::::TW: Domestic violence and implied R*pe, Ahead!!! 18+ only beyond this point!:::::
How did things get this bad? I can't even stand to be in the same room with her anymore! The only place I feel any kind of peace is in my bedroom.
Every time she opens that disrespectful little mouth of hers, I'm ready to slap it off of her, each time it seems to take me longer and longer to calm down.
"I. Can't. Understand It!" I growled, under my breath, as I paced back and forth.
"Everything I do is for her! Why is she so ungrateful!? Why does she insist on pushing my buttons and making me act this way! It's as if- As if she WANTS me to lose my temper!" I grabbed a small decorative statue sitting on a table by the bed, and in my rage, threw it as hard as I could.
It hit the vanity mirror across from me, cracking it as it bounced into the floor. I walked over to check the damage.
"What have I done to deserve this from her!?" I sighed, exasperated.
I began to feel a sudden, sharp, chill creep up my arm.
"She's going to throw a heart attack on me, I swear to God..." I sighed, rubbing away the sensation.
"She will...if you don't get her under control..." whispered a voice, so soft and quiet that I almost didn't believe it was there, until it spoke again.
"She needs your discipline, August, darling...She's forgotten her place and her duties to you as your wife..."
The voice was unmistakably feminine, beautiful and alluring, more so than anything I'd ever heard before in my life.
I could see something begin to take shape in the cracked mirror, a faint porcelain face framed in long, silky black hair.
"August..." she beckoned, motioning for me to come toward her.
"You're not at fault here, my love..." her voice drifted from her lips like velvety clouds of smoke, I was hypnotized by her beauty.
"Who are you?..." I asked, unable to look away. She smiled at me, coyly, and raised her finger to her lips.
"It's a secret..." she whispered.
"All you need to know is that I'm on your side. You're the dominant one here, August. You're the man, remind her of that. Train your wife to be worthy of you."
"Worthy of me..." I repeated, absentmindedly.
She nodded, slowly.
Within a heart beat, as quickly as she came, she began to fade away.
"Wait!" I said, snapping out of the fog. I reached out and placed my palms on the glass, hoping to somehow stop her.
Her eyes stayed locked with mine as she disappeared, her full lips draped delicately over her perfect teeth into a sensual smile.
I stood silent for a while, gazing aimlessly into the mirror, hoping to see the enchanting beauty again, sadly though, she didn't return to me.
Sybil must really be getting to me. She's literally driving me crazy, to the point to where my imagination is beginning to create more beautiful women to comfort me, like she should be.
I chuckled at the absurdity of it all and sat at the edge of the bed.
My imaginary mistress might be on to something though, maybe Sybil is starting to forget her place.
Maybe she needs reminded of what's expected of her.
It's my duty as her husband to set her straight. I've been too lenient, she's spoiled, and selfish. I'm going to start sorting this out right now.
I stood up from the bed and made my way down the stairs. I could hear her in the kitchen, still, cleaning up her mess.
"Sybil!" I called to her as I walked toward the kitchen, feeling hopeful about our situation.
She was on her knees, picking up what remained of the shattered mugs. She looked up at me, her brows furrowed in a resentful expression.
The very sight flew all over me.
YOU ARE READING
Crimson Lace: A Crimson Peak love story (Thomas Sharpe)
Paranormal*COMPLETED* Sybil McMichael was happy to accompany her husband, August, to the place his grandmother, Edith Sharpe, wrote about in her most famous Novel. Once there, she finds that her husbands intentions were fueled by more than mere childhood curi...
