by the what ifs of the situation that, just like the night I dropped Sam off after our failed dancehall escapade, I don’t notice the extra truck in the driveway. I climb the front steps slowly, muttering to myself the script I’ve outlined on my walk. I raise my hand to knock on the door only to pause when I realize there are people talking inside. I can’t make out what they are saying but I can distinguish Sam’s voice and a man’s who I can only assume is her husband
’s. My first reaction is sadness, and then anger. Of course she’s here with her husband. She’s married!
But something isn’t right. They aren’t just talking. The man sounds angry. His voice is getting louder. Suddenly I hear a yelp and the trailer shakes as something hits the floor. There’s silence. Then the voices again. They are angrier now. Sam is yelling something. Even though her voice is raised I still can’t make it out. I strain my ears to hear but her words are cut off mid-sentence and again something heavy hits the floor and the trailer shakes and Sam cries out in pain.
I don’t need to hear any more. In a second I’ve thrown the screen door open and my hand is on the doorknob. It’s locked. Without a moment’s hesitation, I step back and kick the door open. It gives way easily and I rush inside.
It’s just as I’ve feared. Tim is standing over Sam, his hand twisted in her hair, a sneer on his lips. His face is purple with rage. One look at Sam and I know exactly what has happened. Blood is trickling out of her nose and her left eye is already starting to swell. Tim has his fist cocked, poised to strike again. Sam is cowered with her eyes closed, waiting stoically for the blow. Two suitcases overflowing with Sam’s clothes sit in one corner of the tiny living room.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I growl, taking a step forward. I’m so angry all I can see is red. How dare this man lay a hand on her! How dare he hurt my woman!
“Well, well, well,” Tim drawls, looking up at me with his fist still cocked. He releases Sam’s hair and takes a step back, though his fist does not unclench. Sam’s eyes open and she looks at me, surprise and relief in her eyes. I’m okay, she seems to say. I’m so glad you’re here.
Tim is saying something else but his words don’t register. I don’t care what he has to say. All I know is that he has to pay. And after seeing Sam crumpled on the floor, blood running down her pretty face, it’s going to take everything in me not to kill him.
I break my gaze away from Sam and look back at her husband. I feel oddly calm, though my body is flooded with adrenaline and I’m so angry I can barely stand still. Tim has squared up and is facing me. He knows what is coming. There’s no escaping what comes next.
“Well,” he finally says after a minute has passed and neither of us have moved. He pulls his jacket off slowly and tosses it into the same armchair Sam and I made love in the morning after our first night together. He cracks his knuckles and stretches his neck. I’ve been in enough fights to know he’s pretending and is nervous as hell. Good. He should be. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”
Before the words are even out of his mouth I’m on him.
37.
Sam
They meet in the middle of the room like two grizzlies fighting over a mate. Their collision makes the trailer shake so hard that a glass vase falls off a shelf in the kitchen and shatters.
“You son of a bitch,” Tim sputters. Sean’s got him by the throat and is squeezing so hard that Tim’s face is starting to darken. It looks like the fight’s going to be over in a moment. Already Tim’s hands are weakening as they clasp and claw at Sean’s hands around his throat. Just when I think he’s about to pass out, he twists to one side, at the same time throwing his weight forward and knocking Sean off balance. Sean tries to take a step back but trips over the pile of things I was getting rid of and falls heavily to the ground. Tim pounces on top of him, his fists flying so fast I can’t hardly make them out. Sean grunts and covers his face with a hand but he can’t block Tim’s flurry and I watch as a fist connects squarely with his nose. The blood starts to flow instantly.
Another punch lands and then another. Sean can’t get his hands up in time. One is pinned beneath Tim’s knee. Tim’s knuckles are covered in Sean’s blood. Each time Sean gets hit my body shudders as if I’m the one receiving the blows. My heart fills with fear at the thought of Sean losing. No, I want to scream. No, this can’t be happening!
My worry comes too soon. Even as Tim continues to rain punches down on Sean, Sean raises his knees and plants his feet on the floor. He thrusts his hip upwards as hard as he can, sending Tim tumbling forward over him. Sean flips over and leaps onto Tim’s back. He grabs Tim by the back of the head and slams his face down into the linoleum floor. Tim yelps and the floor cracks. I can’t help but wince. Sean snarls and raises Tim’s head to slam it again but this time Tim is waiting for him. He pushes himself up, at the same time shooting an elbow back and catching Sean squarely in the nose. It’s just enough to loosen Sean’s grip. Sean falls back onto his knees and Tim scrambles out from under him. Blood is now dripping from both men’s faces.
The two men rise wearily to their feet. Sean’s grey shirt is already black with the blood streaming down his chin. Tim sniffs and spits out a mouthful of blood. He wiggles a tooth with his tongue and cracks his knuckles again.
