Prologue
Harleigh
How on Earth did my life become so messed up? I had it all; the house, the fiancé, the great job… now, I have nothing.
Well, I still have the fiancé, more’s the pity. My life has become non-existent because of his obsessive ways.
I was an English teacher, teaching eleven to eighteen-year-olds in a secondary school in Glasgow. I used to make the fifty-minute commute there every day from Stirling. It was something I loved. I woke up happy every morning, knowing I was doing something I wanted to do. Then, along come Martin. He was a real estate developer. All was great in the beginning, but I think the power from him becoming a partner in his company went straight to his head, because life changed.
Now, I must work from home as a freelance editor because it’s the only thing I can do to bring in an income. I can’t leave the house without him. The few times I have nipped out on my own, it caused World War Three, and I ended up with serious injuries. I can’t even speak to my friends without him around, so now I don’t bother seeing anyone because he just growls at everyone, and it’s uncomfortable for them and me. I’m living like a recluse.
My family is concerned about me, but what do I say? “Oh, yeah. You have every right to be worried about me. My fiancé is beating me to a pulp when nothing goes his way, and he despises the ground you all walk on.” That would make for an interesting conversation, one where my older brother, Gavin, would end up in prison because he would kill Martin with his bare hands and enjoy inflicting pain on him for everything he did to me. It isn’t worth thinking about.
I look at the clock and notice it’s nearly time for Martin to return home. My heart feels like it misses a beat. The butterflies swarm in my stomach, and they’re not the good kind. They’re the kind that appear when danger is near.
I try to steady my nerves. I’ve got everything prepared. His dinner’s in the oven, the housework is done, and I’m dressed in something my grandmother would wear. I hate the way I have to dress. Anything I used to wear annoys him. I’m a slut, a whore, someone asking for trouble. And nothing I ever wore was provocative. I dressed casually most of the time. I was a schoolteacher, and I dressed impeccably to make a good impression on my students. I didn’t like to show a lot of skin back then, but now, I’m as well wearing a snowsuit all year long. The only time my skin is free to breathe is when I take a shower. Even then, it’s a quick shower so I don’t waste water, which will cause more arguments and possibly more bruises to add to my collection.
It’s safe to say that my life is an existence. One I’m getting so tired of. I feel older than my years here, and I fear if I don’t do something to get away, I’ll end up dead.
I save the document on my computer and close it. Martin doesn’t like me working on anything when he’s home, but he can ignore me and work through whatever he likes. He’s a hypocrite. One I’ve come to loathe. One I’ve tried every way to get away from, apart from bringing in my family, because I don’t want them to get hurt. I don’t want them to suffer because of my choices. I need to work through this mess myself. I made my bed. I’ve inflicted this on myself for being weak. I can sort my life out myself.
Iwillsort this out myself.
The front door slams shut, and I jump. I quickly stand from the table and make myself busy at the oven. I take out Martin’s dinner and place it down on the table just as he walks into the kitchen. He walks over to me and grips my chin in his hands. I look into his navy eyes and cringe when I see the deep, dark menace I’ve come to know. He looks pissed off, but that’s nothing unusual lately. He’s constantly pissed off. The man I once liked is long gone.
“H-hi,” I stammer.
I hate how he makes me feel weak and out of control. I was a strong, independent person before he changed me into this quivering wreck. Now, I’m a shadow of the person I once was. I don’t like the person I am now, and I can’t see me ever being the same again… not as long as I live here under his wrath.
“You look…” He looks me up and down and laughs before he turns his back on me. “Ridiculous.”
The blood runs cold through my veins and I look down at my feet. I hope and pray the ground opens up and swallows me whole. Sometimes the mental abuse is worse than the physical abuse. I can cover up the scars and forget about them, but the words he uses are on repeat all the damn time. It’s like he takes pleasure in dragging me down.
“What is this?” He pushes the plate slightly in my direction.
“A chicken chasseur.”
All of a sudden, without any warning, the plate speeds through the air and just misses my head before smashing off the cupboards behind me. I shriek. I’m angry that I cooked that meal all day, but I’m terrified of the mood he’s in.
I can’t take this anymore. I look at Martin, who has the biggest smirk on his face. He looks evil and deranged. I’ve spent all day cooking and cleaning, for what? For him to come home and have a tantrum.
“What the fuck is your problem!” I straighten my spine and grow a backbone. I need to take back some control of my life. I’m fed up of being treated like a piece of dirt. I’ve let it go on long enough.
This ends tonight. I either walk away from this house and never return, or my family gets me back in a wooden box. Either way, it ends. It has to.
“Really? Tonight is not the night for you to be dramatic, Harleigh.” He stands from the table and marches over to me, gripping my throat tightly. “You belong to me and you will do as I fucking say. I don’t work all hours of the day to eat chicken.”
His grip tightens on my throat and I feel my eyes bulging out of my head. He pushes me out of his hands, laughs hysterically, and walks out of the kitchen. I know what I’d like to feed the bastard. Rat poison.
I rub at my neck, hoping to help the air flow to and from my lungs more easily. When I can breathe more freely, I stumble forward and grab Martin’s car key from the worktop. I see the path from the kitchen to the front door and I take a few steps to test the waters. I don’t want to run and draw attention to myself, but I can’t take baby steps either. I need to get out of here, and preferably unnoticed by the monster I thought I once loved. I shake my head at that thought, because I must have been crazy to get into this relationship.
Nothing comes to stop me, so I take one step, two steps, three steps… until I finally reach the front door. I sigh with relief and turn the door handle slowly. Only, when it’s all the way down and I try to open it, it doesn’t budge. I feel my smile disintegrate when realisation hits me. Of course, he was never going to make things easy for me. He was never going to let me walk out of here.
“Tut, tut, tut…”
I look over my shoulder and Martin’s dangling the house keys on his finger. I feel my heart pound in my chest. I know he isn’t going to let my disobedience go unnoticed. I’m going to pay for trying to break out of this cage.
“Please, Martin, just let me go. I can’t do this anymore.Wecan’t do this anymore. This relationship is killing us. It’s toxic.” I sob erratically.
