“Since when do you get to dictate whether I can get a book with my own money? You’re my husband,notmy master, and this is my house, too.”
“Your name isn’t on this house. Since you do nothing, you don’t do anything to earn it.”
He can’t be serious… But he is, and here we go again, this cycle of me defending myself and my individuality.
“I do nothing?” I ask, wondering if he really doesn’t notice. “What do you consider something? I cook, I clean—”
“Barely,” he cuts in, “You’ve been usingMYmoney to hire a cleaning crew.”
“Youtold me I could because I was going back to work.” I reply. “If that’s such a big deal, then stay out of my account and I’ll use my own money.”
“If you quit that job, I’ll take care of it all. You can go back to having an allowance and credit card in my name,” he says.
He’s trying to trap me. I can’t agree with that and he knows it. He knows I won’t, but he’s taunting me, anyway.
“You know my answer. I won’t do it,” I reply, backing out of the door.
“Then I’ll drain your accounts and you’ll have to start over.”
“You can’t do that!” I seethe.
“I can, marital assets and no prenup, post-nup. I can and will take it all.” He says, standing from his chair and slowly walking toward me.
Slamming the office door, he catches it before it latches and swings it back open. He walks through it, his dirty blonde hair falling over his eyes. At least he’s showeringregularly and doesn’t smell like mold and rotten cheese much anymore.
I know that look, I need to get out of here right now. I’ve managed to avoid his assaults for the past few months. Today, having this lapse of judgment is going to get me into trouble. I’ve gotten too comfortable. That’s why he picks these fights with me, to get me wound up and confrontational, so he can beat the shit out of me and rape me in front of his camera… then blame me later when he gives me his fake-ass apologies.
Heart already racing, I turn away and run down the stairs, into my library, quickly flipping the light on. I put all my weight against the door and flip the lock as fast as I can. Then, I shove a throw blanket under the door. The friction of the carpet and the blanket between the door should make it harder to open, even if the lock fails. Hurrying to move my chair against the door too. Relieved that I decided to keep it on this side of the room, just for this reason and never put it back.
He bangs on the door, trying to push it open. Maybe he realizes I’ve barricaded the door again. He stops.
“You can’t stay in there forever, Lila.” One last bang on the door.
“Leave me alone Eli, or I’ll call the police!”
“Do it,” he taunts.
I know he doesn’t mean it because I can hear him walking away. I’m not stupid enough to open this door for the next few hours. He’ll just come straight back for me.
Instead, I grab my phone from my back pocket and sink low into my chair. I’ve gotten surprisingly quick at moving this huge chair around. A lavender-purple, and the size of atwin bed.
In my library, the bookshelves are floor to ceiling. After today, I’ll probably have sleep in here from now on. He could easily surprise me or taken advantage of me while I’m asleep. Or has he already, and I didn’t realize it? It didn’t physically feel like it.
Failing to find some lighthearted funny videos as I scroll online, I suddenly have a strange feeling that something is out of place. I look up and notice on the table next to the window, there is a pile of books I know I didn’t put there. Maybe Eli got them and that’s why he locked my card? No, not after that whole display just now. He hasn’t attempted to get me anything or even spend time with me in a very long time.
I walk over to the table and pick one up, and it is definitely one in the pile I had planned to buy earlier today. Opening the first pages to see if there are any clues, a small, folded paper falls onto the floor. I pick it up and hold it in my hand.
What the fuck?
My heart pounds so hard, I can feel it in my ears. Who got in here? Are they still here? Should I even open this? Eli would have seen whoever it was on the camera, right? He would have said something to me when I got home and not waited in his office. Actually, he would have seen I was close with the GPS on my phone, but he didn’t. He had no idea I was home at all until I opened the door.
Slowly, I look around to see if there is any movement. This room couldn’t hide a person with the way I have it set up, but there is a closet and a bathroom. I walk over and cautiously open the bathroom door, turning on the light and checking behind the stand-up shower curtain. Nothing. Then, I pull open the closet door. Still nothing.Moving over to the lone window on the other side, it has a small view of the bay with some dune grass just before the beach. It is also locked and hasn’t been opened.
I’m just going to take my chances and go into the living room, since now I feel my only space has been invaded and I’m more than a little creeped out. The living room is rarely used anymore, anyway. White everywhere, except the couches, large and gaudy red velvet. It feels tight in here, and sad.
Phone in hand, I open the camera app and swipe through the many angles Eli has set up to watch me. No saved footage from my library, or from the outside cameras. I do see that Eli’s car is gone. I guess he just left when he couldn’t get to me. Good, I don’t want him here, anyway. Maybe I’ll be a little more safe looking around while he’s gone, but how safe can you be with a stranger creeping around inside your house in the dark? Standing out here probably isn’t the best idea, so I walk back into my library and lock the door behind me.
Slowly, I unfold the note andit says:
