FUCK! What was I thinking? That’s really a loaded question now, isn’t it? With my head down and hood up, I look over my aviators at the outdated clock on the wall above the ticket booth. Two forty-five AM. I look at the worn ticket in my hand, again for the thousandth time. Departure time: five AM. Alone at a bus station in Tallahassee isn’t the most dangerous situation I have ever been in, but even I know it’s not safe at this hour. I decide on the safest location I can find and settle in.
Sunglasses tint the scene around me and as much as I need to keep my vision clear and alert, I need the coverage even more. Women with busted lips and lovely shades of purple coloring their eyes tend to draw attention, and attention is exactly what I don’t need. I can’t cover the bruising around my neck, so I keep my hood pulled up high. Shifting in on the bench, I realize getting comfortable is a lost cause. A couple of my ribs are bruised. Repositioning once again to take the pressure off my left ribcage, I inhale as deep as the burning sensation will allow. I try to stay alert and on-guard, but my mind keeps playing the last ten years of my life on repeat like a goddamn Lifetime movie marathon.
I first met Mark at a college party. I was nineteen, broke, uneducated, and hopping from one friend’s couch to another. That had been my life since my mom overdosed and the state stopped chasing me back to foster homes. I’d been on my own for a while and I knew that I could never amount to anything if I stayed in Oklahoma. I had no idea where to go or what to do but I knew staying wasn’t an option. I was forever branded the product of a meth addict. I managed to get my GED and hitched a ride from rural Oklahoma to the driver’s destination—Tallahassee. I don’t really know what I was looking for in Florida, but I sure as shit didn’t find it.
Mark was probably the most charismatic person I had ever met. Everything about him from his hair to his shoes screamed social status. In retrospect, that probably should have been my first clue. He had just finished law school and was preparing to take the state bar exam. I don’t know if he didn’t realize my age or just didn’t care, but that should have been clue number two. He spoke so proudly about everything he planned to do. He had a plan to clean up the city, a fact that gave me a serious case of hero worship. In his eyes, he was a king and his father, Governor Langford put him on a pedestal. The Langford’s were Florida’s golden family. I was an orphan who worked part time as a receptionist at a tattoo and piercing studio, sported more ink than some rock stars, had no formal education, and cursed more than a Marine. Needless to say, when Mark directed his smile my direction, I was a goner. I was curious why he had picked me, but honestly, I was too afraid to question it. Now, I realize I was a challenge. He’d stayed because he knew he could manipulate me.
We had what I imagine grandmothers referring to a whirlwind romance. Mark was everything a woman could ask for in a man. His career took off so fast I don’t think either of us were prepared for it. We had been seeing each other a couple of months when he asked me to move in with him. It had been the best two months of my life. I was, for all intents and purposes, homeless, and already staying with him several nights a week. It just seemed to make sense. I want to believe that I had done it to survive. A roof over my head, food to eat and such. But no. I was so in love that it didn’t matter that we had only been together two months. With him working so many hours, I wanted to be there to care for him. It was the least I could do.
At that point, I had only seen one concerning part of Mark’s personality. He was incredibly jealous. The busboy at a restaurant couldn’t look my direction for too long. He hated when I read my favorite romance novels. He said I was his and he should be the only man in my mind. At the time I was naive enough to swoon at his overly controlling ways. I loved that he was so in love with me that the thought of another man touching me put him in a rage. I remind myself, I never had any kind of positive role model or loving parent to guide me through life decisions. Hindsight and all that.
Mark proposed to me six months after I moved it with him. I was so deliriously in love. We were alone at home, nothing special going on. As we prepared for bed, he gently grabbed my arm to turn me in his direction. He knelt down on one knee and presented a small velvet box. Tears pricked my eyes at the sight before me. He opened the box to reveal the most beautiful diamond solitaire I had ever seen. The damn thing had to have cost more than a car. With a smile spread across his face he spoke the most precious words I thought I’d ever hear.
“Teagan, you are the light of my life. Waking up next to you is the only thing that keeps me going. I could never picture my future without you and I hope I never have to. Will you marry me?”
My hands shook so hard he could barely get the ring on my finger as I whispered “yes” over and over.
