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Her face contorts and goes through a million different emotions in the span of a few seconds. She finally settles on anger. I don’t know what it is that she thinks she can be angry about.
“Ask him. He’ll tell you. He’s with me. He loves me.”
“Maybe, Sonya. But did you ever sit back and ask yourself why you had to seek out the love of a taken man? Why didn’t you push for him to leave me and be with you if you’re really the one that he wants? Say what you want. I don’t care. I know what’s real and what isn’t. So do me a favor. Get. Out.”
I push back from my desk, lock my computer, and leave the office. If she didn’t want to leave, that was fine. I’d be happy to.
I wasn’t going to allow a single tear to drop in front of her. I will not give her any form of satisfaction and waste a single one on a word that she said. She had motives for things that were a lot worse than her fucking Clint. And if it is true, if he is with her, what can I really say?
***
I came home and reflected on all my emotions. How I felt about Nate, and how I felt about the people at the ranch and in the MC. Most of all, I couldn’t get over how I felt about listening to Sonya talk about fucking Clint. Loving him and being with him. I felt nothing, not even numb, just…nothing. I tried to picture her sleeping next to Nate, and it caused me to feel sadness, and maybe a little angry. I have been with Clint for years. He saved me. He helped me get away from my dad. Carried me through school and even used his connections with his best friend and got me a job using my degree. That job started me at the hospital working with Clint until I was moved out of the hospital and Sonya was moved in.
I think about our relationship and wonder if I really did love him. For the first time ever, I start looking at our relationship from the outside. If I was in a happy relationship, would I want to be with Nate? Would I kiss him and try and be with him? If I was happy in my relationship with Clint, would I feel fear when I forget to make him a date-specific breakfast and lunch? Would I have to force myself to sleep with him every time he comes to me? Which hasn’t been for months.
I go to our room and open his closet. There in the hamper are his button-ups and scrubs he had been dumping. I think back to all the times I did laundry. I haven’t washed or pressed his shirts. He sent them away to be dry-cleaned. I see there, on the top, a white shirt with cherry red lipstick smudges. How cliché. I pull it aside, and I see scrub pants. They are crusted along the waistband and crotch. I drop them and run to the bathroom and dry heave over the toilet. I had been so busy I forgot to eat. I had been stupid.
This isn’t about love with Clint and me. It is about control.But he loves me, he told me so.
I go back to my thoughts about looking at it from the outside. If this were anyone else, I would tell them to run.He's never physically hurt me and he did save me. That counts for something..right?How is it that I didn’t see what he was doing to me? He gave me just enough affection to keep me here but tore me down so much that I didn’t feel worthy enough for anyone else. He made sure that my professional life was connected to him. When I outlived my purpose at the hospital, he moved me away and brought in a new person.
I went to school for this. I learned how to help women in this same situation! Ididhelp women get out of this same situation! Here I am, sitting in the middle of the very same thing they all went through, and…. I need to leave. I need to get out. I look around this house.My house.I moved in here before Clint decided his condo was too cold. This was mine before it was ours, and now I have to leave it. I grab my phone and text Bri to see if I can stay with her for a bit. I drop my phone into my purse; I’m not waiting for a response. I know that she’ll let me stay. I know, deep down, that she cares about me. What Clint said before isn’t true. I grab a bag and start panic-packing. Positive, I have no real outfits for work, but I need to get the hell out of here. Then I remember the safe.
In the safe, he has all my documents. My passport, birth certificate, everything I need! I trusted him, but this was another control tactic he pulled on me, and I fell for it. I felt terrible and disgusted with myself. How was I so blind? How did I allow him to continue to manipulate me so easily? I could look at someone and see if they were hiding any form of abuse. Yet here I am, drowning in it.
“Drina!” I hear Clint call from the front door.
Fuck. I start to scramble and kick the bag under the bed. Trying to make it seem like I wasn’t going to leave him, but it was too late. What I wasn’t expecting was the scene in front of me. Clint coming into the room with roses and a smile on his face, which instantly dropped when he saw me scrambling.
“What’s going on?” He looks over to his closet. It doesn’t take him long to see what the issue was. I left it open and the two pieces of incriminating evidence out for everyone to see.“I can explain. I swear, Drina, baby.”
“No, it’s okay. You were stressed, and you needed someone to vent to. Someone who sees it. I get it. There’s nothing to explain.” I try to hide the waver in my voice. I’m not going to confront him. I am going to stay calm and try to stay alive in this. Play to my strength that he thinks he gave me—this is my fault. But I think my tactic was misguided.
