“Yes, I am.” My voice shakes but doesn’t break. “I’m done with this marriage. I’m done with you.”
His movement is so sudden I don’t have time to react. His hand shoots out, fingers tangling in my hair, yanking my head back with enough force that I cry out. Pain lances across my scalp, sharp and immediate.
“You ungrateful bitch,” he hisses, his face inches from mine. “After everything I’ve done for you? Everything I’ve given you?”
“Let go,” I gasp, my hands flying up to grab his wrist, trying to lessen the pressure on my scalp.
He drags me toward the door, my feet stumbling to keep up, my hands clawing at his arm. I don’t recognize the sounds coming from my throat, half-words, half-animal noises of pain and fear.
“You think you can just walk away?” he asks, his voice oddly conversational despite the violence of his grip. “You think you can just decide you’re done?”
We’re at the top of the stairs now. I know what’s coming even before he shoves me, but there’s no time to brace myself. My body pitches forward, hands desperately reaching for the railing but finding only air.
The fall feels both impossibly slow and too fast to process. I’m aware of each impact. Shoulder, hip, elbow, ribs, as I tumble down the stairs, each point of contact a new explosion of pain. When I finally land at the bottom, sprawled on the hardwood floor, I can’t breathe. The jarring contact has knocked the air out of me, and for a terrifying moment, I can’t make my diaphragm work.
Eli descends the stairs methodically, each step deliberate. Through the haze of pain, I try to move, to crawl away, but my body won’t cooperate. Something must be broken, everything hurts in a way that makes coherent thought nearly impossible.
“Look at you,” he says, standing over me. “Pathetic. You can’t even leave properly.”
He grabs my shoulders and flips me onto my stomach. The sudden movement sends fresh pain shooting throughmy body, and I cry out. His knee presses into the small of my back, pinning me down.
“Maybe you need a reminder of who you belong to,” he says, his hands going to the waistband of my pants.
Ice-cold terror cuts through the fog of pain. “No,” I gasp, trying to buck him off. “Don’t. Please.”
He ignores me, yanking my pants down to my thighs with one brutal movement. I feel the heat of his body as he leans over me, hear the clink of his belt buckle.
“Stop,” I plead, my voice breaking. “Eli, please stop.”
“Shut up,” he growls, one hand pressing my face against the floor. “You’re my wife. This is what wives do.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, preparing for the inevitable violation. Then a sound cuts through the horror, a sharp, insistent knocking at the front door. Eli freezes above me, his breathing heavy in my ear.
The knocking continues, growing louder, more urgent. Unrelenting.
“On of your little friends?” Eli asks, his weight still crushing me. “Did you tell them to come check on you?”
I don’t answer, focused only on the knocking that hasn’t stopped. It’s my lifeline, my only hope.
The pressure on my back shifts as Eli stands. “Don’t move,” he orders, zipping his pants.
The moment his weight lifts, I drag myself forward, pants still tangled around my thighs. Every movement is agony, but terror is a powerful motivator. I claw my way across the floor as Eli moves toward the door, yelling for whoever it is to go away.
The library. I need to get to the library.
I pull my pants up with trembling hands and force my battered body to move faster. Behind me, I hear Eliyelling at the door, his voice rising in anger. I don’t look back. I focus only on reaching the sanctuary of my library, on putting a locked door between me and the monster I married.
My legs finally cooperate enough to let me stand, though I nearly collapse with the first step. I stagger through the living room, one hand against the wall for support. The library door looms ahead, the only safe place in this house of horrors.
I stumble inside and slam the door shut, turning the lock with shaking fingers. It won’t hold him for long if he really wants to get in, but it might buy me time. I shove a blanket under the door, unable to move the chair in my current state.
The banging on the front door hasn’t stopped. If anything, it’s grown more frantic. Through the window, I can see part of the driveway, Valerie’s car parked haphazardly near the gate, and both she and Mia are there. They knew something was wrong. Then who was at the door?
When the pounding stops, I hear Eli’s footsteps in the living room, heavy and purposeful. Then his fist pounding on the library door.
“Open this fucking door, Lila!” he shouts. “Now!”
The doorknob rattles violently. The lock breaks and the blanket is all that’s keeping the door closed. It won’t hold. I know it won’t hold.
