*Nicole's POV*
It's 10:30am and nothing from Matt. I'm finding myself disconnected with him as husband and wife. My concern is more for my children's father. If something happened how could I take the pain from my kids.
The door opens and he causally walks in. casual as if he just got off work instead of staying out all fucking night.
"Before you start, I drank to much and stayed at Daniels house, a guy from work Nicole. Don't even begin with the whining or nagging, get over it. ".
The disbelief in his comment, tone, time, and unbelievable another lie must have shown immediately.
"Get over it? You fucking prick, I was worried I had to tell our kids some bad news! I'm finished caring about this marriage, my concern was for you as the father of my kids and that's all!" I slam my coffee mug down and walk into our room.
Of course he follows me. I'm turned around so fast and pulled to his alcohol infused body as he wraps his arms around me and begins kissing my neck.
"Get off me now Matthew!" I yell.
"Mmmm I love when you're feisty Nicole!" He says.
"You can't be serious. You think I'm going to fuck you after your night out? Fuck off me Matty!" I say without thinking. Oh fuck!
His body goes stiff and not in the good way.
"What did you call me?" He says in a growl.
Oh well here we go I opened a can of worms!
"Oh you fucking heard me correctly. Oh is that name reserved only for Jessicaaaa ?" Emphasis on her name!
Ever see those action movies where the actors spin around after being hit so hard. Yeah well I am not an actor nor was I acting. My body did a 180, I crashed over the stool and onto the floor. He was over me in a hot second. "You nosey fuxking bitch, "slap"You useless piece of shit, "punch" I told you stop getting in my business, "punch, punch crack!"
Pain, and I'm gasping for air. What happened. Why can't I breathe why is there so much pain in my chest. It took me a few minutes before I realized he punched my ribs. Oh he's doing body shots now so nothing shows. I can't breathe right so I'm still gasping for air. He begins laughing at me as I'm laying on the floor rolling side to side. I can feel the wetness on my face but I'm not crying. Where is the wetness coming from. Oh the gash in my forehead and my nose. Great I'm bleeding as I see the red. How do I cover this up I say to myself.
"Get up, clean this mess and yourself. Look what you did now. Blood all over and you broke the stool!"
Is he serious. I did this? I caused this? I think I'm literally in shock. I must be asleep dreaming of a lifetime movie.
I hear the shower turn on. About 15 minutes later he comes out the bathroom.
I'm sitting on the floor now still trying to figure how my life became a lifetime movie horror.
"I guess we should discuss the arrangement, you should be included now that you know about Jessica. I will fuck her when I want. You can still have your little white picked fence house and lifestyle." He then gives me a sinister grin and says "maybe if you behave, you can join in with Jessica and I. Mmm I would really like that.
He bends down in front of me swiping my hair from my face and says "You want to babe, join in that is? I'm sure you would love to feel her tongue on your pussyyyy while I let you suck my cock? Yess I think I will set it up, and you're going to be a good wife and do as I say, we wouldn't want a custody battle would we? Imagine my firm against hmmm your public defender. I'm going over to Jessica's now because the idea has me hard as fuck and the freak she is knows how to fuck me right. This is so much better, no more secrets to keep from you."
The urge to vomit is high but the pain in my ribs reminds me to not move.
As he is leaving out the bedroom door he turns and says "Get cleaned up. I'll be back in a few hours and I better not hear some damn excuse from you." He leaves. He leaves me bloody and on the floor in pain. I'm so glad my mom has taken the kids this week.
I finally get up and clean myself in the shower. I've decided this times excuse is I fell down the stairs. Looking at the cut on my forehead and swelling around my face not to mention the pain in my ribs, it seems absolutely believable. I find enough strength to drive to a quick care giving my vivid accounts to the nurse and doctors of how I tripped on the kids toys and stumbled down a few stairs. I've become quite the lifetime movie actress within the months. A few stitches later and a prescription for pain I'm leaving. I get in my car and look at myself in the review mirror. "Who am I?" I ask only myself. I married the high school quarterback. The aspiring attorney. I didn't marry some gang banger or ex con. I didn't marry a drug dealer or drug abuser. I mean sure that's what it appeared I would do with the circles I associated with as a teenager. I changed my path though. I looked to stability and away from what society deemed wrong. Yet I'm in the parking lot of a quick care with stitches and a fractured rib. The doing of my husband, not some stranger or thug. Screw the definition of thug, it's incorrect. My husband the aspiring attorney at a prestigious law firm, is a thug!!!
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Counting The Lies. Book 1 in The Betrayed Saga
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