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But I didn’t care.
As he dragged me through the house, pulling at my still-healing shoulder and showing off all his possessions, his disgusting touch tugged at me, drawing all my strength until my legs were wobbling so much I was struggling to walk.
Finally, he showed me to the bedroom. I gulped as I crossed the threshold and looked around. Not out of interest for the room, but to look for things he could use to hurt me. The unassuming weapons were always the most painful and betraying.
“And this, dear wife, is where you’ll stay for the next couple of hours.” He threw me onto the bed, and my whole body stiffened as fear rushed through me.
Hours? Hours? It would take hours?
I thought sex lasted minutes, not hours, and the thought of him being with me … on me … in me … for that length of time made me nauseous.
It will be all right. You will survive this. Just pretend you are somewhere else.
But a louder voice in my mind swallowed that voice.Why would you want to survive? What do you have to live for? A life of servitude, abuse? Children you couldn’t protect, or worse, who were like their father? Is that what you want?
No, of course not,I argued.
You aren’t doing anything to prevent that future right now.
The voice was right. I lay prostrate on the bed, awaiting whatever god-awful act my husband wished to inflict upon me. I was a willing, broken victim.
I turned quickly and shuffled away until I fell to the other side of the bed.
Mr. Jenkins laughed in a way that reminded me he was evil, that even the slightest touch from him was unexplainably painful. As though his touch was poison.
Coming to the side of the bed, he grabbed my ankle and yanked me forward. I yelped and kicked out uselessly, clinging to the foot of the bed, but he only laughed and dodged my foot while pulling the other.
“I don’t have time to play with you, my jewel. I’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” he growled, becoming impatient with my struggling.
His fist grabbed my dress, and he tore it as he pulled it away from my legs, baring my undergarments to him.
My heartbeat stuttered, and I screamed.
No. Please. God, don’t let this happen. Please. Save me.
He slapped his large hand over my mouth and muffled my scream. Tears pricked at my eyes, and my head swam with panic, but I continued to fight. I needed to fight.
I heard the clink of his belt as his other hand pulled it free of his trousers. I whimpered, and his hand over my mouth moved down to my throat and gripped tightly.
“You are mine to use, jewel. In any way I please. You need to resign yourself to that fate now. It will hurt less.” His belt dropped to the floor, and his hand cupped my mons. Everything inside me clenched as his finger sought entrance.
No.
My fear turned to anger. Despite my weakness from weeks of neglect, my mind used the last of my strength to focus, to ignore the bone-aching sensation from his touch, to push energy into getting away. I spat at him.
My saliva hit his cheek, and the world seemed to slow down. The black of his iris swallowed the white of his eye, which flashed yellow. He sat back on his heels and wiped his cheek with the cuff of his white shirt sleeve. Anger flushed his cheeks, and he bared his teeth in a snarl. His hand wrapped around the belt.
“I’ll have to teach you how to respect your husband first.”
In seconds, he rolled me onto my stomach, ripped open the back of my dress, and pinned me, kneeling painfully and heavily on my thighs. My arms were useless. I couldn’t reach anything to help me. I couldn’t reach back to push him.
The pain that ripped through me at the first slash of his belt across my bare back was unbearable. Black spots appeared in front of my eyes. My hands clenched so hard my fingernails dug into my palms. A scream ripped out from me, loud and shrill and full of the pain that rattled through every tiny part of my body.
Father had used a belt to beat me once before, but it didn’t feel like this. This felt like fire and lightning. I heard it whip before the strike lashed my skin. And I realized on the third hit that I was being beaten by the metal side of the belt. It gouged out skin and tissue and caused blood to pour down my sides.
At some point, I stopped feeling. I stopped counting. I lay motionless, staring at a crack in the floor under the bed.
He lifted off my thighs and then parted them.
