Sleeping was impossible.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the look on Justin’s face when he’d said those words to her. She saw his hand coming for her face. She saw their marriage falling apart faster than she could salvage it…and now, after tonight, there was no need to.

She glanced at the man she’d married, the man who should have given her nothing but love and children, and instead of being light with happiness, her heart was heavy. Cold.

There was nothing for him except for the fear of him waking up and realizing she was sliding out of bed.

He hadn’t told her the name of the man who was sleeping in their spare room, but that wasn’t a problem with her. She didn’t care who it was—he was nothing but a speck on her mind tonight.

Normal people didn’t leave their room if they spent the night at someone’s house. There was a small chance that whoever was in there would come out, and that was a chance she was willing to take if it got her away from her husband. Her feet touched the cold wood and she gingerly pushed herself out of the bed, moving as slowly and as quietly as she could.

The last thing she needed was him to realize she was leaving the bed, even if she told him it was for a glass of water.

Which would have been a lie, a lie she was willing to run with, if just to get away from him. The thought of sleeping next to him was terrifying. It sent a cold chill up her back and even looking at him made her want to heave.

No, she’d take the chance to get away from him. Gladly. Even if it was just moving to the living room.

At least it she wouldn’t be next to him.

Kate grabbed the robe off of the bench and slid it around her thin frame, tying the knot around her waist. She didn’t spare him a single glance as she walked, opened the door, and left. Knowing her luck, he’d wake up just to return that challenging stare of his.

The door closed softly behind her, and she went to the kitchen—or tried to. The second her foot breached the threshold, she froze.

She then took her foot back over the threshold, and simply stood there.

That was where he’d crossed the line, and now she couldn’t even make herself cross the door jam.

Closing her eyes, she turned from the kitchen, staring into the living room.

The pile of laundry from that afternoon stared at her. If she couldn’t sleep and couldn’t get a glass of water, then she might as well do laundry, right? Worrying her lip, she glanced at the bedroom door, and the spare room right across from it, and then squared her shoulders.

This was her house. If she wanted to do laundry at 3 in the morning, then fine. That’s what she would do. Screw letting that bastard control her, even when he was asleep. If he wanted to come out and berate her, then fine—but she wouldn’t hold herself back when she reacted.

Staring at the dirty laundry, arms crossed tightly over her chest, she made herself a promise. No longer was she going to let him talk over her, down to her, or through her.

She was worth more than a body to sleep next to and a wife to berate when he wanted to feel like he had more power.

Because that’s what it was, she realized, angrily bending down to pick up the clothes. He felt so out of control and helpless to his asshole boss that he came home and took that frustration on her—and that was not okay, not something she would put up with.

Kate used her elbow to open the laundry room door, then nudged it open the rest of the way with her butt.

Yeah, he could try to talk down to her, but she was over it. If he wanted to treat her like some kept, weak, stupid woman, then she would leave. She might not have any close family to run to, but getting out of the house when she wanted, even if it was only for a few hours, would surely teach him a lesson.

She tossed the laundry into the washer, picking up a few extra socks that had fallen to the ground. The glass door slammed shut after she threw in a pod, and then she started it.

No more, she promised herself. No more. She was better than this, stronger than this. That part of herself might have been hidden for the past year, but no more.

The rose colored glasses had been ripped off her head, thrown to the ground, and shattered before her eyes. There was no more hoping, no more praying for her husband to come back.

She. Was. Done.

She stood back with her hands on her hips as the washer started to go off. The damn thing was old, and one of the legs had come off a while ago. Now, whenever the machine ran, it wobbled and was so loud it was hard to stay in the same room for very long without getting a headache.

She left the laundry room as the slamming and crashing sound began, wiping her hands together—right as a sound from the guest bedroom drew her up short.

It was probably nothing, she thought. People made sounds in their sleep. Heck, even Justin was known to toss and turn every once in a while.

Yeah, it was—

“No,” the ragged voice said. She froze, that one word filled with so much pain, desolation, and anger that she couldn’t breathe.

The washer machine became louder, and the voice behind the door only became more agitated, his words no longer as clear and precise as they had been originally.

She touched the handle of the door. Did she go in there? Try to wake him up? Or would that be weird? Everyone had nightmares…but this sounded like it was more than that.

When she heard the sound of grunts and thrashing, common sense left her and she twisted the handle.