“No! I didn't mean that!” She clawed frantically at his back, yanking his hair.
“Bitch! You wanna fight? I'll give you the fight of your life!” he growled, grabbing her hands one by one, pinning them above her head and savagely crushed his lips to hers. “Keep your fucking secrets! But don't forget you're all mine!”
* * *
She couldn't stop crying. Her body wracked with violent sobs, her insides on fire. The room was dark, but she felt his presence. Unable to stand it any longer, she slipped out of the bed, ignoring the blood on her legs.
He watched her shadowy image disappear into the bathroom. Sighing, he placed his hands under his head laid back and enjoyed the comfort of the bed. Under normal conditions, he wouldn’t be drowsy after sex. This time it was different, his body drained of all energy. Only 11:00 p.m. Early for him. He fought the urge to doze off.
What’s taking her so long? Lifting himself up on an elbow, he glanced at his phone—11:30 p.m.
Did she sneak out again? Then it dawned on him. Oh, hell no! Not again!
He bolted out of bed, started to the bathroom, then decided against it. Instead he crouched in a dark corner, waiting. He would surprise her, take her, restrain her. This time, she would be sorry.
A few minutes later, he watched her emerge from the bathroom, make a cautious entrance into the bedroom and sneak across the room in the darkness. The faint glint of some kind of object reflected off of her hand. As she started to creep past him, he sprang forward, his arms grasping her body firmly from behind. His hands clamped her forearms flat across her chest. She screamed and dropped the metal object. It clattered to the floor. He kicked it out of reach.
“Not this time, Kristen,” he snickered, his breath hot on her neck.
“You bastard! I am going to kill you!”
She kicked, screamed, thrashed as he lifted her off the ground. He carried her to the bed, flinging her onto it, then ran back to pick up the scissors from the floor. She lay curled under the blanket sobbing when he approached her.
“What were you gonna do this time, slit my throat?” His eyes burned with twisted desire. Yanking the blanket viciously, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and held the scissors to her face.
“Do it, you asshole! End my fucking misery already!” she screamed at the top of her lungs as the tears spilled down her face.
With a loud groan, he shoved her back against the bed. “Fuck you! I'm not getting locked up because of you! You're the stupid one!” He lowered the scissors, peering down at her. His eyes softened “What's wrong with you?”
She glanced up at him. “What's wrong with me? You rape me and ask me…” she buried her face in the pillow, sobbing.
“I didn't rape you! You're my wife, you wanted it.” He snickered, stroking her hair.
She slid to an upright position. Her mouth dropped wide in astonishment, she shook her head. “You really believe that, don't you? You think you own me! You're fucking unbelievable!”
“I never said that.” His gleaming eyes, told the truth.
“Yes you did! I told you I can't have sex yet, and you forced me! Don't even touch me!” She slapped his hands away, rolling onto her side into a fetal position.
“If it wasn't for Alex, I would slit your throat! You know that?” She bolted upright again, her face bright red with anger. “You deserve it!”
Struck by a strange mixture of amusement and shock, a strained smile played on his lips. The sight of her face right in his, her eyes alive with hate and challenging became unbearable. Aroused beyond belief, he fought the urge to throw her down and screw her again.
“Thanks. It's great to know you love me.”
She sucked in her lips, looking away. He watched her closely, his eyes glimmering.
“You hate me that much?” He took the opportunity, hovering closer.
Little tremors trickled through her body as she stared at him in silence. Holding her face gently, he kissed her long and deep, sucking every bit of willpower, energy and motivation out of her. When he let her go there was nothing left but unendurable numbness.
* * *
She had no idea how much time had passed. The first thought in her mind, she was trapped in a nightmare, vanished as soon as she realized the stabbing pains in her stomach were real. Even when she turned on her side and crushed the pillow against it, they were excruciating.
Wait! The deep breathing technique... it’s supposed to ease the pain.
It didn’t. Logan's peaceful breaths continued breaking her concentration.
“Logan, Logan…wake up!” She poked and pushed him.
“What?” he grumbled refusing to open his eyes. She didn't let up until he did. “What's wrong?”
“I don't know. My stomach, it's killing me.” She collapsed on the bed, curling up in a ball, her face contorted in pain.
Groaning, he turned on the lamp. Her chalk-white face startled him.
Shit! Why does this always have to happen?
“Should I get you something?” Her violent shivers shook the bed. He tossed a second blanket on top of her.
“I don't…know. Maybe... the hospital.” She fought to get the words past her chattering teeth.
A look of panic crossed his face.
What if it is because of the sex? No—it’s not my fault.
Pushing the idea out of his head, he crawled out of bed to get dressed. It was 1:00 a.m.
* * *
The intercom blasted, jarring her awake. The disorientation was so overpowering, she couldn't remember what happened or where she was. Then the gradual replay of events began in her head. The vague recollection of rushing to the hospital. The pain. The blood. She tensed her arms, desperate to push herself up. A sharp pinch in her hand forced her eyes down to the intravenous needle jutting out of her vein.
I can’t believe this! Why can’t I just die?
She slumped back against the pillow, too exhausted and miserable to sob. Logan slowly came into focus. Squinting her eyes, she stared at him, struggling to put the pieces together. Hot tears trickled down her face.
This is all his fault. I am back in the hospital because of him.
“Where's Alex?” Sitting hurt too much. She gave up and fell back onto the pillow.
Shocked, his eyes popped open. His instincts told him to flee, the whole situation too much for him to handle. He didn’t want to answer, but the words slipped out. “He's still in that intensive care place.”
A flicker of recognition sparked her eyes before they closed again.
“Is he okay?” she whispered, pulling the blanket up higher around her head, unwilling to let his voice or image continue to poison her. The touch of his hand sent chills through her aching body. “I need to see him!” She began sobbing.
“Kristen, please... calm down, he's fine. Worry about yourself—”
“—Like you? You did this to me!” Her eyes flew open.
Repelled by her words, he inched back, his nervousness increasing the longer he absorbed the hate burning in her eyes.
“You forced me…” her words choked in her throat.
Bending down next to her, he resorted to pleading. “Please, Kristen, please don't say that.” His eyes darted to the closed door. “Do you want me to get arrested?”