by Kat Savage
I sat down in the chair and watched, ready to stab him with the closest object I could get my hands on if I didn’t like what he was doing or saying. He sat down beside her on the couch and gently rubbed her cheek. Her eyes fluttered a bit and finally opened. The look on her face went from half asleep to confused in a second and I could see the tears in her eyes starting to well up again. I curled my fingers into the upholstery of the chair arm.
“You left,” she said.
“I know,” he said.
“Why?” she asked, choking back tears.
“I’ll admit I didn’t handle the news well. I completely freaked out. I needed some air,” he said, hanging his head.
“When people want air, they go outside. They don’t get in their car and leave,” she snapped.
“I know, I know. I didn’t mean it. I have no idea what I was thinking. I didn’t even know where I was going until I got there,” David said. He pulled a small box from his jacket pocket.
“What is it?” she asked as he handed it to her.
“Open it,” he said.
Emma pulled the ribbon strings off and opened the lid. She gasped and covered her mouth. Inside was a charm bracelet with a single charm dangling from it. It was a heart that said “Mom”.
“I know I shouldn’t have just left. I know that. I got in my car and started driving and didn’t even know why I was doing it. I just freaked out. I started wondering if I was going to be a good father, if I was going to do everything right. All these things started flying through my head and I just…I don’t know.” He dropped his chin and I could hear him start to cry a little, the way men do when they have genuinely messed something up.
Emma sat there for a moment, staring at the gift, staring at her crying husband. She pulled his chin up and looked him in the eyes. “Promise me you’ll never do that again,” she whispered.
“I promise,” he said, wiping under his eyes.
“It’s not just you and me anymore. We are going to be a family. A whole family,” she said, starting to smile. He reached over to hold her and I heard them both crying for a moment.
“David?” she said.
“Yes?” he said.
“You’re going to be an amazing father. I don’t want you to ever worry about that.” She smiled.
He smiled back and hugged her again. “Let’s go home,” he said.
I sat here, watching the whole thing. I started crying when they cried. I smiled when they smiled. Now I sat here, holding my stomach and not understanding what that kind of love felt like. I envied what they had in the best way possible.
I stood to hug them goodbye and threatened David’s life one last time for good measure. I was glad it worked out, that their story had a happier ending than I had feared. I was excited for them. And at the same time, a tiny bit jealous of my friend. I don’t find jealousy to be as negative of an emotion as people claim. It wasn’t so much that it went unchecked. It wasn’t so much that it would cause any issues. But in the back of my mind, I remained slightly jealous of all she was about to experience. But Emma deserved this happiness. And I would be there for her every step of the way. I had sort of gotten lost in my thoughts when I heard my phone ding again. Oh, right, I dropped it on the floor. I started looking around where I thought it had landed and heard it ding again. Probably Samuel worried again, I laughed.
I got down on my hands and knees and reached under the edge of the couch. I felt it under my fingertips and sat back on the heels of my feet to read his messages. Only they weren’t from him.
Your friend looked much happier leaving than when she arrived.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The day before Jeff left me, I was at the farmers market picking out fresh fruits and vegetables. I picked up a juicy Gala apple and my phone dinged. I placed the apple in my basket and pulled my phone out of my pocket. There was a text message from an unknown number.
Text: Why are you here?
Me: Who is this?
Text: Answer the question.
Me: Um…why am I where?
Text: At the market.
Me: Who are you? You’re watching me?
I started to frantically look around at the crowds but no one stuck out to me and very few people seemed to be actively on their phone.
Text: Just answer my question.
Me: I’m getting fruit.
Text: Do you love your husband?
I looked down at my wedding band.
Me: Please, who is this? It’s not funny.
Text: You should pay for your things and go back to your car.
At this point, I was so frightened, I didn’t know what to do. I dropped the basket on the counter and rushed apologies as I ran toward my car. I kept looking in all different directions trying to make sure someone wasn’t following me.
I got into my car and locked the doors, looking around.
Text: Why are you scared?
Me: Please leave me alone.
Text: I can’t do that.
Me: Why?
Text: Because you belong to me. And even after you leave, you will still be mine.
I put my car in drive and ignored the texts. I drove home as fast as I could. When I pulled into the driveway, I waited to get out. I peered down the street in both directions and checked my rearview mirror. I got out of the car and into my house in record time, locking the doors behind me. I went into the kitchen and living room, checking all the windows and the patio doors. Everything was locked. I sat there, heart pounding, hands gripped around my phone. Ding.
Text: Welcome home.
My throat immediately went dry. I looked up and saw Jeff standing there in the door frame, smiling. No. Smirking. He was smirking.
“It was you?” I asked in disbelief.
“I need you to understand something, Delilah,” he said, putting the phone in his pocket.
I gulped as hard as I could. He shifted from one foot to the other. I couldn’t place the look on his face, what it was, what was behind it. I was shaking, waiting.
“You belong to me, Delilah. Do you understand that? I need you to understand that even if I’m not here, you still belong to me. I need you to understand that no matter where you go or what you do, I will know about it. I will keep my eyes on you,” he said. His voice was so stiff, so rigid.
