Chapter 1

Elle

Elle Barclay looked into the face of the man she thought she loved. Tears fell from her eyes.

How could she have been so wrong about him?

His name was Gris. He was seven years older than her, about thirty, but the lines on his face and the gray in his hair made him look at least forty. He had a wooden baseball bat in his hands and he swung it down violently on the kitchen table, smashing it in half.

“Gris,” she cried, “please.”

She hated the pleading tone of her voice. She hated how scared she sounded, how powerless she felt. This was the man she’d told herself she loved. She’d told herself she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. She’d told herself he was a good man.

“Get down on your knees, bitch,” Gris snarled. “Get down on the ground where you belong.”

He was slapping the bat into his left hand menacingly, as if warming up for a baseball inning, but Elle knew from experience that the only thing Gris wanted to hit with it was her.

“Don’t do this, Gris. Please don’t do this.”

“I thought I told you to get on your knees, bitch. Don’t make me say it again.”

Slowly, reluctantly, she got down on her knees. It was a position she’d become all too familiar with during her years with Gris.

“That’s it, you worthless whore. You know where you belong, don’t you?”

She looked down at the ground.

“I said, you know where you belong, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“What? Speak up. I didn’t catch that.”

“Yes, Gris.”

“You’re a filthy, disgusting little whore, aren’t you? You’re fat. You’re ugly. You’re worthless.”

Silence. She couldn’t bring herself to answer. Deep within her, she knew those words weren’t true, but there was something about having a man yell them in her face that made her almost believe them.

Smash.

The bat came down on the steel sink, almost tearing it from the counter. Elle flinched, and she hated herself for showing yet more weakness, yet more fear.

“Your mother knew it, didn’t she?”

Elle nodded, almost imperceptibly, but Gris noticed.

“That’s right. She knew you were a worthless little cunt. She knew no one could ever love you. Hell, even she couldn’t love you, could she? Your own mother couldn’t love you, Elle, and you were her baby.”

Elle stared at the ground. Gris came over and bent down so that his face was level with hers. He grabbed her chin roughly and forced her to look at him.

“She knew you were worthless, didn’t she?”

Elle looked back. She looked into those glassy eyes she’d thought would offer her love. She looked into that face she’d found so handsome once upon a time.

“Your own mother didn’t want you.”

Elle let the words wash over her while blocking as much of their meaning as possible. It was the one truth she regretted letting Gris know. It was the one chink in the armor she’d built for herself. She never should have told him.

“Abandoned at birth,” Gris went on. “I guess that explains why you’re such a fucked up cunt.”

His hand began to clench into a fist, his strong fingers pressing into her cheeks painfully. She wanted to cry out but she was afraid that would only spur him on.

“That’s why you never settle down, never stay in one place, never commit to one man.”

Elle shook her head. That wasn’t entirely true. “I committed to you,” she whispered, her voice straining through the clenched grip Gris had on her mouth.

“I wish that was true, Elle,” he said shaking his head.

Gris was a large man. He could bench press three hundred pounds easily, as he was fond of boasting. When he needed extra money, he’d take on a prize fight, and he usually won. He had muscles like an ox.

He brought his fist down forcefully on the floorboards next to Elle’s leg. She flinched in fright.

“You always had one foot out the door, Elle. You always had your eye on the exit. Don’t think I didn’t feel that. You never let me in, not really. You have a wall built up around you like a fortress.”

Elle would have laughed if she wasn’t so frightened. Why did he think she had her guard up? Why did he think she didn’t trust him? He was a violent son of a bitch with the mean streak of a sadist. If she ever let her guard down, he’d destroy her.

She looked up at Gris and felt something snap inside her. Everyone had their limit, everyone had the point at which they couldn’t take it anymore, and Elle had just reached hers. She rose up on her knees and faced him. He stared back at her, and was surprised at the strength he saw in her determined eyes.

That’s right, Gris. I’m not as weak as I let you believe. Beneath the surface, I’ve got a hidden reserve of strength I never showed you. I’m so much more than you think I am.

Elle pushed herself up from the ground, intensely aware of Gris’s eyes on her.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

She let out a little laugh. She didn’t feel like laughing, the nerves in her stomach still made her feel like throwing up, but she had to let him know that she was taking back control of her life.

“You were right about me, Gris. I did hold back. I never let you in. You never knew the real me.”

“What the fuck?” he said.

“And another thing. For the last three years, every orgasm you think you gave me, was a fake.”

Before he could react, she turned to leave. She didn’t think of packing her things. She didn’t even grab a coat. Her purse was by the door and she grabbed it. Her phone wasn’t in it, but her wallet was. Gris would empty the joint checking account before she was out of the county but she didn’t want his money. She had a little cash, her driver’s license, and the key to her trusty Ford. She didn’t need anything more than that. Not yet.

As she walked out the door, she resisted the urge to look back, to get one final view of the man who’d dominated her existence for the last three years. She’d seen enough of Gris Black to last her a lifetime, and her only hope was that she never saw him again. She was done with him. He hadn’t been wrong about everything, he knew her more deeply than she cared to admit, but he’d abused her, and that was unforgivable.

She reached her car, climbed in and turned the ignition. Gris appeared at the front door. Elle smiled at him. She was happy, genuinely happy. For the first time in years she was taking back the reins of her life.

She revved the engine. Gris’s pride and joy, his custom Camaro, was parked right in front of her wreck of a car. She took the time to look up at him and watch the expression on his face change as he realized what she was about to do. Then she slammed her car into drive and smashed the solid steel of her battered Ford into the pristine, delicate metal of the Camaro. The back of Gris’s car crumpled as if it was made of paper. Apart from a few new scratches and dents on her already scratched and dented beater, Elle’s car was none the worse off.

Gris was so furious he couldn’t move. He looked like he could hardly breathe. Elle backed up a little and was about to pull out of the driveway. She looked at Gris one last time, and he did what he’d always done best, he threatened her. Silently, he ran his finger over his neck, showing her what he’d do to her when he got his chance. Elle knew she should get out of there. She should have put her car in Drive and put her foot on it. But she couldn’t resist.

She revved again and then lurched her car a second time into the back of the Camaro. This time she hit it so forcefully that the entire vehicle pushed forward and crashed into the closed garage door of the house, ruining the front.

Elle wasn’t a particularly reckless person. She wasn’t an adrenaline addict. She didn’t relish being so close to a man who might literally kill her. She turned to look at him, and he was still just standing there at the door, dumbfounded, his jaw wide open.

Elle caught his eye, and in a moment that she would look back on for the rest of her life with relish, she winked at him. He couldn’t believe his eyes.

And then she pulled out of the driveway and got the hell out of there.

She’d never come back. She swore it. This time, she’d leave Gris behind for good.