“You will never hurt her again,” Sean growls.
“Fuck you, pretty boy.”
The two come together again, droplets of their blood splattering onto the floor like some awful Jackson Pollock painting. Tim swings but Sean is too quick this time. He ducks under the punch, bringing his fist up at the same time and connecting with my husband’s soft stomach, knocking the wind from him. Tim swings again and again misses as Sean sidesteps and plants a fist against his eye. Tim is sent backwards into the trailer wall, grunting as he slams into it.
“I said you will never hurt her again.”
“And I said fuck you!” Tim screams, launching himself forward with all his might.
But it’s a feint. He pulls back at the last second as Sean reaches forward to meet him. With Sean off balance, Tim grabs Sean’s hand and yanks him forward and down, tripping him. At the same moment, he drives his knee upwards. With a sickening crack it connects with Sean’s jaw and Sean crumples to the floor. He groans and tries to push himself up but Tim rears back a foot and kicks him as hard as he can in the ribs. Sean collapses again. Tim spits out another mouthful of blood and then kicks Sean again, and again, and again, his face twisted into a terrifying grin.
“I’m going to fucking kill you! I’m going to fucking kill you!” he bellows over and over again as he showers Sean with kicks. Sean gasps with each blow. He’s so weak he can’t even protect himself. Soon he’s no longer able to even try to push himself up. His breath is ragged and it sounds like there is blood in his lungs. His feet kick pathetically at the floor, the linoleum around his head smeared with blood.
When he’s satisfied that Sean is fully incapacitated, Tim turns to me. He wipes away the blood from his face with the back of his hand. I’ve never seen him like this. He seems drunk from the fight. Happy even.
“Are you ready to watch your boyfriend die?” he sneers. From his pocket he extracts a pocket knife, the same pocket knife I gave him way back when for our one-year anniversary.
The rain has all but stopped now and for a moment the trailer is filled with an awful silence as my husband’s words slowly sink in.
“Please,” I finally whisper, unable to think of anything else to say. My voice sounds pathetically weak. “Please, don’t. Don’t do this.”
“It’s too late, honey,” he laughs, flipping open the knife. His laugh sends a chill down my spine; he sounds possessed, gleeful, excited. He bends down, grabs Sean’s shoulder and flips him roughly over onto his back. Sean’s eyes are half-closed and rolled back into his head. I can’t tell if he’s conscious or not. His nose is most definitely broken. “You should never have let this man back into your life. It’s your fault he’s going to die. You did this to him.”
Tim reaches down and twists his hand into Sean’s hair, yanking his head up from the floor. Sean groans but otherwise does not move.
“I’m going to slit his throat,” he says, placing the knife against Sean’s neck. He presses down on it and a droplet of blood appears where the tip digs into Sean’s flesh.
With the last of my strength, I push myself up and make a mad grab for my husband’s arm, a sharp pain shooting through my hip a
s I lunge forward. Tim’s last strike seems to have cracked something. But I don’t care. All I care about is stopping him from killing the love of my life, even if it means giving up my own.
“No!” I scream, my nails digging into my husband’s forearm, ripping at his flesh. “No!”
He yelps as I rake my nails across his forearm, blood welling up in their wake. With a roar, he turns and backhands me. The blow is so vicious my head snaps around and for a split second I’m afraid my neck will break.
“You bitch!” he screeches, brandishing the knife at me. “I’ll fucking kill you too!”
He lunges forward and I just manage to twist to one side as the knife scrapes along the inside of my right forearm. I don’t even feel the pain, even as the blood immediately begins to flow. There’s so much of it for a moment I think he’s slit a vein. I fall back gasping as Tim laughs hysterically and takes a step towards me. He’s absolutely mad with bloodlust.
This is it. This is where I die.
I try to scramble backwards away from him but with my hurt hip and my slashed arm I’m quickly losing any strength I have left. I manage to only slide a foot or two before Tim grabs my foot and yanks me back towards him. There’s no escaping him now and he knows it. His eyes are sparkling with madness; he’s practically foaming at the mouth. He towers over me, one hand clenched into a fist, the other clenched around the knife.
“Please,” I gasp, my hand clasped around my forearm. My fingers are warm and sticky with my blood; the smell is making me woozy. “Please…”
“Please,” he mocks. “Please…”
He bends down and grabs a fistful of hair and yanks my head back, exposing my throat. My eye catches an angel figurine on a shelf above me. I breathe deep, knowing that this is the last breath I will ever take. A strange calmness comes over me.
It’s going to be okay. I promise you it will all be okay. Goodbye, Sean, the love of my life. I’m sorry.
Hard Choices: An Erotic Romance Page 14