Chapter 7
A Horrible Meeting
Katelyn
It was somewhat ironic, given the fact she expected John to show up on her doorstep the night before, to find him waiting there after work. She didn’t recognize the black sports car parked half on the curb to the left of her condo, on the street just out of the parking lot, but she knew immediately that it was John’s. It just had that overbearing, overpowered, overcompensated look that she knew he loved.
Makes sense. She couldn’t count how many times she wished she would have asked him what he drove before she followed him over to Chicago and married him.
She wasn’t wrong, she noted with dismay as she pulled up in her parking spot and killed the ignition. Her eyes remained trained on the car and John got out with no hesitation.
It gave her a wretched sort of feeling to see him striding down the short driveway into the parking lot all the condos overlooked. The buildings formed around it in a square that was open only to the entrance way. He was of course, dressed in a suit. He was always dressed in a damn suit or some kind of overly formal clothing.
What is it people say about not trusting a man in a suit? Oh yah. Just don’t.
Katelyn stepped slowly from her car though every instinct inside of her screamed at her to get back in and drive as far away as she could.
No. I’ve been dreading this for a year. I’m going to stand up for myself now or he’s going to keep haunting me for the rest of my life.
She waited, one hand flat on the warm metal of her car where the door met the roof. John approached confidently, shoulders and head held high. As though beating her, diminishing her, intimidating her, their entire marriage was something he was proud of.
Katelyn bit back the urge to scream. She wanted to fly at John, nails out, to harm him physically as badly as he had her. On more than one occasion. She wanted to beat his chest and rail against him for being so hopelessly unfair to her when she trusted him blindly. He’d held her heart and her life and he’d betrayed her trust so very bitterly. Pain and rage thrummed through her veins.
“Katelyn.” John said her name like he had a right to it. Like she was still his. She didn’t like the feral gleam in his eyes.
She wanted to say that the year had not been kind to John, but on the outside he was as handsome as he ever was. Far too perfect. That should have been a tip off as well.
“Are you going to stand by that car all day or are we going to go inside and talk?”
Katelyn winced. So much for having time to set up my phone as a camera. She’d been prepared the night before. Stupidly enough, she hadn’t banked on the fact that he’d be waiting for her to come home. Even after all the years had passed, after everything, she was still so blind to his ways.
“I guess so. You have one hour.” She turned coldly and stalked over to the sidewalk and up the steps to her condo. She inserted the key in the door.
She prayed that Missy would sense the evil in the household and stay hidden away. Thankfully she didn’t appear at the front entrance like she normally did. Smart girl.
Though she wanted to do anything but, Katelyn led the way to the living room. She motioned towards the sofa and after a moment, John sat. She took the arm chair and dragged it away from the window to face the couch.
“Aren’t you going to offer me a drink?” John tried one of his dazzling smiles, but it fell flat. She might have been naïve enough not to see him coming, but she had learned her lesson well.
“No,” she ground out. She sat down hard in the chair, squared her shoulders, intent on doing battle. “I just want to talk. And then I want you to leave.”
“Such a warm welcome from my ex-wife,” John muttered coldly. He crossed his one leg over the other with all the confidence in the world.
Katelyn wished she had something to throw at him. A glass ashtray would be nice. Aimed right at his head. Although his skull was so thick it would probably bounce right off.
“You don’t deserve a welcome or warmth.” She knew she was playing with fire, but he was the one who had forced her into this, this final meeting. She was going to damn well say what she needed to. “You hurt me, John. You took me and all the faith I had in you and you broke it. You broke it when you hit me. You broke it when you called me fat and a slut and a cheat and a liar. Stupid and pathetic. You tried to crush my soul. So no, there is no warm welcome here. Now or ever.”
John’s eyes met hers. They bit cruelly into her soul, bruising her as his fist had once left a mark on her face. He slowly shook his head and had the nerve to actually laugh.
That mother fucker sat right on her couch and laughed at the fact that he’d harmed her in every possible way. “That’s how you see it? You knew I was just joking. All those things I said, it meant nothing. You knew that I loved you. You needed to grow a thicker skin. You needed to grow up. I married a child. I was trying to show you how to be a woman.”
“By beating me?”
