“The music’s loud. I’m going outside,” I hollered over the music to Janice who was dancing to a cover band playing Green Day’s Time of Your Life (Good Riddance). I was sweating my tits off in there.

Outside wasn't much better. There was a group of guys smoking. I didn't care much about that. I just needed to get away from the crowded dance floor for a second. Besides, half of the guys out here were probably part of the MC anyway. A quick glance around, and sure enough, House, Bull, Pinky, Train, and George were all outside. Yes, those were their names. Pinky’s pinky-less hand was down a girl’s pants squeezing her ass while he casually smoked a tightly rolled joint. I would’ve asked for a hit if I wasn't worried about where his hand had been.

I took a swig of my beer when I heard more motorcycle pipes. My head tilted in that direction. I was hopeful it was Drake. He’d been out of town on club business, and I couldn’t wait to see him. He wasn't lying when he offered me the world that day six months ago at my trailer. I rode off on the back of his bike, and never looked back.

Sex? Well, it only got better. He was always hungry for me, and I craved him just as much as he craved me. I moved in with him at his clubhouse right away. It wasn't even a question. I worked at his bar. I hung out with his brothers' girlfriends. Sure, I saw some shit I thought was terrible. I mean, it was a motorcycle club. I hadn’t expected roses or anything, but the shit I’d seen? Well, let’s just say, I was glad I had Drake. He made it all worth it. It wasn't perfect. Drake drank a lot. I was used to that, though. He was also extremely jealous, as if any man in his club could hold a candle to him.

On more than one occasion, I’d seen him take a fist to a guy whose eyes had lingered too long. I’d be lying if I told you it didn't thrill me that a man like him would be so wild over me; a little-redheaded trailer trash chick from Nowheresville, Oklahoma.

The bike pulled into the parking lot, but it was too dark to see if it was Drake or not. I moved away from the group waiting, hoping that it was him. He stepped from the shadows to where the bar’s lights filtered into the darkness. It was him! He was back. I ran to him in relief. He barely made it another step before I was flinging myself up into his arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist and kissed him with everything I had. His friends hooted and hollered, but I didn't give a fuck. I hadn’t seen Drake in weeks, and he was finally back.

“Marie,” he murmured, walking us back into the darkness.

“God, I missed you.” I continued peppering kisses all over his face until he stopped moving. It was incredibly dark, but I could tell he’d brought us to the back of the bar. He leaned me against the cold cement wall.

“Been dreaming about your pussy for three hundred miles.”

God, yes!

“Gonna fuck you now.” He was still holding me up. His hand went right between my legs pushing my short shorts and panties to the side and sliding a finger inside of me. His eyes grew darker like they often did. While he pumped a finger inside of me, I reached forward and undid his belt buckle. Seconds later he was inside of me fucking me good and hard against the wall. I was panting as I came. My breathing had barely slowed as Drake pulled out of me and set me down.

I looked up at him. “I missed you.”

“Getting that seeing as I only walked three steps off my bike before you threw yourself at me. If that’s the greeting I get when I get home, maybe I should leave more often.”

I smacked his arm, “Don’t you dare.”

“Got something that’ll make it up to you.” He pulled a ring from his pocket. It wasn’t overly huge. It was a small round diamond. I loved it. I’d never had real jewelry. Then, it dawned on me what it was.

“Is that? Are you?” I couldn’t get my words straight. I was so excited.

“You know what it is.” He stared at me long and hard. I couldn’t help the squeal that I made as he placed it on my finger. I’d never felt more cherished.

“Not leaving again without you being my wife first. I can't stand the idea of being gone, and you not having my ring on your finger.”

“I’m going to be your wife.” I peppered kisses all over Drake’s face.

“Yes, yes you will be.”

We married two days later.

***

“ARE YOU FUCKING HIM?”

“No, I don't even know who he is. He just ordered a beer.”

“I saw the way you looked at him. Don't lie to me, Marie. Just tell me the fucking truth.”

I was fuming. This was the third time this week that Drake had gotten shit-faced drunk, and accused me of fucking someone else. I’d never do that. Why couldn’t he see that? We’d been married six months, and his jealousy had only gotten worse.

“You know what? Fuck this. If you’re going to accuse me of fucking every customer that walks up to the bar to order a drink, then you find somebody else to work back here.” I threw down the dishtowel I was using to wipe down the bar with, and stormed away from the bar and back to our room. I heard a thud followed by something breaking. If he kept this shit up, I didn't know what I was going to do. I loved him so much, but when he got like this, I wasn't even sure who he was.

A second later Drake stormed into the room. “You get your ass back out there, right now!”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Why would I go back out there? You think I’m fucking everyone,” I yelled back. I was furious.

He grabbed me by the arm, harder than I expected. He’d never hurt me before. He pushed me up against the wall; his grip even tighter.

“Ouch.”

“You will not embarrass me in front of my men. Do you understand me? You’ll suck it up, keep your head down, and do your fucking job without giving one of my goddamn brothers' fuck me eyes.”

“Let go of me. You’re hurting me.” It wasn’t just that his grip on my arm was tight. The way he was looking at me was scaring me. Invoking my bravado, I shouted, “Fuck you, Drake.” It was the wrong move. I knew it as soon as I’d said it.