“I understand,” I said.
“Do you? I’m starting to wonder. You always seem so surprised but you shouldn’t be. You really shouldn’t be. You will belong to me until the day you die. No one can take you away. Even if I’m not around. You need to know that,” he said.
I didn’t understand all of this “even if I’m not here” business and didn’t want to. “I do know that,” I whispered. Sometimes it was better to just nod along than try to argue, resist, or ask questions. Sometimes it made him leave me alone if I simply complied.
“Good. Then we have an understanding,” he said, walking away to his office.
I ran upstairs to our bathroom and locked the door. I sobbed on the floor. He’d gone mad. Absolutely mad. That was the first moment I was actually scared in a way where I feared for my life, for what he might do if I tried to leave. I sat there on the floor crying for a few minutes and collected myself together. I unlocked the door and went to open it when it suddenly shoved back against my hand. I stepped back out of the way, eyes wild.
The next thing I knew, I was bent over the sink, Jeff behind me. He had a fist full of hair holding me there.
“See, I didn’t really think you understood downstairs so I wanted to be clear,” he said in my ear.
“Jeff, please, I understand. I do,” I pleaded but it was too late. I heard the dangling of his belt, the unzipping of his pants behind me. He laid my head down flat against the counter.
“Do not move,” he said. I froze, petrified of what would happen if I did. I felt him reach around and unbutton my pants. He ripped them down in one motion. He ripped my panties down the side and they fell to the floor. I heard him spit int
o his hand and felt him slide it from the front of me to the back. It was quick and violent. There was no love there.
“If you make a noise, we start over,” he said. I cried silently. I didn’t make a sound. It hurt. Not just physically but in a way where you fear you may never trust anyone ever again. In a way where you worry that everything you think you know was wrong. In a way that made you feel so lonely, you would never recover. It hurt in a way that left scars on the inside of me and I might never feel pretty or whole again.
That was the last time Jeff raped me. When I found his note the next day, I cried. Then I got angry for crying. I should have been relieved that he was gone but that didn’t come until after the initial wave of sadness. I wasn’t sad that he was gone, necessarily, just that any of this had happened to begin with. Sad that our marriage had unraveled in this terrible, violent way. Sad because the ache left in its wake may never subside. The sadness turned to anger. I was angry at myself for feeling any kind of sadness. I was angry at him. I was angry that I had been robbed of so many things in so many ways. Things I might never get back.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It’s strange, the memories that will suddenly flash before you when you’re faced with this sort of terror. If I suspected it before, this definitely confirmed it. Someone had been watching me. Given the history, it wasn’t unreasonable to suspect it was Jeff. He could be fucking with me. He could be here to get back at me for the other day with Samuel.
I peered out into the front yard between my blinds. There didn’t seem to be much happening on the street. I didn’t notice any unfamiliar cars. I walked over to the front door and double checked to make sure it was locked. I ran to the back door in the sunroom to make sure that was locked, too. Wow, that’s a lot of easily breakable glass. I looked all around my backyard through to the tree line but saw nothing. Most of the trees were bare at this point so it wasn’t hard to look through the first few of them.
I checked every window in every room before circling back to the kitchen for a knife. I sat it next to my phone on the coffee table and checked the front door again. I sat on the couch and tried to relax my body just a little. I sank deep into the cushions and laid my head back to find myself aimlessly staring up at the ceiling. Should I call the police? But what did I really have? A text message from an unknown number wasn’t going to give them anything to go on. What would they really do? Have a cop car babysit my house maybe? Doubtful. Should I text Samuel? What would I say? I grabbed my phone.
Me: Samuel?
Me: You awake?
Nothing. He’d probably fallen asleep earlier given the events of the day. It was getting pretty dark out by now and despite my nap and the rush of adrenaline I’d gotten after the text, I was feeling pretty tired myself. I really needed to stay awake though. Coffee! I walked into the kitchen, grabbed the coffee from the cabinet, and started making some. This entire scenario was leaving me too alone with my own thoughts. Why would someone be watching me? If it was Jeff, what was the point? Maybe he was too scared to show his face because of what Samuel said to him. And if he was scared of Samuel, why would he be risking it? Maybe he’s been waiting until he knew I was alone? I shook the thoughts from my head. This was going to make me insane.
That last thought made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I could feel a wave of chills run over me. If he was waiting until I was alone, that could only mean one thing. I sat at the kitchen table and sipped my coffee, gripping another knife with my free hand. I sat here trying not to think anymore. I sat here asking myself over and over again if I was capable of stabbing someone even if I needed to. I really hoped I didn’t have to find out. Calm down, Delilah. Nothing has even happened.
After sitting here tapping my fingers for a few more minutes and finishing my coffee, I started pacing in the living room. It was hard to be still when you were this worked up. Ding.
Text: I hardly think a knife is necessary.
Me: Who is this? Seriously, my boyfriend should be here any minute.
Text: I doubt that.