That night, we celebrated our love with too much champagne. I could get into rough sex, but Mark acted in a way I had never seen him before. That night, something inside of him clawed to the surface. And over the next year, it would slowly consume the man I loved.
It started sweet and sexy when he tossed me on our bed. He immediately covered my body with his, resting between my open thighs. He slid his hand up my thigh and under the dress I was wearing.
“Whose pussy is this?” he growled close to my ear.
“Yours!” I cried out as he ran a finger down my center and thrust it between my legs. I bucked my hips trying to get myself closer to the pleasure.
“You like that, don’t you? You’re so wet for me.” Without warning, he tossed me onto my stomach. The force in which he did it caused the headboard to bounce off the wall. My brain scrambled to process this new behavior when suddenly, I was free of my panties and Mark’s cock was teasing my entrance. On my hands and knees ready for him, he pushed all the way in until he was fully seated. I moaned at the sudden intrusion. He drew his hand back and smacked me across my bare ass. It stung but there was a pleasure I couldn’t deny. It turned me on and I bucked into him, a rush of wetness coated his cock as he continued to tease me.
“You liked that, didn’t you.”
Once again without warning, he drew his hand back and slapped my ass, much harder than he had before. I screamed out in pain, my skin burned like a series of bee stings. That definitely crossed the line from pleasure to pain. I tried to crawl out from beneath him, but his hand on my shoulder held me in place. My pleas only seemed to feed his need as he pounded into me harder. He spanked me a few more times, eliciting tears as I buried my face into the pillow.
I knew he wouldn’t stop now.
He grabbed hold of my arm hard enough that I knew it was going to bruise and flipped me back over to face his front. My breathing was ragged as his mouth crashed down on me painfully. The wetness flowing from my eyes never once fazed him. It felt like he was getting off on hurting me. A small part of my soul died that day. I felt it chip off, falling into the abyss.
Wrapping his hands around my neck, he squeezed tighter as he entered me again. Anger filled my senses and I started to push him off but the alcohol in my system made my stomach churn and my movements slow. He leaned over to my ear and whispered “Be still now. Women love this, I promise. I’ll take care of you.”
His tone was tender, almost loving, yet something more sinister laced the edges. Nothing about this felt right. Resuming his actions, the vise around my neck constricted and I started to panic. Raw fear fueled my senses, but I could do nothing about it. At six-foot-tall and one hundred and ninety pounds, Mark was so much larger than my five foot five, one hundred and twenty-pound frame. I didn’t stand a chance.
I couldn’t catch my breath. Slapping wildly against his arms to gain his attention was a useless endeavor. In that moment, he wasn’t capable of focusing on anything but himself.
That was the first time my body lost consciousness at Mark’s hands.
When I finally came to, the next morning, I ambled out of bed wishing the whole night had been nothing more than one of those fucked up vivid nightmares. But the way my body ached with every movement told me the nightmare had been in fact, reality.
When I finally gathered the nerve to face the man I loved, I found Mark humming to himself as he made breakfast.
“Hey, you’re up,” he stated as he rounded the kitchen island to pull me into a tight hug. “How’s my bride-to-be?”
I was speechless. Too many thoughts running through my head. How was I supposed to process this kind of behavior? Maybe I was just being too sensitive. He was caught up in the moment. Maybe it’s just a ‘normal’ kinky move and I wasn’t prepared.
Unsure of how I should proceed, I just nodded my head with a confused smile and took a seat at the island. The moment my ass hit the seat, I could feel exactly how sensitive it was. How could the man who likes it that rough be the same man in front of me? My sweet, sensitive Mark… It didn’t make sense.
After breakfast, I went into the bathroom, preparing to start my day. Undressing, I take a long look in the mirror. My mind refused to accept the information my eyes transferred. It was like a terrible car accident or an ASPCA commercial; no matter how tragic the sight was, I couldn’t look away. I barely stifled a scream. My eyes were puffy and swollen from crying and the skin on my neck was the color of a predawn sky. Finger imprints were visible within the myriad of color. Turning around, I noticed bruising on my upper arms between the tattoos that decorate my skin.
Then my eyes traveled toward my back side. The globes of my ass were bruised red and purple, and once again, the impressions of his hand were visible on my tender flesh.
