Torment

by Dahlia Kent

  No. I would be mad I didn’t do it myself.

  My finger paused mid-dial when I heard the apartment door open. My grip tightened around my phone. My concern for Robert’s welfare fled and residual fear from last night pecked at me. Was it Robert, or was it Nicholas’ goons returning to silence me for good?

  Last night I’d planned to go to the police once Robert and I were free, but that was no longer an option. It would mean revealing Robert’s crime and further destroying our lives. But what if they wanted to make sure we wouldn’t talk?

  Maybe they’d already killed Robert and now intended to kill me too?

  That’s ridiculous. They would have killed us both last night instead of letting us go.

  So it was probably Robert finally returning.

  But that didn’t bring me any relief. I would never forget the hatred in his gaze when he said he’d make me pay.

  Call the cops.

  I quickly dialled 9-1-1 instead but I didn’t hit send. Watching the door, I listened to the jingle-thud of keys falling on a hard surface—the walnut credenza where Robert liked to put his keys—then footfalls thumping toward the bedroom.

  It disturbed me how much our lives had drastically changed in just one night. I’d never feared Robert in my life. As I stood here waiting for him, I tried to come up with an escape plan but couldn’t think of any. We were on the fourth floor. There was no way to get out other than through the front door.

  He came to a stop just outside the bedroom. No sound followed. My heart pounded louder in the silence.

  Finally, the bedroom door swung inward and Robert stepped into the bedroom. Our gazes locked, neither of us speaking. He still wore his navy wool suit, his white cotton shirt wrinkled and stained.

  His hair was wilder than ever, the short blond strands pointing in various directions. Shadows lingered beneath his eyes, dark and obvious against his paler-than-usual skin. The grooves at the corners of his eyes and on either side of his nose were more pronounced.

  Robert was forty—ten years older than me. However in this moment he looked a decade older in age.

  There was no anger in his features or hatred radiating from him. Just weariness and defeat in his sagging shoulders. His gaze dropped to the phone in my hand then darted back to my face.

  “Grace.” His voice came out scratchy and broken. He paused and shook his head. Then he met my gaze again, shame in his eyes. “Grace, I’m sorry.”

  Eleven

  —

  Fuck your sorry.

  I said that last night. I wanted to say it again.

  My lips tightened. Nothing pleasant would come out of my mouth if I spoke.

  The silence from the tension stretching between us was unpleasant enough.

  His eyebrows knit together, his lips pulled down at the corners. He dragged a hand through his hair. I felt a tiny nugget of pity for him but I hardened my heart against that feeling.

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I fucked up. I really fucked up. I’m sorry for how I treated you and for the things I said to you.” His chin wobbled and he covered his eyes with a shaking hand. “I’m sorry I made you... with Vidal... I—I betrayed you. I failed you.” He looked at me again, his cheeks damp and an earnest expression on his face. “What I did was awful. Terrible. The worst kind of selfish. I want to make things right. Please, give me the chance to do that, Grace.”

  My grip still firm around the phone, I swallowed, not knowing how to respond. I’d been prepared for another argument, not an apology. Especially one that was so sincere.

  Seemed sincere.

  Don’t believe them when they say the things you want to hear.

  That was what my mother used to say about men. Then she’d retell the oft-repeated tale about how my no-good daddy would promise her he’d leave his wife for her, but never did. How when she told him she was pregnant with me, he said he’d take care of us, but then moved states away and never contacted her again.

  Conflicted, I remained silent as I fought a war inside myself. Robert’s apology and acknowledgement of his horrible act restored a smidgen of the respect I had for him.

  However, I wanted to stay angry at him. I wanted to cling to the outrage because what he did was too abhorrent for me to forgive him so quickly.

  “How are you going to make things right?” I couldn’t soften the bite in my tone. “Did you somehow develop time reversal powers? Or did you learn the recipe for a memory loss potion while you were gone last night?”

