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Yesterday, Jake’s personal physician examined me at home. I could tell the doctor was frightened, which was why I hadn’t blamed him for telling Jake the truth: I was perfectly healthy.
After the kind doctor left, Jake raged and called me names, then locked me in the guest room. I should’ve known he’d return to destroy my spirit and what little self-respect I had left.
My gaze swept around my monochromatic office. I used to love the clean lines, white furnishings, and glass walls. I could see my surroundings inside the museum as I could outside it. Everything was so open and airy. It never occurred to me to be concerned about my privacy. At work, I had nothing to hide. Anyone could see me at my desk, including Jake, via his phone.
Apparently, since the day I met him, he’d kept tabs on me. He’d stalked me.
A shiver worked down my spine as I took the retractable utility knife out of my desk drawer and placed it on my lap. I kept my expression neutral to not reveal how I was dying inside… and that I wanted to die after what happened this morning…
The warmth of the early-morning sun kissed my face. I dialed into the whoosh of waves crashing on the beach and seagulls announcing it was a new day. They had freedom, so of course, they were celebrating, while I dreaded facing my future.
I peered out the sliding glass door at the expansive ocean from the bed and longed for my hometown. Yearned for wide open spaces and the community that had been more like my extended family. I ached to be with my folks and siblings who would’ve loved and protected me above all else.
And of course, Cade.
I slid out of bed and put my ear against the door. Jake had taken my phone, so I couldn’t check the time. Regardless, itwas Monday, and he’d told me I could go to work. I was sure he didn’t want people questioning where I was and drawing attention to him.
After sifting through the three outfits I had, because Jake so graciously allowed me into our room to select some items, I went into the bathroom and locked the door.
Launching into my normal morning routine, I turned the shower on and brushed my teeth. The person staring back at me in the mirror looked pitiful, with bags under her eyes and sallow skin. In one week, I’d changed into a spineless, defeated woman.
The room was finally steamy and for a moment; it soothed my soul as I moved under the ceiling mounted rain shower head. I relished the hot water searing my skin and soaking through my scalp. Just being in Jake’s house made me feel dirty. I wanted to scrub my body with a steel wool pad until I was raw.
But my tranquility was interrupted by pounding on the door.
“Why’d you lock the door?” Jake yelled. “You think I can’t break through if I want?”
I lathered my hair and rinsed it, speeding up my shower so I could get out and not be vulnerable. As if not being vulnerable was even possible. Jake had me right where he wanted; under his thumb and at his mercy.
“Just wait, Shelby. You’ll be sorry for this.” His threats wrapped around my throat and choked me.
How would he punish me? God, if he did anything to my family or Cade, it would shatter me.
“Sorry, I just did it out of habit,” I lied.
“Bullshit! Hurry the fuck up. It’s almost eight.”
Almost eight? I started at nine.
I didn’t bother putting conditioner in my hair and turned off the water. Luckily, I didn’t have to shave my legs or armpits because I’d just had them waxed last week. I squeezed the excess water out of my long hair, then wrapped a towel around me.
“Open the door,” he said through gritted teeth. I could tell his face was against the door, and holy terror shot through me.
“Just a minute.” I threw off the towel and slipped into my panties and put on a bra. My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to get dressed before Jake lost control and burst through the door.
“You’re pissing me off, Shelby.”
“Sorry. Almost finished.”
“You’re just going to take it all off once you come out.”
I froze. Did he mean what I thought he meant? He wanted to have sex, and the very idea nearly made me puke. “But I’m going to be late for work.”
“Should’ve thought of that before you slept in.”
He blames me for everything.
“I don’t want to argue. Can’t we try to get along?”
