Читать книгу Dead Inside - Noelle Holten - Страница 6

The crash at the bottom of the stairs woke me instantly.

I could see the smallest sliver of light peering underneath the door. The rest of the bedroom was in complete darkness.

I froze.

Should I get up and check on Siobhan? But, I knew if she had woken up, she would tap her fingers on her headboard like she always did, to let us know she was awake.

No tapping.

I didn’t want to move. I couldn’t, I was paralyzed with fear. I had always accepted the verbal abuse that was thrown at me. I could take that. It was the physical abuse that filled me with shame. I couldn’t help but shudder in dread as he stumbled his way up the stairs. I pretended to be asleep, but my heart raced faster with the sound of every footstep. My fear of him weighed me down, suffocated me, and pinned me to the bed.

We had two years of bliss before he proposed to me.

Two years of living normal, happy lives.

What happened?

Six months into the marriage, I realized I’d sealed my fate when I’d said, ‘I do’.

Ten years later, and the regrets were mounting.

Who would have thought that two little words would have given me such a long sentence?

Why me? What did I do to deserve this?

The bedroom door creaked open slowly. That’s what he did. Let me know he was coming, then built on my terror by taking his time to enter the bedroom.

I could hear his breathing as he stood there, his eyes bearing down on me. I tried to keep as still as possible. I wanted to disappear, sink deep down into the depths of the mattress where it was safe.

The foul stench of alcohol filled the room, stinging my eyes, and threatening to choke me.

Oh God! Please let him just ignore me tonight.

The dull thud from the change in his pocket startled me, as his clothing fell piece by piece to the floor.

I can’t take this anymore.

I wanted to shout but couldn’t wake up Siobhan.

He crawled in beside me. Hot, smelly breath burned at my neck, making me cringe. I couldn’t stand him anywhere near me.

In my mind, I was screaming, get away please just leave me the fuck alone! But not a sound escaped my lips.

He put one of his rough, calloused hands under my oversized T-shirt, his fingers icy to the touch. I shivered, not because his hand was cold, but because I knew what would happen if I said no.

He wrapped his arm around my neck, pulled me closer. Tight, uncaring and rough, until he was almost choking me.

‘Please … don’t.’ There was a whimper in my voice.

Sometimes, my weakness made me sick.

‘I want you.’

‘I have to work in the morning, Patrick. Please … don’t.’

He shoved his hand between my legs. Not gentle or loving, but forceful.

Through gritted teeth he snarled, ‘I don’t care. I. Want. You.’

‘Please. Think of Siobhan. You’ll wake her.’

I remember tears flowing down my face like a waterfall. Like they’d never stop. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to think of something else.

Anything else. Anything would be better than this.

I was dead inside, numb to it all, even as I tried to remember the happier times.

When I thought he loved me.

When I loved him.

That night was the first time my husband raped me.

The look in his eyes when he finished and cast me aside told me it wouldn’t be the last.