  He rounded the bed and came to stand in front of me. The stench of stale sweat and booze clung to him, turning my stomach.

  The last time we stood this close he’d shaken me and raised his hand with intent to hit me. If he tried to hurt me again, I’d have to scramble across the bed to escape him. I edged around him to maintain a safe distance between us and keep a clear shot of the door.

  He frowned and opened his mouth, then snapped it shut and exhaled heavily. His voice was tight when he spoke.

  “I’m going to start by getting back our savings.”

  “How are you going to do that when you still have to pay back the money you stole from work?”

  He winced. “I’m going to pay that back too.”

  “How much money did you steal from your company’s account?”

  His features darkened with discomfort, he dropped his gaze, and he sunk his hands into his pockets. My fury came rushing back. It reminded me of last night when I demanded the truth and he refused to give it.

  “Answer the question, or I swear I’ll pack my things so fast I’ll be a blur on my way out the door.”

  He shuffled his feet then cleared his throat.

  “One hundred and seventy four grand.”

  Stunned, I shook my head. “So why did you owe two hundred grand to Vidal?”

  “Fifteen points for the vig.”

  “What?”

  “Vigorish. Interest. It was fifteen percent. It would have been ten if I paid it on a weekly basis but I couldn’t. So he added five points extra and said I could pay it in a lump sum.” He scowled. “Loan sharks are some fucking greedy sons of bitches.”

  “And yet even though you know that, you still borrowed from one.” I shook my head.

  “Look, don’t worry, OK?” He reached for my hands, but I jerked away from him before he could touch me. He swallowed and dropped his hands at his sides. “I’m going to pay it all back.”

  “Where are you going to find a hundred and seventy grand when you couldn’t even pay back Vidal his one hundred sixty?” I curled my lip. “Don’t tell me—you already have another loan shark in mind you can borrow from. Will you subsequently offer me up to fuck when you can’t pay them back too?”

  “Come on, Grace. That’s uncalled for.” He frowned. “You can’t throw that back in my face after I apologized.”

  I recoiled, appalled. “Excuse me? You think just saying ‘I’m sorry’ is enough for what you did? How dare you try to dictate to me—”

  “OK. OK.” He raised his hands. “I’m sorry. I—I have an idea how I’ll pay back the money, but I can’t tell you the details yet.”

  I shook my head. “Of course. Hiding the truth from me again.”

  “There’s a good reason this time.”

  “That’s what liars love to say. While they’re lying to others, they lie to themselves.”

  He made a sound of frustration and rubbed his hand through his hair. I took another step back from him, my fear spiking. I needed to be more careful. He was unpredictable now that I knew what he was capable of. What he was willing to do to me.

  “I’m not lying. Trust me. I’ll tell you when the time is right.”

  “I don’t trust you, Robert.”

  He flinched. A heavy silence fell between us and the tension thickened. Standing there with his drooping shoulders and the ashamed, despondent look on his face, he appeared like a little boy who had gotten in trouble and didn’t know how he’d avoid the punishment he knew that was coming.<
br />
  The punishment he deserved for doing something inexcusable.

  “Are you going to leave me, Grace?”

  I didn’t expect that question and it made me pause. My gut reaction said to tell him emphatically I had no plans to stick around in a marriage to a man in whom I’d lost respect.

  But I had to consider our situation. Robert and I were married. We didn’t have kids, but our lives were still tightly intertwined. Severing ties wouldn’t be easy and it would disrupt our lives further.

  Marriage wasn’t only about the good times. Sometimes, it required facing trials and tribulations with a life partner. Walking through the fire together and coming out the other side stronger than before.

  Was I willing to walk through the fire with a man I didn’t trust?

  “Are you going to gamble again?”

  He drew closer, his features earnest.

  “I promise I won’t.”

  “And you’ll never raise your hand to me again.”

  He clasped his hands. “Never. I swear.”

  I released a shuddery breath.

