Ivy

“You bitch. You really think I’ll let you sleep naked next to me.” I’m woken to a smack to my head, blinding light from Drew’s phone in my face, the smell of whiskey breath and a half hard dick trying to glide between my legs.

My fingers dig into the sheets as my fists squeeze in a silent plea to hold Drew’s weight. I can’t catch my breath. My chest throbs, my lungs catch and release. My everything hurts.

The throb between my legs is brutal. Disgustingly raw.

Despite the beat down he gave me, I found sleeping on my stomach is much more comfortable than any other position. For some odd reason, it’s alleviated a little pressure from the aches and pains.

“Of course not.” I swallow. I’ve been down this long lonely road with him many times. I was hoping after what occurred a few hours ago he’d leave me be when he came home. Proves how stupid I am. Proves even more how a crazy man can flip his switches.

Years ago, when he first started coming home drunk and mumbling shit about his opposing counsel. I’d think I was being punished for them pissing him off. Like maybe they angered him so much that his mind closed off, and when it reopened, to him I was someone else. Typically, I’d discarded those thoughts out of my head just as quickly as they appeared because to Drew, I was his punching bag no matter what kind of mood he was in.

However, tonight as I fight against my aching ribs I’m beginning to believe he hates me for not loving him, or he hates himself for wanting a woman who loathes the sight of him.

The reason why he does this shouldn’t matter. What matters is how long I’d lived in hell and how much I hate myself for letting it continue.

I laid on my stomach the entire night thinking about my father before I dosed in a fitful sleep. How seeing me this way would have killed him before the lasting effects of his stroke did. He might not have been able to communicate with words after the stroke, but he could with his eyes, he could with a nod of his head or a weak squeeze of his hand. He would have understood. He would have been proud that I stood up and not continued to be a victim.

I can’t do it anymore. I’m lost and angry. On the verge of giving up on life. Because if this is how I’m going to spend the rest of it, I’d rather die at my own hand then give Drew the satisfaction of killing me himself. I should just do it. The next time I walk out the door by myself. I should drive straight to one of the many bridges in this city, get out and jump.

Then again, that’s what he wants. He wants to break me until I’m left with no options. I need to find a way to escape. Disappear without a trace and start over, or else find the courage to kill him.

I’m twenty-eight years old, and I’ve wasted my life out of fear. I’m a shattered, weak and pathetic excuse for a woman. Allowing him to control me has only made me even weaker when I’d believed being a survivor of rape, domestic and verbal abuse had made me strong.

I tense when he gets on his haunches, spreads my legs and glides his hands up to palm my ass.

“The client’s wife was a gorgeous bitch. She reminded me of you. Wonder if she lost her sex drive the way you did. I need to fuck my wife. Get in the middle of the bed, Ivy.”

Maybe she hates him as much as I do you.

I hate how he says my name. Hate how he demands me to do what he wants. Most of all, I hate how I bend to him. I’m not doing it anymore. If he wants to fuck his wife, he’ll have to do it after he’s beaten me unconscious.

“You’re drunk, Drew.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. The tightly wound ball of hatred I hold tightly to singes my mind. I want to kill him.

“I’m not drunk enough, sweetheart. Wouldn’t matter if I was. You don’t ever deny me what’s mine.” He chuckles. I hold in my flinch and vomit when his fingertips trace from my jaw to my temple. “Things could have been different for you and me if you would forget about a man who can’t love you back. In the beginning, I gave you everything. I took care of your father instead of killing him. The man was half dead, and I let him live, for you. That wasn’t enough for you, was it, Ivy? This home, your car, clothes. Freedom to roam the city. None of it was enough to make you forget him and love me, was it?”

It could have been if you weren’t some deranged monster.

Anger crawls out from under my skin.

“Fuck you. I would have killed you if you had hurt my dad. Whatever game you’re trying to play isn’t working. I hate you. I’ve hated everything about you for years, Drew. I hate the way you smell. I hate the way you look, dress, eat. I hate myself for not trying to run into that fire to save the man I love. You will never compare to him.”

The possibility that I’ll never be able to escape him has me wanting to land on death’s doorstep. I’m over this. All I’ve been doing is laying down when I should be standing tall. Making a life for myself while forgetting the mistake I made by marrying him. I’m going to push him until he snaps faster than normal, and I know he will. He’s going to attack me with his fists again. But, I’m going to survive, and somehow I’m going to get away from him.

“You don’t scare me, you know? You hate me for not loving you. You hate me for Cade living in my heart and not you. Isn’t that right? You are so obsessed with me that you’ve taken it upon yourself to choose my destiny. You don’t get to choose for me anymore. Either kill me, or when I get the chance, I’m going to kill you and believe me, there’s going to come a day when I’ll have one.”

At that, he starts to laugh malevolently like the crazy man he is. I push upward with my hands, my legs shaking, muscles yelling to lie back down as they stretch and moan in agony. I’m playing with a fire that’s bound to destroy me, and I know it. My hand flies up, and I grab a handful of his hair. He flops down beside me with that condescending, smug look on his face. It pisses me off so much that I slap him across his face as hard as I can.

I have nowhere to go when he grabs my arms, twists my body plastering my back to his front. “Fuck you Drew St. James. Fuck you straight to hell.”

