PROLOGUE ~ CALLIE
HEAVY FOOTFALLS FOLLOWED by a litany of cursing sounded against the walls of the duplex. Closing my eyes, I breathed a sigh of relief. He was alive. Stoned, likely drunk, but alive nonetheless. Tears fell from my eyes as the front door opened and more curses fell from his lips as he tripped over the threshold. No crash was heard, so he didn’t trip. He was home. He was safe. Wiping my face, I said another silent prayer, how many can one person say in a night? He’d just pass out on the sofa and fighting wouldn’t happen again. The stomping started in the hallway making the breath back up in my lungs. Lying in our bed, I turned my face away from the door and tried to make it look like I was sleeping. Usually if he thought I was asleep, he’d leave me alone.
The door swung open and I jumped giving me away. The stench of alcohol and despair wafted through the bedroom that took me months to decorate and arrange.
“Callie,” closing my eyes, I hoped if I ignored him, he’d leave it be. “Callie,” my name sounded out of his drunken mouth. “Wake up! I need to talk to you.”
More like he needed to yell at or belittle me. Somehow no matter what I did, it was never good for mister ‘I’m a big named actor’. He wasn’t. He’d played on the same show for years. Other parts fell through for some reason or other; but Eric, he usually blamed other people. Nothing was ever his fault. Including the current state of our relationship. I loved him, but he loved women and drugs more. He didn’t think I knew about the other women, but I did.
“Callie, get the hell up.”
Giving up the hope of peace, I rolled back over to face him. His shirt was hanging haphazardly off his shoulders, his jeans were undone. Bile rose in my throat just looking at him. If he slept it off, tomorrow we’d be okay, right? I’d been telling myself the same lie for the last nine months.
“What Eric? I work tomorrow. Can’t it wait.”
“No!”
Rolling my eyes, I sat up in bed and drew the blanket over my legs.
“What is it?”
“I’m moving out. We need to see other people.”
If he had hit me again, it would have been less shocking. Where in the hell had this come from? I let him have his women, the house was always cleaned. As much as it disgusted me, I slept with him. He had everything and could still have his dalliances.
“Eric, what in the hell are you talking about?”
He swayed slightly but managed to stay on his feet. He was drunk. That’s all.
“I’m moving out, tonight. I can’t do this with you anymore.”
Anger coursed through me and brought me to my feet. He couldn’t do this with me? As if everything was my fault?
“You’re moving out when you can barely stand. Just come to bed. We can talk in the moving,” I reached out to grab his arm and help him to bed and he recoiled as if I smacked him.
“Don’t fucking touch me! I said we’re done. I’m leaving.”
He stomped over to the dresser and yanked on the dresser drawer. I stood there stunned, shamed and hurt. Turning and walking back to the bed, slipping under the covers, I watched my world implode around me.
An hour later, he was gone. Every drawer of the dresser sat on my floor, doors were thrown open, some even off the hinges. The final slam of the front door still ringing in my ears. Lying in a bed I used to share with him, I wept for everything I had lost.
****
Waking up to the mess wasn’t any better. After looking at the disarray over a cup of mocha coffee, I figured if Eric no longer wanted me, I would have to start my life over. I let him rule my life; but now, that part was over with.