Hands clamped down on my shoulders while I was sprawled on my front, startling me awake.
“You got something to tell me?” Martin snarled in my ear.
My eyes flung open. “What are you doing here?” I croaked, fighting his hands. It was no use, he was stronger than me.
We were divorced, and he promised he’d never be in contact with me again. It was the only reason I declined the restraining order my lawyer strongly advised.
“Don’t ask stupid questions. You going to tell me why you’re being such a slut and running off to that pussy across the country?”
How could he possibly know I was contemplating a vacation? Let alone the same country as Jake. I’d only thought about it.
He dug his elbow into the center of my back and I gasped. “What? I don’t-”
Twisting his arm, he jammed his elbow further into my spine. “Don’t fucking lie to me. I know you were cheating on me, you cunt. How many times have you slept with that son of a bitch?”
“None!”
Martin had me pinned to the bed, straddling me. My wrists were captured with one hand, and moving was impossible. Tears burned my eyes, my lungs screaming at me from the pressure.
“Lying, bitch. That’s all you ever were.”
My mouth opened to beg for him to let me go, but no words came out. No air escaped either. He was smothering me, and I knew what was coming next. It always happened this way.
Finally, he removed his elbow from my back, and my chest expanded, inhaling a mouth full of air before slamming his body back onto me, keeping my hands clutched in his. The telltale sound of his zipper matched the horror of his hand yanking on my panties.
“If you’re going to be a slut, then you’re going to be one for me.”
I jolted upright in my bed, my heart racing from the nightmare. Both of my hands found my head, wiping away the sweat. I fanned my shirt from my sticky skin.
My erratic breathing didn’t change the more I relived the dream. What if Martin was spying on me? I wouldn’t put it past him. I took in my surroundings, the dark room decorated in earthtones only softly lit by the bathroom light. What if he had a camera hidden somewhere? Was he tracking my cell phone? Did he have someone following my every move? He worked for his father’s successful marketing firm and had money, enough to hire a hitman if he wanted to.
I shuddered. The thought of Martin paying someone to kill me off was terrifying. Taking a deep breath, my chest expanded, then released as I let out air.
I was being outrageous. Martin was probably fucking some chick from Tinder. He’d done it while we were married. No doubt he’d find another woman to replace me. One who had no self-esteem or sense of purpose. I used to be that woman, but not anymore. I’d laid my foot down and fought back, keeping my house and half of our assets.
Nightmares weren’t going to take me down, not anymore. Squaring my shoulders, I hopped out of bed, ready to start the day, even if it were still dark out. The life of a writer, I laughed to myself.
I frowned when working crossed my mind. I hadn’t been able to keep a storyline together for the life of me. I needed something fresh, a new start, a different outlook on life.
An adventure of a lifetime, something challenging and exotic.
I glanced at my phone, a warmth spreading through my still glistening body.
NZThrillWriter: Steal of a deal on Expedia. Not even a long layover in Sydney.
The screenshot had numerous options for flights. I’d be able to financially come see him, but there were so many factors in the way.
AuthorCoraCart: Thanks for looking the fights up for me.
NZThrillWriter: Are you going to book it?
I chewed on my bottom lip. I wanted to, badly.
AuthorCoraCart: I’m meeting with Sandra in four hours. I’ll decide after I talk to her.
NZThrillWriter: Don’t let that wench decide for you.
AuthorCoraCart: That wench pays the bills. Shouldn’t you be writing?
NZThrillWriter: Shouldn’t you be sleeping?
A shiver ran down my back, remembering my awful dream. Not wanting to tell Jake about my nightmare, I opted for the real reason.
AuthorCoraCart: I’m going to write.
NZThrillWriter: It’s about time.