  On that exhale, I let go of the anger and welcome the familiar numbness.

  The willingness to pretend and forget.

  Twelve

  —

  The weekend passed uneventfully.

  Robert and I kept to ourselves, although he tried his best to return to my good graces by offering to cook meals. I was relieved when Monday finally arrived. Work would distract me and help me avoid the tension at home.

  Sophia was already at the shop reorganizing a clothing rack by the time I arrived. She gave me a tentative smile and a quick wave. Unwilling to say much, I returned her greeting the same way and headed for my workroom.

  I got out my patterns and unrolled the coral pink cloth on my cutting table. This latest design was a short sleeved dress with a flared skirt and a portrait neckline.

  Fun and flirty, as my client had requested. She was a nice girl in her mid-twenties or so, and one of my rare clients who I still paid home visits because she suffered from agoraphobia.

  Sometimes I wondered why she bothered hiring me to make dresses nobody would ever see. It saddened me her illness chained her to her parents’ home and prevented her from seeing the world.

  But maybe it was safer that way. Her father was a surgeon and her mother a successful event coordinator. They were wealthy and could afford her any comfort she desired.

  She didn’t need to go out in the world where men like Nicholas Vidal existed. Men who would strip her with their eyes, then their hands, then steal her dignity.

  Once again, flashes of that night with Nicholas Vidal attacked me. His voice taunted me. His words a whispered chant in time with each snip of the scissors across the cloth.

  You will never forget.

  A knock on the backroom door startled me. Sophia slipped in, holding a brown paper bag and a cup of coffee.

  “I made a wild guess you didn’t eat breakfast.” She raised the contents in her hand. “Am I right or am I right?”

  The coffee’s delicious scent as well as freshly baked dough hit me. My stomach grumbled in answer.

  “I’m offended by how well you know my bad ways.”

  It felt good to genuinely smile. Despite the emotional whirlwind I’d been through these past few days, humour had been completely absent.

  I removed my measuring tape from around my neck and laid it down atop the cloth. Then I approached Sophia and took the offered treat from her hands.

  “You should take better care of yourself,” said Sophia as I slurped some of the coffee. The hot, bitter liquid energized me the instant it hit my tongue. “You’re not a machine. And even machines need fuel to keep going.”

  I smiled. “I don’t need to when you take such good care of me.”

  “Only because of personal gain.” She grinned. “If you starve to death, then I’m out of a job, and then I starve to death. Who’s going to feed Stinkbutt when I’m gone?”

  I snorted. “I feel sorry for your cat to be saddled with that name.”

  “Don’t be. It’s well deserved.” When our shared laughter died away, Sophia’s amusement faded, replaced with nervous fidgeting. “Grace, you’re not… we’re good, right?”

  “Of course we are.” I frowned. “Why wouldn’t we be good?”

  “On Friday... how I spoke to you...” She rubbed her lips together. “You’ve been distant today and I thought you were still mad at me.”

  What happened Friday night had so consumed my thoughts, I’d completely forgotten about our minor friction the last time we spoke.

  “I was never mad at you, Sophia. I understand why you were uncomfortable. Being asked questions you’re not ready to answer feels invasive and like an attack.”

  Sophia nodded and dropped her gaze.

  “You were right.” Her voice was small and soft. “Kyle did hurt me. But I forgave him immediately after he said he was sorry. I felt so ashamed. I didn’t want you to think I was weak or stupid. That’s why I got so upset when you asked if he hurt me.” Then she met my gaze, her expression fierce. “On Sunday he hit me again and I knew that was it. I called the cops on his ass and threw his stuff out of my apartment.”

  Moved by her revelation and her strength, I hugged her.

  “I’m so sorry that happened. It must have been a difficult experience but you handled it bravely.” I pulled away and rubbed her shoulder. “If you need anything, let me know.”

  “Thanks for the support.” She exhaled then smiled. “So, how did your weekend go?”