“You tried once and didn’t succeed. You’re too weak to try again. Why would I be living in hell when putting your mind, body, and soul through it is the one thing I live for? I’m in heaven, darling. Fucking heaven watching you suffer. Let me tell you something else. Don’t take me for a drunken fool, Ivy. Being drunk doesn’t mean I don’t know my wife. You’re plotting. Wheels are spinning in that pretty head of yours. Think twice about leaving, think twice about wanting to die. Let’s see how much more your body can endure for that stupid as fuck move you just made. I’m going to make you pay dearly for that. I’m done having you test my patience. You will never hit me again.”

I’ve been with him long enough to know he’s going to do whatever he wants no matter what. So, I continue on with my goading because if this is my destiny, then I want it to end right here.

“You are so much different from your brother in every possible way, Drew. Cade would never call this love. He would call it for what it is. A sick man who nobody gives a shit about. A creature which everyone uses for his looks and money. You think those women I know you fuck, want you? They don’t see the real you. You seek comfort from them out of desperation when you fuck them. You want someone to give a shit for just a little while. Only they don’t. They all hope you’ll leave your wife for them because they want your money. They don’t want you, Drew. No one does. And here I thought I was the pathetic one for staying with you as long as I did. You’re the pathetic one. That’s what I see when I look at you. That’s what I see when I drive my fancy car. That’s what I see when I pull into this monstrosity of a tomb. Pathetic.”

His fist comes down on my back, knocking the air out of my lungs. I claw at the sheets trying to get away, but he’s quick to latch onto them with one hand. I hear the metal clang of his buckle coming undone, the hiss of the leather flinging through the air. I kick and scream, fight with all I have in me to get him off, to try and stop him from weaving his belt around my hands, but it’s a wasted effort with his size and my banged up body.

“Drew, stop, please.” My voice quivers around the salty taste of my tears.

“Just remember when we go to BURN tomorrow night, and you can barely move, you asked for it. And you will move, Ivy. You’ll shake your sweet ass for my guests and me.” His words aren’t a request. They never are. How he expects me to sit there and pretend he didn’t violate and beat me proves how crazy he is.

I suck in a sharp breath when he plunges inside of me. My body obvious only to me I’m not ready to take him. I rarely am. I’m on all fours, my head on the comforter while he takes from me. Plunging his dick in and out with brutal pounds against my dryness and wounds. I’m so sore down there I wish I were dead.

I whimper around his heavy, thrusting weight. More tears leak from the corner of my eyes as he pushes in hard and deep. “He’s not the one fucking you, is he? He’s not the one who's going to come inside of you? He’s not the one you smell like. You want to die, you stupid woman. You’ll die after you give me what I want.”

Please God, don’t ever let me get pregnant by this man. I won’t survive if I do.

He molds his front to my back, fingers digging into the bruises on my sides. Each thrust of his cock burns and blends into the darkness I’ve come to live in. I reach for my memories of Cade, longing for his face to cloak me in comfort, but Drew’s grunts in my ear keep me in reality.

“Christ,” he roars. His dirty release spilling inside of me. Tears continue to fall down my cheeks, each drop a reminder that I might never get away to find myself.

“That was a reminder of who you belong to. What’s coming next is because you brought up his name. I think you do want to die, don’t you?” I remain speechless as he continues to rant, grabbing me by my hair and throwing my naked, injured body onto the floor.

He stumbles, chuckles, shakes his head and lands a fist into my back.

I cough and wheeze.

It doesn’t matter to him that he’d kicked me hours ago. It doesn’t matter to him that there will be bruises over bruises. This is what he does, this is what he loves, and this is his way of marking me when he just raped me.

“Who has the control here, Ivy?” He grabs my face and wrenches it, so I’m staring into his face.

“WHO. HAS. THE. CONTROL?” he yells in my face.

His whiskey mixes with desperation.

Well, fuck him. I’m not answering.

“Oh, so now you have nothing to say, huh? No sentimental words about love and my brother? Am I scaring you now? You should be scared. It didn’t have to come to this, but you leave me no choice. Fuck me or beat me? Kill me or don’t? Escape or stay? Those thoughts are what’s running through your head, aren’t they? Let me do the honors by making up your mind for you.”

Something snaps in me. I turned wild, kicking and screaming and yelling. “Stop. You do not get to tell me what to do or who to be. I hate you. Do you hear me, you vile, disgusting human? I hate you.”

Whatever fate has in store for me, this time. This time, I’m fighting back.

Tears fall down my face. But I keep on fighting. Clawing and scratching my nails anywhere I can connect with his skin. I hate this man more than I want to die. More than I want my freedom that after tonight I’ll surely never get.

“You’ll do as I say or I’ll take away someone you love. You aren’t going to be able to walk for a week for drawing my blood.” He stands above me, his legs caging me in on either side of my head.

There are only two people in this world I care about. My best friend Casey and her daughter.

“You wouldn’t.” I wheeze through heavy breathing. I’ve exerted myself. Just another long list of things I’m going to pay for.

“I would. I’ll take your best friend’s little girl and sell her.”

I believe he means what he says. I cave. Give in to the monster standing above me.

Maybe, just maybe if I close my eyes so I don’t have to see him, it will shut him out of my head, to close myself off from the fact that he is about to do God knows what, but I can’t. All I see is him and the feral way he is looking down at me.

Either I’ll survive this, or I’ll die.

I’ve withstood this man many times before. However, when his fist connects brutally with my mouth, his rage more severe, his kicks more untamed. It’s before I black out that I see something hidden in his glassed over eyes.

To my blurry vision, it looks a lot like fear.