by K. S. Kamat
Silence wasn’t going to help me here, so I pleaded. “Sorry. I’m sorry, Alex.”
I heard his leather belt jiggle, and watched as he coiled the length around his hand. I braced myself for the impact of the leather cutting through me. The pain shot up my nerves, hit after hit, until I lost count. Alex then bolted out of the door paying no heed to my pleading and returned with a cane.
I shuddered.
That son of a bitch wasn’t done with me yet. In fact, he was just getting started. I shook my head towards him as I scooted back towards the far corner of the room. The dress was tattered and blotched with dark coffee stains. Goodbye, Louis Vuitton. Maybe it was time to say goodbye to Emily Maxwell, too? I didn’t care about myself, but what about my son?
Everything happens for a reason.
David’s tattoo had a special significance. His wife who’d died after a prolonged illness had given him hope, and a reason to go on. She believed that everything in life happened for a reason. I was in the hospital when he held hands with her while she took her last breaths. She’d looked at the both of us like she wanted us to read her mind. Next thing I knew he’d appeared a month later with the script tattooed on his wrist.
A strong whip of herculean strength brought me back to reality. I continued to apologize to Alex for a mistake that wasn’t mine. I kept pleading him to stop but the whipping stopped only after he had a cane ready in his hand, which cut through my flesh like a bitch. I continued to sob. The beatings halted for a moment when another muffled sob apart from mine filled the room. Eric appeared to be standing in the doorway, shivering.
“Daddy…” Eric stuttered in-between sobs. “Please don’t hit, mommy. Please.”
“Your mommy is cheating on me.” Alex pointed the cane accusingly at me.
“He is only five years old.” A harsh blow knocked me down on the floor again. Eric cried harder.
“Your mom deserves punishment for the wrong that she has done. You receive punishment in school, don’t you, son? This is just the same. Mommy needs to learn some manners.”
I would surely fail as a mother if Eric took after Alex. What if he grew up to be the mirror version of this man? I wouldn’t be alive, but there would be another girl in my place. Eric would tell his friends in school about how his father beat his mom until she screamed, because it was punishment and the right thing to do. He wet the bed in the mornings, but he would grow up to learn his father’s ways. I tried running away from this hell numerable times only to drive back into this pit again. Alex was a powerful man, powerful enough to drive my father into bankruptcy or even hire a hit-man. You think I want to mess with that? I even tried swallowing a few sleeping pills but never played along. For one, who would look after my son if I’m gone? And two, I didn’t have the balls for suicide.
I remained numb on the floor until the abuse stopped. Alex was a sadist and he loved it when I screamed and begged him to stop. That bastard was turned on. I heard the bedroom door close and that’s when I knew the nightmares for the day were over. Kate, the housekeeper, who’d been watching the show silently from the sidelines, brought a first aid-kit to help me band-aid the bruises.
She applied some cream on the burns and whispered. “You’re going to be alright soon.”
I nodded in agreement. “Yes. I will. Probably when I’ll be nailed shut in a coffin.”
Kate was appalled, but she didn’t utter another soothing word. She knew that the odds of me lying in a coffin were greater.
****
The body pain began to subside a few days later. A limp stopped me from walking normally. Kate informed me I had a guest waiting at the door. One glance in the mirror and I looked like shit, but Kate insisted it was important. I managed to conceal the marks with a quick dab of make-up before I opened the door.
“David, what are you doing here?”
David pushed the door farther as he stepped inside without waiting for me to invite him in. “What did he do to you?”
“It’s..it’s…”
He grasped my chin. I flinched and yelped in agony. David stared. Dread filled those icy green eyes. His breathing came off as erratic. He grabbed for my arms and examined them thoroughly. “It’s my entire fault he hurt you.”
“Who told you about this?”
“Eric told Cole.” That explained it. He regarded me with concern and pulled out a little velvet box out of his denim pocket. “For you.”
“What’s this?” I asked.