“No, it’s not okay. I am sorry, baby! She meant nothing to me. I need you, and you need me. I know you need me, and I shouldn’t have done that. But you have been so busy, working and hanging around those people.” His voice starts to rise, and the soft, I swear this was an accident tone, changed quickly. Everything from his eyes to his posture told me that I wouldn't like what came next.“You have been with them so much. Especially thatman. Constantly running to him. Being there when he calls. Making sure he knows that you’re willing to drop everything for him. It’syour faultI went into her arms!” He charges two steps closer. I put my arms up to stop him, and thankfully, he does.
“I know. I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been the best girlfriend to you. I have been preoccupied. I’ve been allowing my job to take precedence over us. Over you. But you were right. They don’t want me. I’m sorry. I will be better going forward. But I get it if you don’t want me either. I don’t deserve you.” I pushed the tears out. I didn’t have to fake them. However, they weren’t from being upset that this was what was happening to my relationship. They are from fear. Not of him leaving me but of him in general.
In the small amount of time since he got home, he’s become more unpredictable, more erratic. I don’t know what is going to happen. I have never seen him like this before. He is stalking back and forth like he is waiting for the moment to pounce on his prey. Unfortunately, that’s me.
Suddenly, he stops. I can’t help but look away.
He stands there while my eyes are on the ground, trying to show my submission to him. Hoping and praying that it will keep me alive and safe until he leaves again and I can go. Shit! I texted Bri. She will know something is up when I don’t show up. I needed to push this along. If I could get him to see that I agree and I believe that this is all my fault, he might leave sooner rather than later. Even if he doesn’t think I believe it, if I can make it for a couple of hours, I know he’ll go back to the hospital. He always does. He’s always there where Sonya is, where anyone who isn’t me is.
“Audrina,” I feel his hand on my neck. It slides to the back of my head, and he grips my hair and pulls my head back to meet his eye.“You are mine. You aren’t going anywhere. I know why you are really understanding. You’re going to take my one mistake and use it to your advantage. You’re going to run into the arms of that piece of shit fucking biker, aren’t you? AREN’T YOU?!” He screams in my face, throwing me to the ground.
“No, I swear, Clint. There is nothing going on with us! I swear,” I cry out. Crying out in hopes that he believes me and crying out due to the rug burn on my palms from stopping myself on the rug. Even if I wanted to admit to the kiss Nate and I shared, that plan went out the window. If this is how he’s getting because he thinks something has happened—I don’t want to know what would happen if he found out it did.
I’m not saying what I did was right. I know it was wrong. But fuck, I can’t bring myself to tell him the truth. Not when the eyes of a killer are staring back at me. Eyes I’ve never seen until now.
“I know for a fucking fact there is! Ask me how I know! ASK ME!!!” He crouches down, forcing me to look him in the eyes again. His voice sounds like it was full of gravel. He knows the truth. He somehow found out. But to him, what I did was worse. What he’s done, it’s nothing compared to what I did. I can hear it in his voice and see it in his eyes. The only one that did anything wrong was me.
“Why do you think there is something going on?” I whisper. His face goes from red and angry to calm, but the fury is still in his eyes. It’s terrifying, and it’s now that I know I’m not leaving this house.
“I saw you throw yourself at him. I saw you become this needy whore, begging for him. And then, you know what else I saw happen?” My heart stops. How does he know about this? I try and keep my features schooled even though tears still pour down my face.“I saw him reject you and leave. So if you think he is going to take your needy whorish ass, you are mistaken. No one wants you. No one.”
He pushes my face into the carpet, the friction burning my cheek. My nose is smashed. The pain from the force of it hitting the ground makes me fear he broke it. I cry out, and he lets go. I sense him standing, but then a sharp pain hits my side. I roll and see him winding up to kick me again. I try and cry out, but I cannot catch my breath. He yanks me off the floor, and I can hardly stand. Taking advantage of that, he grabs me by the scruff of my neck and drags me from the bedroom. He doesn’t attempt to move me and prevents me from moving myself to the center of the doorway, so my head hits the door frame hard. I can almost see stars. He brings me to the living room and throws me down in front of the couch. The same couch where Nate and I had shared a kiss.
“This is our place, our home. You turned it into a whore house! Even I had the decency not to bring my dalliances into our home! You’re a disrespectful slut!” He picks me up and slaps me hard across the face with the back of his hand. He brings that same hand back, and open hand hits me across the other side of my face. This causes my lip to split and for me to bite my tongue.“You like being treated like whore? Is that what you want? Will that teach you a lesson to know where your place is? That you are nothing, and you will take what you are given! Bend over slut!”