“You know I was sorry for that. It only happened when you made me angry. I’d been drinking…”
“That’s not an excuse.” Katelyn’s stomach rolled and she felt physically ill. “Anyway, just say what you need to say. Or no, don’t. Let me.” She took a deep breath, amazed that John stayed silent. His face remained a mask and it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. She knew he was dangerous like that, when he assessed his opponent, trying to find a weakness to exploit. “I’m done. There is no second chances. I will never come back to Chicago. For the first time since I married you, I’m happy. I have my own life. I guess I have you to thank for that. For giving me the confidence to go out on my own and make myself happy. To build up my career, for teaching me how to be independent.” She was sarcastic, her voice acrid and biting. “I loved you, but that love was broken. You took it and you smashed it to pieces. Our marriage is over. It’s been over for a year. I don’t love you. I’ll never love you again. Don’t come here. Stay away from Miami and stay away from me. After tonight I’m going to file a restraining order to see that you do. I hope you find whatever closure you were looking for because this is the last time you ever see me again.”
She waited, breath baited painfully, lungs burning, stomach tossing and churning, acid creeping up her throat. Her palms were drenched with sweat. She finally stood, after a few moments of silence, John’s eyes cutting her to shreds. She intended to show him the door.
Of course, he had other ideas. He stood as well and closed the distance between them in a few long strides. He reached out, wrapped his hand like a vice around her wrist. Katelyn tried to pull away, heart hammering in her chest, the danger closing in on her, but he held her fast.
“No. You’re going to listen to what I have to say now,” he hissed. Spittle flew from his mouth and hit her on the face, but she forced herself not to wince. She had to stay calm. John was a pariah. He fed off others fear. She wouldn’t show him that her amour had any cracks. “You are a cunt. A low class, fucking whore who used me for a Green Card. You think you can threaten me with a restraining order? I own you, you little bitch. Your life is mine. It was mine from the minute you agreed to be my wife. For better or worse, to death do us part. You’re not dead. You’re far from it. You think you can make me a laughing stock? That you can come between me and my peers, people who respected me before I met you? You’re coming back to Chicago with me. You will say you made a mistake. A momentary lapse of judgment. You will come back and you will be my wife again.”
Katelyn’s mouth opened in shock. “Are you fucking insane?” she whispered, unable to force her voice to be loud or strong. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Maybe you should tell everyone the real story. Then they’d understand and you wouldn’t look like you’d been jilted.”
“Bitch!” Katelyn tried to pull away. She knew what was coming. John’s grip was much too firm, his strength always so much greater than hers. He yelled other obscenities, but she tuned them out. She went somewhere in her head, trying to protect herself. She could already feel herself shutting down.
She barely registered the way his cold hand wrapped around her neck, cutting off her air supply or the way he propelled her easily across the room and slammed her into the wall that adjoined the other condo.
The condo of the man whose name I don’t know. His face flashed across her closed eyes, danced along with the black spots and bursting colors from not being able to draw a breath.
John’s hold loosened. Katelyn gasped for air, her lungs screaming. She knew it was only a temporary reprieve to keep her alive. It would do him no good if he killed her. John’s hand left her throat. He gripped her by the shoulders, turned her around and slammed her into the wall again, harder this time. Her face hit the drywall hard. She managed to turn at the last second, just enough to save her nose from shattering.
Her hair was tugged mercilessly out of the pony tail she’d placed it in. John used her hair as leverage. She cried out, grasping piteously at his hands, trying to keep him from tearing her hair out. He slammed her again into the wall.
He was yelling, yelling things that weren’t even comprehendible at her. He was in a rage, a worse rage that she had ever seen him in.
He could actually kill me.
It was her last thought before he turned her savagely, gripping her hair in his fist. He struck her once in the face, with his closed fist, right along her cheekbone. Pain bloomed along the whole left side of her face. She wailed. She tried to claw at him, tried to rip out his eyes, but she couldn’t reach. He held her just far enough away.
He drew back his fist again and she closed her eyes, praying the blow would knock her unconscious before he actually did kill her in his rage.
The blow never landed. At that moment there was the splintering crash of the front door banging open. Footsteps sounded in the hall, getting closer, closer, and then he was there.
Him, her neighbor, the man whose name she did not know.