He urged me to open it. With deft hands I pulled the soft lid open. It revealed a thin platinum chain. The pendent is what caught my attention, two beautiful birds leaving a round cage of delicate style. I touched the intricate patterns on the wings.
“Do you know the significance of it?” David asked me as he slipped the chain around my neck.
“No.”
“It’s freedom.” He said simply. “You are like the caged birds, Em. And I want to free you. Please let me.”
I was overcome by a whirlwind of emotions. A sob welled up from somewhere deep within me. The flood gates opened as I burst into tears. David pulled me in an embrace, caressing my back softly. “I’m here for you, Em. I’ve always been. Why didn’t you tell me anything?”
I continued to soak his shirt as he held me until I had no more tears left. “Just take me far away from here.”
I glanced up to look at his face. I didn’t miss the tormented look in his eyes. It glistened with unshed tears. He slowly peeled down the fabric off my shoulder to reveal the nasty bite marks. David shut his eyes and a tear trickled down when he opened them.
“Son of a bitch.” Both of us turned to the owner of the voice. Alex stood in the doorway, like a bull waiting to strike the red flag. “Get your hands off my wife!”
“Em, come on.” David told me. “Go get Eric.”
Alex let out an irritated growl as he lunged at me, but David drew him back at the right time. His fist collided with Alex’s jaw followed by a series of inhumane bone cracking punches. I wish I had a pom-pom so I could cheer for David. I ran up the marble staircase and pulled Eric out of bed.
“Where are we going, Mom?” Eric suppressed a yawn. I carried him up in my arms.
“Away from this nightmare.”
I didn’t bother about the clothes or my belongings. I just wanted to be out of that godforsaken place. I found Alex hunched on the floor, moaning. I knew he wasn’t dead yet since he passed me his signature death glare. “You’re not taking my son anywhere.”
“Watch me.”
David had his hand reaching out for me. Our eyes met for a brief moment. “You trust me, right?”
I nodded as I slipped my hand in his.
“We’ll see you in court, Alexander.” David chuckled. There was a trail of blood at the corner of his mouth that he wiped with the back of his hand. “Or maybe in jail. I’ll tell them to treat you good, good enough for you to want out.”
****
A few months later, Alexander Maxwell stood for trial in court. No matter how many witnesses agreed to have watched me get abused, Alex remained latched onto the original story. He kept insisting he was innocent. His attorney Claudia Moore cooked up a new saga. David and I had a laugh later that day. Moore told the judge that I was a gold digger and that this was all a well executed plan, sketched out by my partner in crime and lover with whom I spent most of my nights with, Dr. David Hart.
After all those years of being trampled on and told by my beloved husband about how women were the dirt below his feet, it was comical to watch a lady fight his case after the gibberish anti-feminism talk.
Moore’s theories had been blown off when Eric Maxwell walked into the witness’s box. No matter how much he wanted the PS4 console and how excited he was that his father was going to get it for him, he spoke the truth. Eric said mommy was punished almost every day. He even told the judge what Alex said. I wish I had cotton balls. The child’s theories were proven right when the jury saw the scars all over my body. The judge
declared his decision. Alexander Maxwell was found guilty of all charges, but that did not change Alex’s statements. He continued to plead, Not Guilty. He was going to abandon those posh Armani suits for an orange jumper. The thought made me grin.
A year later after my divorce with Alex, I married David. Eric was delighted about having Cole turn from being his best friend into a brother. I’d still wake up screaming at night asking Alex to stop hitting me. Only to find myself in the safe arms of the man I loved. Without David I was hopeless and even helpless. It was because of him that I had the strength to stand up against Alex. Our combined strength is what urged me to go on and take that hand of freedom that David had offered me that day.
Everything happens for a reason. It’s true.
Hope
I looked at the apartment where I’d spent my entire childhood; all our belongings and the things that made it seem home were gone. Now, it didn’t look like my home at all. More like an empty shell of an apartment.