Me: How would you know?
Text: Because he’s still at home.
They’ve been watching Samuel, too? What the fuck was happening? This is like one of those thriller slasher movies where someone pops out of the closet now.
My eyes frantically searched the room, down the hall, out the back windows looking for answers. There was just nothing. I saw nothing. I heard nothing, not even dogs barking, birds, or wind in the trees. It was eerily silent. I sat back down on the couch feeling defeated. I stared up at the ceiling again, taking deep breaths to calm myself. I felt my grip on the knife relax. I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing. I felt a strange calm wash over me. Something happens after a rush of adrenaline. Your body calms, your mind calms, and I didn’t know if maybe it was some sort of self-preservation mode but it was impossible to fight. I flashed back to a memory of when I was about eight. I could hear someone trying to break into our house. They were pushing and pulling on the door. I pulled my blanket up over my head, frozen in fear. I couldn’t manage to work up the courage to run down the hallway to my parents’ room. All I remember is waking up some time later. I had fallen asleep in the midst of this panicked moment. I never understood why or how I could do that at such a time. But here I was again, falling asleep in the midst of this strange and frightening situation. I couldn’t even fight it.
I dreamt of a little girl, sitting on my porch stoop, crying. I just watched her from my doorway. I didn’t try to reach out for her or ask her what was wrong. I just kept watching her. She didn’t look injured and I didn’t see anything wrong. I don’t know why I didn’t reach out to her. She looked back at me with black eyes.
“Delilah.” The little girl’s mouth didn’t line up with the sounds.
I tilted my head at her.
“Wake up, Delilah,” she said.
Something was wrong. She wasn’t really saying these things. The voice speaking wasn’t coming from her. I felt so confused.
“Delilah. Wake up, Delilah,” the voice said.
I shot up from sleep, opening my eyes. I looked around my living room, trying to take everything in all at once. As the sleep fog lifted and my eyes started to adjust, they settled on the figure sitting in my chair. It was just an outline at first and then the details began to come through. It was a woman. Who the fuck is that?
“Hello, Delilah,” she said. She had long blonde hair and crystal blue familiar eyes. Somehow, I knew them. Not really her, just her eyes. I followed her arms down to see her hands resting on her lap.
“Who are you and what are you doing in my house?!” I said, fear in my voice but I tried to sound stern.
She looked at me, studied me up and down. “I’ve been watching over you for a very long time, Delilah. I want to be your friend,” she said, tilting her head to the side. She stared at me with a sort of madness in her eyes.
“My friend?” I asked, confused. I shook my head and rubbed my temples.
“Yes,” she said.
“Friends don’t break into your house. Are you the one who has been texting me? Friends don’t do that either!” I raised my voice a bit, hoping to get a reaction but she was stone cold still. Her overwhelming sense of calm frightened me the most. She didn’t move a muscle. She just kept looking at me and smiling the creepiest smile I’d ever seen.
“Well, I’m not sure you would have accepted me any other way,” she said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Let’s just say had our paths crossed in a conventional way, we probably wouldn’t be so close right now,” she said.
“So close? We aren’t close. I don’t even know who you are,” I said.
“My friends call me Mare,” she said.
“Mare? Okay, Mare. What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I already told you. We are going to be friends. For at least a little while anyway,” she said.
“What if I don’t want to be your friend
? And what do you mean by a little while?” I asked as my hands frantically searched around the couch for my phone and the knife.
“Are you looking for these?” she asked, holding my phone in one hand and the knife in the other. She threw the knife into the fireplace. I had started a fire earlier. Shit.
“Give me my phone,” I demanded.
“I can’t do that.” She shook her head.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because you will call the police and it will ruin everything,” she said.
The way she looked at me shot fear up my spine. Mare pulled herself to the front of the chair before lifting off. I hadn’t noticed it while she was sitting but as she stood, a plump round belly began to protrude. I watched as she cupped her hand around the bottom. I felt my own hand curl around me.
“Do you want to feel her kick?” she asked.
“No,” I said.
She tilted her head with both confusion and understanding. “Some other time then,” she said, smiling.
“Look, I don’t know what you want, but I really would like you to leave,” I insisted.
“I told you I can’t,” she said. “Would you care to chat with me?” she asked.
“Not really,” I hissed.
“Just listen then. This is important.”
I sank back into the couch, attempting to get myself as far away from her as I could. She started pacing in front of the mantel as if she were trying to choose her words very carefully. She took slow, deliberate steps. I waited.
“I think it’s important for you to understand the truth about who I am. I’m Jeff’s new wife. I know this may come as a shock to you. I apologize for that. I just thought you should know. It’s only fair,” she said, looking at me as if she were waiting on a response.
I remained silent.
“I also think it’s important for you to understand that he doesn’t know I’m here or that I have been watching over you. In fact, he probably wouldn’t be very happy about it. I know he came to see you the other day. He doesn’t know I know that either. But I’m carrying his child now, and well, it was important for me to keep tabs on everyone. I think I have a right to. I’m sure you understand?”