Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 101662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
He’s going to kill me.
He’s going to kill me.
He’s going to kill me…
I kept my head down as he walked around me. He kept laughing as I stayed in a ball. “You’re so pathetic, Kierra. This is embarrassing. Pull yourself together.”
I didn’t say anything, and he kept laughing.
“I’m going to get a drink and to meet with a few clients. Clean this mess up. We’ll talk later.”
He left the room, but I didn’t believe that he truly left. My husband was a liar. A psychotic, monstrous liar who would probably be waiting around the corner for me to feel safe enough to get up, only so he could shove me down the staircase. He’d tell people I tripped, too. That I was so clumsy. That I was so unstable. That I was the issue.
I was always the issue.
I heard the front door slam closed, and a car pulled away.
A short breath fell from between my lips.
When I found enough courage, I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my cell phone. I sent a quick text message. Then I waited. And waited. And waited.
How did I get here?
What had I become?
Blood trickled down my cheek as I stayed balled up beside my nightstand. The water seeped into the carpet while glass pieces sat scattered around me.
That would be another argument. Or, more so, him yelling at me, reminding me how disappointing I’d been.
“Why did you upset me so much that I had to throw that at you, Kierra? Why do you push me so much when all I do is love you? Now, look at that mess.”
Mess.
Such a mess.
I shuddered as I heard the front door open, thinking Henry was back for more. I hadn’t moved in the past twenty minutes. My phone was gripped in my hands as my nervous system stayed in overdrive, making it impossible for me to physically stand.
“Kierra!” was shouted, the voice alert and stern.
Within seconds, my troubled soul soothed from the sound of the voice packed with bass. Henry’s voice didn’t do that—soothe me.
“Here,” I choked out. I felt a certain amount of shame as I glanced down at myself. My T-shirt was stretched out and ripped from when Henry’s hands had twisted around it to toss me around like a rag doll.
Concern for my safety should’ve been the first thing to cross my mind at that moment, but truthfully embarrassment showed up first. I felt ashamed that another would see me in my current state. Especially him.
I didn’t want him to see me like this. Broken. Battered. Bruised.
Damaged.
I frantically wiped at my tears, but still, I couldn’t stand. Why wouldn’t my feet move? Why was my body frozen? Why did I not fight back?
Weak.
“You’re such a weak bitch.”
So many of my thoughts weren’t even my own anymore. They all belonged to him. He’d spent the past few years reprogramming my thoughts to match his voice. Thoughts that fed me insults at rapid speeds, drenching my soul in self-doubt.
They started out so small, harmless even.
“You’re not going to eat another piece of bread, are you?”
“That’s an interesting hair color choice.”
“Have you considered starting at a gym to up your energy more? We can go together and make it a couple’s thing.”
I never struggled with my energy. Still, I signed up for a membership.
Stop, I begged my own brain. There was such a small part of me that remained after what he’d done to me. Yet it still fought back, even though it was tired, even though it was hurt, even though it wanted to quit time and time again. It was that same part of me that managed to make the call that would take me away from here.
The footsteps were fast paced and then they reached the bedroom and found me.
Me.
In the corner.
Balled up like a coward.
I looked up and met his eyes. The kind eyes I’d hadn’t seen in days, weeks.
Gabriel.
He came.
Reality set in that he came back for me.
Even after how everything went down.
He hurried over, his hand rested against my cheek, and I shut my eyes. Comfort. I missed that most of all.
“Kierra…” he choked out with palpable heartache.
I opened my eyes and saw the hurt in his stare. I shook my head. “Just a few bruises, that’s all,” I half-joked.
He didn’t laugh. I didn’t blame him. Nothing was funny.
“Where’s Ava?” he asked, alert, his eyes darting around the space. “Is she…?”
“She’s okay. She’s at her grandmother’s.”
Gabriel pulled me closer to him. “I’m going to murder him,” he growled, his nostrils flaring with a rage I’d never seen before. “I’m going to fucking murder him.”
“No. It’s fine.”
“This isn’t fucking fine,” he growled, his voice dripping with desire for vengeance.
“I know. But we have to leave before he’s—”
The front door opened again, and I tensed up. Gabriel glanced toward the doorway of the bedroom, then back to me. “Stay here,” he ordered. Not an order from control, yet one from protection. Those orders were very different. Henry controlled; Gabriel protected.