I suppress a frustrated sigh. His false solicitousness frays my nerves.
“With older children,” Ms. Darling says, “we interview them on their own, but since Sarai is a baby I’ll just need to examine her.”
“This is ridiculous,” I mutter, fury bubbling under my skin. “I haven’t done a thing to hurt her, and these accusations are completely unfounded.”
“Of course they are, babe,” Caleb says soothingly. “So we just get this over with. Ms. Darling is simply doing her job.”
He reaches to brush the hair back from my shoulder, and I flinch. His eyes narrow, but the smile he offers is a thick pomade smoothed over his anger, slicking back his displeasure.
“May I see her?” Ms. Darling extends her arms, and it takes everything in me to hand Sarai over to her. I know she won’t find any marks or bruises, but this process is humiliating. I’m adding it to the list of things I’ll never forgive Caleb for.
Caleb and I watch as Ms. Darling lays Sarai on the couch and strips her clothes off, leaving her in only her diaper. Tears sting my eyes while she combs my baby girl’s plump little arms and legs for marks I’m supposed to have left on her. The painful irony is that the real abuser is standing right beside me. Until I find that journal, Caleb’s right. I don’t trust our legal system not to award Caleb joint, if not full, custody after the tower of lies and circumstantial evidence he’s stockpiled against me.
“I think everything is in order here.” Ms. Darling slips Sarai’s footed onesie back on. “I don’t see any evidence of abuse.”
“Of course you don’t, because I would never,” I snap.
Her brows lift at my sharp tone.
“I’m sorry. This is just all awful and disgusting. To think someone would accuse me of something like this, and we are . . . I am being subjected to this, is just a sore spot for me, as you can imagine.”
“I’m sorry for any inconvenience,” Ms. Darling says. “But when we receive a call like that, we have to make sure.”
“Do you have any idea why someone would lie about this?” I demand, at least wanting her to consider someone is out to get me, to tarnish me. I wish I could spill Caleb’s diabolical plan, but I have no proof and would only look like I was trying to deflect attention. I don’t look at him, but I feel Caleb’s stare boring into the side of my face as surely as the barrel of his gun did last night.
“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” Ms. Darling says, a small frown knitting her brows. “Regardless, we’ll stay in touch.”
“Stay in touch?” My voice skips up a few octaves. “Why? You’ve seen that she’s fine. Is this not over?”
“Just as a precaution, we’ll schedule one more visit to ensure conditions remain consistent.”
Dammit. I have enough to worry about without having to suffer through this useless farce again.
When Caleb walks her out, I’m already halfway up the stairs and in the nursery by the time I hear her car pulling away. It only takes a little humming, several walky-bounces, and a few minutes before Sarai’s little eyes are drooping and she resumes her nap. I close the nursery door quietly and turn to go back downstairs, only to collide with a wall of muscle.
“Oh.” Anxiety at being this close to him corsets my torso, making breathing difficult. “I didn’t see you there.”
He doesn’t reply, but grabs my elbow roughly and herds me down the hall toward our bedroom. I’m tripping over my feet, trying to keep up. As soon as we’re in the room, he closes the door.
“So this visit was a sore spot for you, huh?” he asks. “I’ll give you a sore spot.”
“Caleb, I—”
The back of Caleb’s huge hand slaps the words from my mouth. I touch my lips, the sight of blood on my fingers transfixing me for only a second before I spring into action. I take off for the bathroom, but only make it a few steps before Caleb’s arm, ungiving bone, tight sinew, and hardened muscle, hooks around my waist from behind, hauling me off my feet. He flings me to the bed so hard I almost bounce off. I sit up, determined to make it to safety, but his fist slams into my face. My teeth rattle, and agony blossoms over my jaw and cheekbone.
Now I understand why he didn’t hit me last night. He knew Ms. Darling was coming and saved all this rage for after she left. His violence is not uncontrolled. It’s a thing of cold calculation, which in some ways makes it even more dangerous.
“Caleb, please,” I manage to say, though I can barely get the words past my swelling lips.
“Don’t you ever defy me in front of other people again,” he grits out, his expression made of stone, his eyes nearly black with rage.
His fist flies at me like a missile, but I duck and roll off the bed, landing in an undignified heap. I scramble to my feet, but he shoves me from behind, and I crash into the bedside table. It tips over, the lamp shattering against the wall. From the floor, I see him loosening his belt.
Oh God, no.
I raise my hands to protect my face from the leather strap hurtling through the air. It snaps against my wrist and fingers, cutting into the skin. Before I can process the first lash, several rain down on my arm, a deluge of terror that reddens my flesh with livid welts. In quick succession, the belt falls time and again, a wave that never ebbs, but just keeps coming, keeps crashing over me. The leather slashes into my back and my legs. The buckle nicks my knee, and I howl like a wounded animal, but there’s no one to rescue me. I am the dumb lamb that wandered from the fold, and I’ve stumbled into the razor teeth of a hunter’s trap.
“Oh, God. Caleb, please.” Pain steals my breath, and my words barely make it out before another punch slams my head into the wall. The room spins and tilts, and the edges darken.
I slump against the wall, too disoriented to respond. The belt keeps falling, seeking any tender flesh it has overlooked, and I stop fighting the darkness because it’s the only place I’ll find mercy.
Iris
“Sarai!”
Her name cannons from my mouth, and I jerk up on the bed. Pain slices under my breasts. I grab at my midsection, disoriented for a moment. I know I’ve been unconscious, and the last thing I saw was that monster’s face. My daughter’s been alone with him for as long as I’ve been out.
I fling my legs over the side of the bed, wincing when my muscles scream in protest. I’m naked, and I have no idea how I got this way. My stomach whirs at the thought of what Caleb may have done to me. Welts, cuts, and bruises crisscross my bare legs and arms. Shame builds in my chest and burns my eyes. How did I let this happen? How did I become this battered woman? A sob shakes my chest, and pain ricochets through my rib cage.
“Careful,” a deep voice says from the corner of the room. “Your ribs are probably bruised. There are painkillers by the bed.”
The face is familiar, but my head is still fuzzy. I do my best to assemble the features into someone I recognize.
“Andrew?” I ask, my voice hoarse from my screams.
“Yeah.” Caleb’s cousin stands from a chair, and averts his eyes from my bruised, naked body. “You might want to cover up.”
I snatch the bedsheet over my breasts. All my responses feel delayed as I drag pieces of this grisly puzzle in place.