“Not now. Maybe—”
He yanked back the sheets, but when I raised my fists to block him, he pummeled my eye again, the bruise searing. Then he mounted me. Everything inside of me shut down, my eyes vacant. The bedroom ceiling was adorned in gold, red, and blue hues, a renaissance-styled fairytale painting that came to life, full of women in long maroon robes draped around them, like princesses and fairies chained down by expensive fabrics. Every night, they peered at each other with questions in their eyes. I imagined myself among them, painted in yellow, a fairy spirit of my own. I blinked, pretending I was up there now, ignoring the pains in my body, pretending John was simply an enormous robe wrapping tighter around me.
Stay silent,I thought.Stay still.Do as you’re told.
The blue and yellow strokes of paint danced over the ceiling, swirling into a vortex. The bed jerked back and forth, and I let him impale me. I didn’t make a sound when he dug his fingernails into my thighs. I didn’t groan when he hit my cervix. I didn’t care when he threw his head back, howling like an animal.
He retreated, his eyes watering and tired, and I blinked until everything washed away. I waited for him to move to his side of the bed and give me peace. But this time, he sat up.
“Close your eyes,” he said, “and give me your arm.”
I flinched, squinting at him in the dim light. “What? Why?”
He leaned in closer, grabbing my wrist. I shrunk back, pulling the comforter around me.
“We can do this my way,” he pulled the blanket off of my shoulders, “or your way.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but he put a finger to my lips, then lifted his fist.
“Your way it is.”
***
The painting on the ceiling was blurry, a mix of blue and gold, like the sun over an ocean. I blinked, letting it come into focus. I was in bed. It was still dark. My nightgown was bunched around my hips, and there was a damp spot between my legs. I stared up at the women on the ceiling, trying to get myself to think straight. My arms were heavy, full of lead. The women in the painting shook their heads at me, creeping back and forth as if they were alive.
John stood in the corner, straightening his tie. The balcony doors were open, letting in the night air, but he was dressed, ready to go to work. My entire world was going in reverse. I tried pushing myself up on my hands, but pain shot through my arm, circling around my neck. A small red mark dotted my bicep.
“What did you do to my arm?” I asked.
“It’s a low dose of a new injection.” He put his arms into his suit jacket. “My employees have been working on a side project for me.”
Why did I care? It was already in my body. But I asked anyway: “What side project?”
“It will help you be a better wife.”
Finally, I pushed myself up, but when I tried to clench my fist, my fingers were too weak. What kind of injection was this?
“I added a muscle relaxant as well,” he said. “We can always up the dosage.”
I curled my fingers—or tried to—but my fingers flinched in my lap. My head was light and dizzy, an ache crawling between my legs.
John stepped closer, his eyes pinned on me. “Do you want to question me again, darling?” he asked. Each tap of his shoes made my heart beat faster. My skin still stung with his touch. Pain pounded through my nose.
“No,” I said.
“No,what?”
“No, I don’t want to challenge you, darling.” I lowered my eyes to the ground, hating myself. But I couldn’t escalate. It was better to play along. To say whatever he wanted me to say.
“Good.” He faced the door. “I’ve got a report to finish. I’ll be home in a few hours.”
“Goodnight,” I said. I bit the inside of my lip, taking in a quick breath. The door closed behind him, and a shudder escaped me. I wailed into a pillow.
Using my better hand, I splashed cool water over my eye in the bathroom, then let the water run over my legs. I scrubbed everything out, trying to get him off of me. Then I gingerly pulled on my silk robe, one of the many John had imported from me. I walked to the balcony, overlooking the backyard, vibrant with a botanical garden and a pond. But I didn’t see any of that anymore. I stared up at the empty sky. How was I going to get out of this? Was that even a real possibility?
In the distance of my neighbor’s property, a figure shifted in the shadows, coming into the light. It was a man with dark hair and eyes. My heart raced as I recognized him; it was the same man who had cornered me in the shop.Dalton doesn’t have time for you,he had said,but I do.
He was watching me, and he wasn’t trying to hide it.