I handed Mrs. Wharton the keys. She was a nice person who smelled like coffee and nostalgic body-wash. That brought back memories of my grand mom. Mrs. Wharton’s granddaughter scurried into the place with her toys. I smiled. Moving away from the place where you literally grew up to be a woman was the worst part, but we were leaving for good this time. When I say we, I mean my dad and I. Also, the little baby that was growing inside me.
My father and I had been living off his retirement pensions for a while, until we realized that, that wasn’t going to be enough. I kind of felt guilty for not being much of a help where financial resources were concerned; to top it off I realized I was pregnant. Being a single twenty year old unmarried pregnant woman wasn’t easy. The pain and the suffering were horrible for me to live in same city and remind myself of what had gone wrong. My dad sold the apartment and decided to move into a quaint Castle Coast town.
Two things were on my list.
Find a decent job and start over.
So here I was, unloading all my stuff into the little house that was cheaper and larger. There were advantages of not living in the city. I already liked this place; it was nice, cozy, too many trees, greenery, rivers, lakes, wolves howling at midnight, peeping toms for neighbors.
So far, so good.
I spent days circling the classified sections for newspapers, finding jobs that were suitable for a twenty year old. So far, I had no luck.
“You gonna be fine, sweetheart?” My father asked me.
“Yes, dad.” I answered as I pulled on a purse, “There’s a different kind of thrill when you do job hunting by foot.”
I grinned, and he sighed glancing at my mid-section. “I knew you were a weird kid. Just don’t wander around too long.”
****
It was noon, and I hadn’t been in luck where job hunting was concerned, so I decided to stop by for some iced tea. Timmy’s was a cute little café, nothing fancy. I ordered for an iced tea and a slice of chocolate cake. Not a fantastic combination, but my dad was always right. I was weird. The whiff of bacon made me want to hurl up. Some people even offered me welcome to the town comments and friendly smiles. One day in, and I was already liking this place. I started to stop by the café every once in a while, the regular patrons and the owner had started to exchange small talk with me, too.
It was Sunday and I was busy circling another classified section.
“Hey, Rachel.” The waitress, Amy, greeted me, “More iced tea?”
I nodded at her.
“How’s your job hunting going?” she asked.
“Not so great.” I grumbled.
The café bell dinged which snapped us out of our conversation momentarily. A man in worn out jeans and an extra worn out t-shirt walked into the café. On first glance, I could’ve easily pegged him as a soccer player or a wrestler. I could bet my entire property on it. Not that I had a lot. His dark wavy hair was long, curled close to his t-shirt collar and framed his handsome face perfectly. His gruff jaw was covered with a slight beard and a moustache. Those pools of deep blue scanned the café and briefly found mine for about a second. He spotted a seat that was one table down from mine.
I continued to chant, Babe. Babe. Babe.
Amy sniggered, “You’re drooling in your own iced tea.”
I closed my mouth. “Who’s that man?”
“James Price.” She whispered. Taking a quick glance at his booth, she continued, “Whacko.”
“What makes you say that?”
“He is the rumor boy of our town. Kind of a big shot before stuff went spiral for him. No one knows where he came from; just that he’s antisocial. Deranged, I might add. Never likes to talk to anyone. Maybe he thinks he is too good for any of us. Hypocrite should be the word.” Amy whispered apologetically. Then quickly she added, “Well, who am I to pass judgment on people? Maybe he is going through hard times. Maybe he likes to remain in his hermit shell.”
I did notice something very peculiar about that man when he entered the café, like he didn’t want to be noticed at all. He had the whole come within two meters and die kind of aura going around him. Dangerous and risky.
“What happened to him?” I asked out of curiosity, even though I avoided gossip like a plague.
“Some people say he is just crazy. No one knows for sure.” She spared a glance at him and back as she whirled her finger. “Screw loose.”
I was shocked when she said he was deranged. He seemed anything but that. Then again, what do I know about people? People always pegged the silent types as the ones having the mind of a devil. That was mostly true.
