Sin For Me

Prologue ☑️

Blood coursed through my veins, as my heart pounded heavily against my chest. My stomach churned, as the contents of the meal I had earlier in the evening began to climb upon the rings of my throat like a ladder. The sound of kitchen cabinets slamming open and shut and dishes being shattered about shook me from my hideout in my bedroom closet. My body jolted as the noise of shattered glass resonated throughout my eardrums. I tensed in nervous anticipation.

I wrapped my slender arms around my trembling legs and cradled them close to my chest, attempting to soothe my sporadic breathing and drown out the distressing sound from the next room. As long as I remained hidden from him, this charade could refrain from becoming the harsh reality it truly was.

I was safe hidden away, for now. In my imaginary bubble.

"Megan!" he screeched, stressing each syllable of my name in his unceasing rant.

"Where is my shit?! I'm in no mood for these games with you tonight! I know you hid it again! Don't make me search for you. It's not a game you want to play tonight. We both know you don't like when I'm angry!" he howled from a distance. When wasn't he angry? I thought to myself. The drunken fool must believe me to have hidden his alcohol! How dare I deliberately grate the devil in his own lair!

And just like that, the imaginary bubble I'd burrowed myself in burst. And I was exposed, vulnerable, and afraid.

This night had proven like any other, nothing out of the ordinary. He'd fancied himself to a "business" dinner with his so called colleagues, of whom I'd never in our entire relationship gotten the pleasure to meet. He'd return home within the later hours of the night, drunken and in a fit of rage. And determined on feasting that rage on me.

What had I done to deserve this life? Love him unconditionally, despite his obvious flaws? If this what love was, I wanted no part in it anymore.

I couldn't endure another night with him, in this house. His presence was stifling and unwanted. My heart nor my body could handle his continuous abuse. I was exhausted of it—mentally and physically drained beyond means.

I was over being his rag-doll that he could toss around every time he got drunk, and beaten within his drunken stupor. And the audacity of him to apologize the day thereafter, only to continue making the same mistakes was ludicrous.

I was done with his manipulative apologies, his deceit, and his obvious infidelity. He wasn't the same man I met years ago on the night of my college graduation. He was a monster—a worthless excuse of a man. And I faulted myself for falling for his schemes.

My mother had always had a hunch he was a bad apple. She warned me weeks before her passing that one day, I was liable to end up in dead, six feet underground, and long forgotten if I remained in this union with Max. I'd disregarded her notions, and refused her heady warnings.

I hadn't dared to share the gruesome details of my shortcomings of my marriage with anyone—not my mother, not even my best friend, Eve. My mom and I had grown apart throughout the years, as had Eve and I. Max had me right where he wanted me, cornered like the prey I had become. I was his, and his only. I was isolated from everyone in my life that meant anything to me, besides him.

Marriage was portrayed as a scared, happy time in a young couple's life, I had always believed. Or at least that's what any woman head over heals in love with a man would believe, right?

But that was in a fairytale world, an alternate universe parallel to the nightmarish one I inhabited. I was no princess and the man I married was everything short of a prince.

But I couldn't muster the strength to leave him. Things weren't that simple. He was a dangerous man, one with connections. He'd have me dead, disappeared, nonexistent if I even as so much attempted to flee.

"You're mine, forever. Til death do us part, baby," he smirked. "Don't as much as entertain the idea of leaving me. The only way you'll ever leave me is in a wooden casket, or...I could think of a few other creative ways..." his threatened.

My mother, Eve, nor anyone else for that matter, knew the type of man my husband truly was and what he was capable of. No one really ever knows what goes on behind closed doors, behind pretty smiles, and false appearances, now do they?

I was almost certain that people talked in this town. I know they could see the bruises that I attempted to mask when Max and I were in public together. But yet, no one ever said a word. Max had that type of reign over people. He was unquestionable. He was known well for what he was, and what he could do, and people knew to steer clear of him. I'd not known a soul to dare to cross his path in the years I'd known him.

I knew it distressed my mother to helplessly watch her only daughter succumb to such a tormented life. For that reason, I had to let her go. Her pain was at most unbearable, aside from the pain I endured being the one entrapped in this life.

But tonight was the final straw in this marriage. Enough was enough.

I had to take the risk of leaving or count the days until my funeral. It was now or never, and I had to get out. Fast. But how? How would I escape this hell unscathed?  I worried.

In the earlier hours of the day, I had planned on a hasty departure. I had every detail carefully plotted, down to the timing of his arrival, and my exit. My plan was flawless, or so it seemed. I had hoped to be long gone before he returned from his typical Tuesday night poker game with his colleagues. He was always quite punctual on those particular nights, and I knew when to expect his return.

But time wasn't on my side this time, as nothing seemed to be these days. I hadn't had enough time to finish pack my belongings. I hadn't planned on taking much, as most of my material possessions had been purchased by none other than the bastard himself. And I wanted no reminder of his presence in my life once I had rid myself of him. I decided upon the bare necessities and a few sentimental items of my mother's that I'd held on to after her passing.

How does he know that I am home? I wondered. I had attempted to cover my tracks in the event that an incident like this were to occur. I had parked my car parked in a secluded lot down the street, and managed to place a few of my belongings in it throughout the course of the day. Hadn't he questioned the whereabouts of my car?

Then it dawned on me —of course, he knows I'm here. He knows every move I make. Its in his profession to know all.

The troublesome thoughts within my brain were soon brushed abruptly aside when hard, heavy footsteps approached the closet where I had found sanctuary. My heart stopped beating in my chest, and the air within my lungs evaporated as I temporarily stopped breathing. The closet door slowly creaked open, a tall shadow filling the gap between me and my escape. A silent whimper barely escaped my lips, as my eyes gradually found the those of my oppressor. I was exposed, vulnerable, and petrified.

His eyes pierced through mine, like fire melting into ice. I was frozen in place. His drunken gaze unlike any previous times he'd come home wasted. An eerie feeling swept beneath my bones, sending shivers down my spine.

He broke the silence before I could muster an explanation for my hiding. His lips parted slightly, and he spat with the serenest smirk, "There you are, sweetheart. I've missed you so much. Hide and seek is over, and now, its time to talk." The stammer in his voice was apparent. He was plastered beyond means.

The glossiness in his eyes was a manifestation of tonight's foreseeable events. Not again! I silently pleaded. I couldn't live through another brawl; the pain in my rib cage was continually present. This time would surely break me.

The smell of whiskey radiated off him intensely, flaring my nostrils. My stomach twisted in knots as the seconds ticked away, anticipation building within my rungs.

I parted my mouth to settle, but no words managed to escape my breathless body. I was trapped within my own body, a dear in the stake of headlights.

A split second elapsed, and the bubble I was eluded upon immediately burst. He abruptly grasped my arm, jerking me from the floor with every ounce of force in his muscular body. The pain was immediately too much to bear. Surely my arm was already dislocated, and the night had only just begun. Fuck! I sulked. What had I gotten myself into now?