  A loan shark fucked me in front of my husband.

  I took a long gulp of my coffee.

  “Robert came home early from his trip.”

  “Aw, that’s nice. He missed you.”

  “I guess so.”

  She peered at me. “Is something wrong?”

  My heart thudded. “Why do you think that?”

  “Your face.” She softened her voice. “For a second you looked really miserable.”

  “Oh.”

  “The offer is the same on my end, you know.” She gave me a meaningful look. “If you need anything… if you need to talk to someone, I’m here.”

  A desperate urge to share the truth with Sophia overcame me. She was the only person I considered a friend. A sad reality, since she was my employee. I basically paid her to be around.

  I wanted to tell her what really happened. But I’d have to tell her the whole story. That Robert had committed a serious crime for which he could be imprisoned if he didn’t fix it as he’d promised.

  Could I trust her with that information? What if she told the police? And if I told her the truth, it would go against my plan to forget what happened and move on.

  Besides, I related with Sophia. I was too ashamed to reveal the truth. That I wasn’t as brave as her. She’d had the courage and good sense to flee an abusive relationship at the earliest signs of trouble. Whereas I remained with my traitorous husband in a desperate attempt to save my marriage.

  A marriage I wasn’t convinced I wanted to save.

  Sophia left and I finished the coffee and bagel. Replenished, I returned to work. I was gathering up the cut sections of cloth when Sophia stuck her head into the room again.

  “Grace, there’s a potential new client out here who wants to speak with you.”

  “OK. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  I finished gathering up the sections and laid them in a neat stack on my machine’s extended desk. I went to the dressing room reserved for clients and neatened my ponytail and checked myself in the floor length mirror.

  As usual, I wore a fitted, button-down shirt, stretchy black pants, and ballet flats. I liked to dress comfortably for work, but I had to balance it with a semblance of professionalism for when clients visited.

  After making sure I looked presentable, I gave myself some mental encouragement to land this new client then strode out to the showroom.

  But the moment I saw who st
ood at the desk, my confidence flew away as fear took its place.

  Nicholas Vidal’s hazel eyes met mine, a smile on his lips.

  “Hello, Grace.”

  Thirteen

  —

  I took a step back, my heart pounding. I voiced the words circling in my head without thinking.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Sophia shifted a curious gaze between us.

  “You two know each other?”

  “Yes.” Nicholas’ smile deepened. “We know each other very well.”

  Too well.

  I darted a nervous glance at Sophia. Her big brown eyes peered up at me, her curiosity morphing into concern. I needed to calm down. Sophia was incredibly intuitive. Behaving strangely would make her worry. Then she might ask more questions I didn’t want to answer.

  I forced a smile and stepped forward despite my deep urge to flee. I consoled myself that at least the desk was between us.

  “I’m sorry for my outburst, Mr. Vidal. You surprised me. How can I help you?”

  “I need to speak with you.”

  There was nothing I wanted to say to or hear from him. Sophia busied herself with clerical tasks, but I knew she was listening to our conversation.

  I indicated behind me. “We can talk in my workroom.”

  He came around the desk. I spun and headed for my workroom. His footsteps tapped behind me, slow and purposeful. I was so aware of him the back of my neck tingled.

  He shut the door and stood in front of it once we were inside. Belatedly, I acknowledged being alone with Nicholas Vidal wasn’t a good idea. I should have suggested we go somewhere public and populated with people.

  Somewhere safe from whatever new evil intention he had in mind for me.

  I faced him and didn’t bother hiding my anger now that Sophia was out of earshot.

  “Why are you really here? You said the debt was paid.”

  “I did.” He smiled. “And you paid it well.”

  Heat rose in my face, mortification and anger coalescing inside me.

  “So you’re here to taunt me.” My fists clenched at my sides. “Because you enjoy humiliating others.”

  “I don’t take joy out of humiliating others, but shame is a necessary tool.”