Into the Storm (29 page)

Brian entered to inform me my trainer was here. I could see he wasn’t pleased that I’d not been down to breakfast. He held out my pill and I took it from him wordlessly, turned around and reached over to pick up the water from my bedside table to wash it down with. He watched as I swallowed then instructed me to meet him in the gym downstairs and left.

Once I was sure he was gone, I spat the pill out. I had stuffed it into my cheek while I was turned away getting the water, a trick I had gotten very good at. I tucked it into the drawer meaning to flush it away later, the same way I did with the others I had managed not to take. My head was definitely clearer when I didn’t take the pills. I smiled grimly. I now had three objectives for the library. One was to use the computers I would have access to in order to try and figure out what the pills were. Second was to try and find a way to contact Joshua. I didn’t belong here. That became clearer to me every day I was here. The other objective was to bring home more of Joshua’s books. I needed his words. They were all I had left.

My head ached and I was so tired. The evening was filled with yet more of Brian’s strange behavior, but for some reason he had been incredibly tense all evening. More so than usual. His hold on my hand had been too tight. His arm around my waist had been uncomfortable and all night he had been terse when speaking to me. At one point, when I was looking around the room, I saw a woman smiling in my direction. Unsure who she was, I looked over at Brian, but he was occupied with his iPhone. Not wanting him to be angry that I couldn’t address her easily if she came over, I hesitantly reached over and laid my hand on his arm and leaned closer to get his attention. He reared back as if I had spit on him. Unnerved by his reaction, I pulled back and my elbow hit my water, only to knock it over. His hand closed over my wrist roughly, pulling my hand back from trying to right the glass as I apologized. “Leave it,” he hissed. “Stop making matters worse, Elizabeth. You’re always making matters worse!”

I sat back, stung, not understanding what I had done except to spill a little water. The glass had been almost empty. I struggled not to show my emotions. Wasn’t that what he wanted? For us to seem close when we were in public? Could I do
anything
right in his eyes? Intense longing rushed through me suddenly for the warmth of Joshua’s gaze, for his quiet, adoring attention. Suddenly, I felt the tight grip of Brian’s hand on my leg. “Remember your place, Elizabeth. Act properly,” he spoke lowly into my ear. I felt a shiver go through me at the menacing tone. When I looked up, his face was an icy mask of politeness as he spoke to the woman next to him. I straightened in my chair but I remained quieter than normal the rest of the evening, not wanting to provoke his seemingly growing ire.

Back at the house, I climbed the stairs quietly and headed to my room. I heard Brian walk to his den and the door slam behind him, echoing loudly in the main level. I shuddered as yet another feeling of déjà vu crept up my spine.

I undressed quickly, putting everything back in its proper place. I changed into a pair of pajama pants, and needing it as close to my body as I could get it, I went to the bed and reached in between the mattress and pulled out Joshua’s t-shirt. I pulled it on; desperately wishing it was Joshua’s arms that were draped around me, not just his shirt. A torn piece of paper fluttered to the floor and I bent down and picked it up. It looked like a torn photograph. I frowned, wondering why there was a picture stuffed between the mattresses. Curious, I reached in between the mattresses and was surprised when my fingers felt something soft. I pulled the item and held it up. Mystified, I stared at a brilliant blue piece of torn cloth. Why was this hidden? I laid it on the bed for a better look. That was when I realized how badly torn it was. It appeared to be a sleeve from a blouse. I leaned forward examining what appeared to be stains all over it. Confused, I took the material into the closet where the light was far brighter than the small lamp on the bedside table. Kneeling down, I spread the piece out on the floor and looked at it. Then I recoiled in horror. The stains were blood.

Time seemed to stop as images started bombarding my brain. I fell forward, my head in my hands, as I tried to process the memories that were, suddenly, vividly alive again in my mind.

It was my blood.

This torn piece of material had been my blouse.

And, it was torn off me by Brian in one of his rages.

As he beat me.

Again.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Rabbit

I lay huddled on the floor. The automatic lights in the closet had long since turned off. My head was buried deep in Joshua’s hoodie, muffling my sobs.

I remembered that day.

Everything.

Brian’s fury as he hit me over and over again.

His hands painfully digging into my arms as he shook me, screaming in my face about yet another one of my failures as his wife. How I always ruined things, not made them better.

The impassive, blank look as his foot drove into me repeatedly as I wept helplessly on the floor, the blood from my nose dripping down my face mixing in with my tears.

I shuddered thinking about his face.

Cold.

Angry.

Devoid of any human compassion.

Because I’d worn a colored blouse. Something bright and pretty for a change.

He had almost killed me because I’d worn something not approved by him.

I sat up, still gripping Joshua’s hoodie, another wave of terror rolling over me. He had been angry and tense that day, more so than usual. Much like tonight. And, tonight I had failed to be perfect yet again.

