Page 2 of Grave Secrets

I pull into the driveway and force myself to get out. If I sit around for too long out here, he will get pissy. As I walk in the door, I find that Chris is sitting on the couch with a beer in his hand, watching television.

“You’re late,” he grunts.

“What do you want for dinner?” I ask, walking through the living room to the kitchen. He follows me and tosses his empty can on the counter before grabbing another from the fridge.

“Why are you late?”

“I don’t have a set time that I leave, Chris,” I say with a sigh as I set my bags on the table. I always make sure to keep my phone with me because his crazy ass will text and call my clients if he can’t get hold of me. “I have a new court-mandated client who requires anger management six days a week. I will not be leaving any sooner than six during the week, and I have an appointment on Saturdays that will end no sooner than eleven.”

“Man or woman?”

“Since when do I give you fucking client info?” I turn around and snap at him. He surprises me when he suddenly slaps me across the face.

“If I find out you’re fucking cheating on me, I’ll kill you and him,” he growls.

I stare at him, partly in shock and partly with rage simmering just below the surface. If I say anything to him right now, I’ll explode. He is drunk, and it will just escalate. Instead of saying anything, I turn away from him and pick up my bags.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Chris asks. “Are you fixing dinner or not?”

I stop and look at him with a deadpan expression. “Do you really want me to fix your dinner after you just hit me, Chris?” I ask calmly.

“Just go to your office and leave me the fuck alone,” he scoffs and stomps off to the living room.

I get my keys out and slide one into the lock of my office. When I turn it, it doesn’t click. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, so I don’t kill Chris. He is the only one who could do this. I go in, and everything seems fine, so I set my bags on my desk and squat down to unlock my fire safe. When I pull it open, all of the cash is missing, as well as my parents’ wedding rings.

I stand up and stomp out of the room to go to Chris. “Why did you go into my office?” I shout at him. “Where the fuck are the rings?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ada,” Chris says, not looking away from the television.

“Bullshit,” I say, stepping in front of the screen. “Forty thousand dollars and my dead parents’ rings are gone. The safe and the room were locked. Now it’s not, and you are the only one in this house.”

“Sounds frustrating,” he says. “Are you sure that’s where they were? You are awfully forgetful.”

“Don’t fucking gaslight me, Chris. Where the fuck is it? Why did you take them?” I demand, tears welling up.

“Gaslight? Are you saying I’m abusive, Ada?” Chris asks, slamming his beer down and standing up to get in my face.

“Get out of my face,” I growl.

“Or what?” he asks. “Go ahead, Ada. Say what’s on your mind.”

“This is my house. You contribute nothing. I support you, and this is the thanks I get?” I say. “You try to control everything I do. You force me to fuck you half the time. I’m sick…”

“Force?” he cackles. “Last I checked, your fat ass still comes on my cock.”

I glare at him before starting to walk away, but he puts his arm out to block me. Rage finally slips out, and I shove him back. “Don’t fucking touch me!” I scream at him, tears rolling down my cheeks. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

“Excuse me?” he asks, stepping closer to me. I step back, and he shoves me back against the wall to trap me. “Last I checked, this mortgage has my name on it, Ada.”

“You did that without my permission,” I growl. “I could press charges for you hitting me.”

Yeah… that was a bad idea…

Chris wraps his hands around my throat and slams me back against the wall so hard that the drywall buckles before throwing me toward the couch. Before I can push away, he grabs me by the hair, shoving me over the arm before yanking my dress slacks down.

“Stop it, Chris,” I yell at him. I push up off the couch, but he ignores my resistance and shoves his dick inside me anyway. It’s like someone has draped my consciousness with a weighted blanket, because I just… give up. It’s frightening how quickly I shut down. I’ve never fought him before. He usually just pesters me until I give in and let him do whatever. But this… this is establishing dominance. It’s about showing that he has the power, no matter if I have the money. It’s anger, but it’s also a massive escalation. Why? What happened that he suddenly needed to steal that much cash and the last things left of my parents?

Mom and Dad died in a house fire when our crackhead neighbor blew up his meth lab. I was at a friend’s house, thank God, but I lost them. I lost everything. The fire was so hot that the only thing left were their wedding bands. The medical examiner gave them to me, and they have been in that safe ever since. This rape. This abuse. The name-calling… Nothing hurts as badly as him taking those rings, and he knew that. He knew that my one weakness was their memory. My entire life went up in flames that day, and now I have nothing left but the secrets that he’s leaving me with.