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No.
My heart drops harshly in my stomach, nausea pushing up.
“N-now?”
He rolls his eyes and undoes his tie. “Have something better to do?”
“No.” I hurry toward him. “Of course not.” I help him get rid of his tie and drop a kiss on his cheek. I need to appease him, to change his mind. “Just I was thinking of cooking you a nice breakfast. Pancakes, some eggs. Maybe with some fresh fruits.”
I don’t miss the fact that I’m describing Lik’s exact breakfast as I unbutton the first buttons of his shirt.
“And then I thought we could go shopping, maybe? I’m still looking for the shoes to go with the dress.”
I run a hand on his chest, softly playing with the hair there.
“Mm, that sounds like an amazing day,” he nods, closing his eyes.
And we do exactly that.
Right after he raped me to try and impregnate me.
Right after I cried in the shower. Not because of what he did, or at least not entirely. No, I cried at my stupidity. For thinking I could escape him, that a couple of times meeting Sam and him teaching me to be in command, or that a few times controlling Rose, was making me a stronger person.
I cried because had I just shut up and taken it instead of playing smart, he would have just done it and left me alone. Instead, I had a whole day with him and an evening with him and my parents.
I felt alone, at the bottom of a pit I would never get out of. And the despair was choking me.
* * *
After dinner with my parents, Conor and I are driven home by our chauffeur. We have nothing to say to each other, so we stay silent. The dinner was awful—three hours of bullying from my mother and Conor. The only good news was that he’s off to New York for a two-week placement and I’m going to be all alone.
The silence in the car is heavy. The window that separates us from our driver is up, and I can’t relax, knowing he could attack me at any time.
“We’ll try again when we get home,” he says without even looking at me.
A sigh of despair leaves my lungs before I can stop it. “Maybe…” Thousands of thoughts flit through my mind, scanning excuses I’ve used and ones I haven’t mentioned in a while. “Maybe we should do it less and with more efficiency. Start tracking when I’m ovulating and—”
His cold laugh cuts me off. “Rachel, do you think I’m blind? That I don’t see the stupid excuses and the stalling? Unlike you, I have a fully functioning brain and am not completely stupid.”
“Stop always saying I’m stupid,” I hiss without being able to stop myself. He raises an eyebrow and I shake my head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just…I’m just tired. I—”
His slap is so solid it snaps my head to the side. A whimper accompanies the taste of blood in my mouth.
“Brainless,stupidgirl.” His words are slow, cold, and a dare to answer back. I don’t. All I try to do is choke back a sob, barely managing. “Never talk to me that way again.”
“I’m sorry,” I squeak. My hand comes up to my cheek. It’s burning with shame and the hit.
“Shut up.”
And the irony in all that? He asks our chauffeur to stop by the 24/7 convenience store just outside Stoneview. So we can buy an ovulation tracking kit.
Conor has just tapped his card on the machine when I hear a few laughs behind us that I recognize all too well. I turn around to watch Rose and her two best friends, Luke and Chris, enter the store.
Great, this night couldn’t have gone worse. Luke is the first one to notice us.
“Rachel!” he exclaims, coming our way. I look down at myself. The floral knee-length dress I’m wearing is a far stretch from the Rolling Stones t-shirt and leather skirt I was wearing yesterday. But I don’t get to pick my clothes with Conor.
Rose’s eyes are on me in a split second, and I’m suddenly filled with shame.