My stomach lurched. What would happen now? Would he come up here? Would he hurt me again?

I wrapped Joshua’s hoodie around me like a talisman, praying it would protect me. I pushed myself into the corner of the closet and sat rocking, waiting for my answer.

“
Get out of those clothes, Rabbit,” Joshua’s voice hissed in my head. “Get into bed and pretend to be asleep,” the voice continued. “Do it,
now
.”

I scrambled up on shaky legs and pulled off Joshua’s shirt. I stuffed that and his hoodie into the dresser and dragged a nightgown over my head. I made my way to the bed and crawled under the covers, burying my head into the pillow, still weeping, my mind overloaded with images and thoughts.

I heard heavy footsteps on the stairs and I forced myself to be still. I curled into a ball and made sure my face was buried. My heart was thumping so loudly that I pushed my hand over it to muffle the noise. I heard my door open and I felt my body turn into ice with fear. Brian approached the bed and stood beside it. It took every ounce of my strength not to move under his gaze. I could feel the animosity pouring off him in waves.

He spoke in the darkness, his voice low and furious.

“
You always ruin everything, Elizabeth. You’re always in the way.”

And, then he turned and walked out.

Eventually, I crept back into the closet and wrapped Joshua’s hoodie back around me. I went back to bed, in case Brian checked on me for some reason, and I lay there shivering in fright as images and memories came crashing back in a chaotic deluge.

I recalled the painful memory of suddenly losing my parents in a car accident. Feeling lost and adrift and needing a change.

The impulsive decision of accepting a job in Toronto, Ontario at one the libraries and moving, thinking a big city and new challenges would help me start to live again. But the move only increased the loneliness I felt instead of giving me a fresh start as I had hoped.

Meeting Brian at the first benefit I attended. Being struck by his confident, almost domineering personality and surprised when he called me a few days later, requesting to see me again.

I shuddered, remembering how I welcomed his sudden appearance in my life. How I unconsciously allowed him to take over my decision-making process, feeling somehow cared for again. His taking control began quietly enough; not liking my outfit and choosing something more ‘appropriate’ for me, chiding me for being too frivolous in conversations, separating me from what he deemed ‘unsuitable friends’, insisting my hair be worn a certain way to please him. I attended more and more events with him and he made sure our picture was taken often and seen through many press outlets. Slowly but surely, I was moulded into what he believed was a proper companion for him, and I’d blindly permitted it to happen.

Six months later, we were married in a simple ceremony and that was when the reality of my poor decision-making became apparent.

Always rather domineering and rigid, Brian became a tyrant. I learned very quickly that his word was law. I was the mistress of a large house with no say in how it was run whatsoever. All my personal effects were deemed unworthy of my new status; with the exception of a few of my books. I had a couple of boxes in the closet, the rest were discarded or given away.

I wasn’t allowed to change a thing in the house. My ideas of warming it up and making it seem more welcoming were met with unyielding disapproval. My wardrobe was changed entirely to reflect the way someone ‘of my status’ should represent the James name. I wasn’t permitted to work. Brian allowed me to volunteer at the library, but only two days a week. The rest of my time was allotted to the various organizations he felt were worthy of my time and other activities he approved of. With only the people he approved of me being associated with.

I lost myself. I was a symbol. I was Brian James’ wife. Taken out and shown off when needed, but otherwise ignored. I was pushed into the limelight as a benefactress of sorts of many charities and reminded of my place by Brian often. I learned rapidly not to let him know the quiet enjoyment I had working with the various groups. My happiness was not a priority with Brian.

Very quickly, I learned the two sides to Brian James. There was the confident, commanding, yet charming, social persona and the cold, angry, dismissive private man. In public, we seemed a perfect couple. I attended every function with him, dressed as he deemed appropriate. We were always close, his arm around my waist, always quietly conversing. No one knew it was usually snide remarks about others being hissed into my ear or remarks about something I was doing to displease him. I learned to keep my eyes downcast and my face blank. His need for validation was obvious in his insistence of documenting all our involvement with the various organizations. I fast became weary of the attention, but he thrived on it. His seemingly doting attention, however, immediately halted when we were away from the cameras and people. In private, I was left alone most of the time.

Our sex life, even from the start, was almost non-existent. While we were dating, I found it romantic that he was holding himself back, that he cared for me enough to wait. After we were married, the few fumbling attempts were disastrous, ending with him cursing and angry and me weeping, unsure of what I was doing wrong. I had very little experience and the blame was laid entirely at my feet. Brian had no problem informing me I was cold and unresponsive and, once again a total disappointment to him. I tried to please him in other ways but to no avail. A week after we returned from our short honeymoon, he informed me the room across the hall was now mine. He would be staying in the master suite. The only time he would enter my room was to inform me of an engagement or to inflict one of his many punishments for an error on my part. Of which there were many.