Doing what I do best, I pushed aside the bubbling emotion and stepped into the shower. The previous night played over and over again in my head as the warm spray cascaded down my battered body. Stepping out, I wrapped myself in a robe and strode out in search of Mark. By that point, I was pissed. The more I thought about it the more pissed I became. I hadn’t realized it until that moment, but I was seeking justification for his actions.
I found Mark in his office shuffling documents around the desk.
“We need to talk about the shit you pulled last night.” He turned to face me with a look of weariness. Dramatically, I dropped the robe to the floor and bared myself, naked. He needed to see what he had done.
“This is NOT okay!” I yelled, an angry hurt dropped from my words. “Why did you think it was okay to put your hands on me like that?”
His eyes raked over me as he took in my appearance, processing what he saw. The flood of emotion on his handsome face looked tortured and earnest. Dropping to his knees, he wrapped his arms around me tightly. Soft tears streaked his face when he looked me in the eyes.
“Teagan baby, I am so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I—I didn’t realize I was hurting you.” He burrowed his face into my stomach, and I could feel the wetness of his tears on my skin. Combined with the shudder I felt in his shoulders, I believed he really was sorry.
“Fine, but you have some serious groveling to do.”
The next few months passed quickly. After the bruises faded, neither of us spoke of that night again. Things between us were beyond great. I felt like I was finally home. Somewhere I belonged.
On the day of our wedding, I couldn’t contain my happiness. I wanted to sing, to show my mom that I could do better for myself. With Mark by my side, I could be anything I wanted to be. Right then, I just wanted to be Mrs. Langford.
I stared intently at myself in the mirror. Mark had insisted I wear a classic long-sleeved gown. I had vivid, intricate tattoos on both arms that stopped at my elbows. He felt I should look more conservative being the wife of the future District Attorney. Apparently, my naturally auburn hair didn’t look the part either. He was persistent that blonde would be much more suitable for me.
That was the day I lost another part of my soul. I lost who I was.
From that point on, I only wore Mark-approved clothing in public. His family had an image to uphold and now that I was family, I had to look and act the part. I have grown to really hate beige. Such a lifeless color.
His family was nice to me, even though his mother looked at me like I was a common street whore. She never once voiced a negative word, but her tone said it all. The same back handed compliments we all received from cheerleaders in high school.
“Normally that color looks so cheap, but it works for you.” She’d say with a forged smile. She was too concerned with her image to allow such a vile look as disgust to grace her beautiful face.
Mark was an only child and his father boasted on him every chance he got. Governor Langford was a cutthroat Politician who fought desperately for what he thought was right. He rarely lost, which made him cocky. Just like his son. He was much kinder to me than his wife. He accepted me into his home with a warm invitation. I had grown fond of Mr. Langford and it was nice to have a father figure to look up to.
About a year into our marriage, we were hosting a dinner party for his work associates. He was then an assistant DA with his eye on the prize. That night was going to further his political agenda.
I was in the kitchen gathering more platters of food when the current DA, Mark’s boss, strutted in.
“There you are. A woman as beautiful as you shouldn’t be hiding out in the kitchen.”
I blushed at the older man’s compliment.
“I’ll be out in just a moment. Just getting a few things together,” I replied, trying to hurry so I could get back to our guests.
“Let me know when you decide to stop wasting time with that kid. I’m ready for wife number four and I think I’ll go young and pretty this time”. He smiled at me and I knew it was all in good fun. He didn’t make me feel uncomfortable at all.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I responded as he chuckled and headed down the hall toward the restroom.
Movement caught my eye and I turned, noticing Mark in the next room and he was staring at me, his face filled with rage. Before I could attempt to process what that was about, his expression shifted, and someone pulled him into conversation.
As soon as the last guest was shown the door, Mark turned to me with an expression I’d never seen grace his handsome face.
“What the fuck was that about?” he screamed.
“What was what about?” I asked, genuinely confused.
“You throwing yourself at my boss, that’s what!”
“I didn’t throw myself at anyone! He made a joke, Mark. You do know what those are, right?”
The next thing I knew, he had me by the hair and struck me across the face. He hit me so fast I didn’t even get the opportunity to defend myself.
“You really are nothing but a white-trash whore. I should have listened to my father.”
Listened to his father? What?
That was the first time he put his hands on me in anger, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last.