“Just ignore him and you’d live.”
“You think I could join your Gossip club?”
Amy laughed. And the short pot belly owner called out her name like it was a curse word. “Oops! Gotta get back to work. I’m guessing you’re in need of a new friend. So, in case you are, just call me and join me on Saturday.” She grinned.
“Thanks Amy. What’s on Saturday?”
“Just me havin’ fun. I could use company.”
I mirrored her grin. “Awesome. I’ll join you.”
“By the way, there’s one job vacancy still available.” She passed me a smug smile that told me she was just teasing.
“I’m desperate and game for it. What kind of job?”
Amy leaned in, “James needed a caretaker. I’m not sure what kind of caretaker, but he’s wanted one since the past six months now.”
“And?”
“And no one wants the job. Not a single person from town who’s in the right mind.”
“Uh-huh.” I nibbled on the cake. “Should I take it?”
Amy gave out a dry laugh, eyeing my swelling midsection, “I was kidding, Rachel. I don’t think that’s a good idea, and worth the risk. Unless, you’re one of those daredevil who’s looking for a thrill.”
I smiled, “I’m always up for a challenge.”
“Don’t be stupid. He could be that guy from the House of wax.” She shuddered.
We watched as the hottie made his way out of the café. The pot belly owner had a spatula raised in Amy’s direction like it was an axe, “Get your pretty ass to work, Amy.”
“Later.” She called out as she retreated towards the kitchen.
I sipped onto the remains of my tea, scraped the remains of the chocolate sauce off my plate and licked the fork when I noticed a male’s black wallet left on the table. He wouldn’t have gone far. I walked towards the object and picked it up. I was almost tempted to open and check for the contents, but I really wasn’t the kind of person who’d do that. I thanked Amy and stormed out of the café. He shouldn’t have gone far. I walked in the direction I’d watched him go and spotted the man, taking slow steps away from the café.
“Excuse me?” I started to walk towards him.
“Hey.” I called out, but he couldn’t hear me at all.
I jogged faster and called out to him again. “You left your wallet.”
He turned to face me slowly, and
I became aware of just how tall and muscular he was. I was surprised how young he seemed, probably in his early thirties. Beneath all the blood-shot eyes and a scary aura was a man who might have normally been more on the popularity side if he’d worked more on his appearance. I handed him his wallet. His expressions were dubious, but he refused to say a word. He took it from my hand, inspected the wallet like it was a time bomb, glanced back at me and resumed walking again.
Weird much?
“Uh…Mr. Price?”
He stopped when he heard his name and turned.
“I was wondering if the helper job is still available.” I swallowed. I was so desperate for a job that I had to literally beg some man the townies stayed away from.
Nice social circle, Rach, real nice.
He took out a paper, wrote down something on it and handed it to me. His expressions remained impassive. It was his home address. I grinned, “Thanks.”
Gosh. Does the man talk?
****
I figured James Price’s house was within walking distance from mine. I didn’t need to look for directions. As soon as I asked a wary looking woman, she pointed me in the right direction and looked at me like I was crazy to ask for his house.
At first glance, the house didn’t look shady, in fact the very contrary. It was beautiful, the gravel driveway lined with trees and a lake on the opposite side of it. It was a large property.
I knocked on the door. “Mr. Price?”
I knocked some more which was when the door opened. James stood in the doorway, wearing nothing but a cut off denim and one of his signature impassive masks. I smiled. He didn’t.
“I’m Rachel Winters.” I introduced myself, this was awkward. “I’m here to talk about the caretaker’s job.”
He nodded and indicated for me to follow him inside. I swallowed. “I..I…we can talk from here.”
“I don’t kill anyone for a living and neither do I skin them alive.” His voice was like silk, husky and so sexy, but his face remained serious.
“I thought you didn’t talk.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
“But, the townies...?” I shut my mouth. He didn’t need to know what people talked about him behind his back.