“Fuck me. Fuck me, huh?” He didn't look like the man I knew and loved. He wore so much anger on his face.

“I’ll show what it’s like to fuck me.” His hand moved to my throat, and choked me. He undid his belt buckle, shoved his pants down, then mine. He pushed inside of me, and let up on my throat only enough to keep me from passing out. It hurt.

Tears poured down my face. I scratched and clawed, but Drake kept pushing in. He was a monster. When he came, he squeezed even harder. Black and purple dots clouded my vision. I pulled at Drake's arms, but my body went limp. I was taken by the blackness.

When I came to, I was on the ground, alone. I was wearing only a T-shirt. My pants were still on the ground where Drake had left them. I sat up, and my body hurt everywhere. I glanced at the clock. It was just after three in the morning.

I couldn't believe he’d done this to me. Years ago, I ran from the only house I’d ever known to escape abuse, and here I was—right smack in the middle of it again.

I had to leave him. I had to get away. I slowly stood, wincing as I did. My throat hurt. My body was stiff and sore. I opened my dresser and grabbed a pair of underwear and sweatpants. I pulled on another shirt, and the new bottoms, then grabbed a backpack and started filling it with clothes and my jewelry. I caught sight of myself in the mirror. Light bruises were already beginning to form on my neck.

My hair was a tangled mess, and the makeup I’d had on earlier had run down my face. I looked pathetic. It reminded me of my mother and how she’d so often look. I wondered if she'd loved my dad? I wondered if she'd felt betrayed like I did? I had to leave. I was not thinking about what I’d say or do if I saw Drake, I was thinking that I needed to leave. I needed to get far away from him. The pit in my stomach began to grow. I felt heartbroken. I loved Drake so much, but to do this to me, did he even love me? Did he ever? What kind of man could put his hands on his wife like this? He was not the type of man I thought he was. I had to be brave, and do it on my own. I had to go. I couldn’t be with him, even though I loved him. And God, help me, I did. I wished I could turn it off. I wished what just happened could make me instantly hate him, but I was so conflicted.

I turned the handle and paused. Could I really walk out of there, and say goodbye to my husband? I let out a sob. I was crying harder than before. I had to do this. I had to go. I pulled on the door; nothing. It was locked. The only windows in here were solid glass block windows. There was no way out, unless he let me out. Feeling defeated, I dropped my bag and sat on the queen-sized bed. I didn't know when he’d be back, but I was tired. So very tired. I was sore. So very sore and heartbroken.

I curled up into a tight ball and turned towards the wall and cried. I cried so long my eyes became heavy, and before I knew it, I was drifting off to sleep. I woke up to the feel of Drake’s arms secured tightly around me. He wasn’t moving. His eyes were closed, and his breathing seemed even. Maybe he was asleep, and I could get out of here without him knowing. I attempted to slide out from his arms, but they tightened around me.

“Don’t go,” he whispered, pain etched into his voice. He sounded vulnerable. “I’m sorry. I don't know what came over me. I just get so angry, sometimes. I shouldn't have done that to you.”

Tears slid down my face, and he reached out to brush them away. I flinched. It was subtle, but he noticed.

“No, Marie. I won’t hurt you. Never again, baby. I’m sorry. I was high. I know it’s no excuse, but that shit I took last night was whack. I’ll never touch it again. Stay with me. Forgive me.”

He was sincere. . He looked like he was afraid of himself, or afraid I’d leave. I’d never seen him look scared before. Either way, there was a fear there I’d never seen before.

“You... you hurt me. You promised never to hurt me, but this hurts so bad.” I wasn't even talking about my throat. The thing was, I’d been hit plenty of times. I’d just never expected my husband to do it. He began to stroke my back as I cried.

“I love you, Marie. I love you so much it makes me crazy. I don't know what I’d do, if you left me.” He kissed the top of my head, then placed small kisses all over my face. He was tender. More tender than he’d ever been. I wanted to push him away, but at the same time, he was the only real comfort I’d ever had.

He rubbed his fingers over my throat gently. I closed my eyes. I didn't want to look at him. I wanted to hate him. Drake’s hands moved under my shirt to my stomach. He rubbed me soothingly. Still not looking at him, I felt him shift then I felt his lips on my stomach. He kissed me slowly, marking every inch of my skin.

“Drake, no.” I tried to turn away from him, but he was persistent.

“Let me love you.”

I don't know why, but I didn't object. I didn’t stop Drake when he took my breast into his mouth, and I didn’t stop him when he pulled down my sweatpants. Nor, did I tell him to stop when his head was between my legs kissing me softly. He was loving me the only way he knew how. It was tender. It was kind. Never in my life, when I’d taken a beating, did I have comfort afterward. Not that I’d want this type of comfort, but I’d never had someone hold me and tell me they were sorry. My mom was always too broken to heal my pain, and Dear Old Dad was never sorry, but Drake was different. Drake loved me.

Days passed before I went back to work. Drake wanted to make sure his marks were mostly gone. I let him love me. He’d been attentive, more so than usual. He watched me intently, making sure I was not leaving him.