Husband Beater

Chapter Three

When did Jack get so aggressive and mean? What gave him the idea to hit me? How was I so effected by this? Why was I so effected by this?

I felt like one of those papers your reading teacher passes out that says what, where, how, and why?

Except, I wasn't able to answer these questions; my mind wrapped around them, and I thought hard about them. The answers didn't cross my mind once.

A few times, I even began to cry. I missed how Jack and I use to be.

We always use to hug and cuddle a lot. When we sat on the couch, we'd always end up cuddled together and making out as the movie or TV show played on.

Now we just sit in silence.

When we cooked, we sang and danced and hugged and even made out on the table a few times.

Now I do the cooking, with occasional helps from Jack.

The sex use to be soft, passionate, sweet, and full of energy. Hands grasping, mouths kissing and biting, minds and bodies wanting and craving more. It was hot and sweaty. Bodies clang together, hips moved in perfect motion, and visible hickeys were left. Moans were passed between us and scratches along the back. A few times Jack bent me over the table or bed and we made passionate and lustful sex that way. He grabbed my hair and chest and pulled me into him while whispering hot, yet lovely things in my ear while biting it.

Now the sex is just pretty much rape. No love, and Jack was the only one enjoying himself.

I heard the front door open and I put the last dish in the dish washer.

God, I prayed once again, I know I don't believe you, but please help me.

"Babe?" Jack called out.

"Kitchen!"

Jack came around the corner and smiled. I returned it and set the rag in the sink.

"How was your night?" I asked.

Jack sighed and let out a dry chuckle as he pulled an ice tea from the fridge.

"Lost my patient in surgery." He said. I could tell he was upset.

His patients name was Maxwell. He had kidney failure and went through multiple transplants. I've met him multiple times; he was a rather tall man with brown hair and piercing green eyes. He was very handsome and caring towards others. Maxwell had a drinking problem when he was a younger adult and it caused his kidneys to fail. This was suppose to be his last transplant, but he didn't last nearly as long as we all expected.

Life has a funny way of working; you think you're cool, and then the worst news of your life occurs. You start feeling confident, but life just fucks you over.

"I'm sorry." I said.

Jack took a few gulps of his tea and I turned back to the sink. There were no dishes, but I enjoyed to look out the window and into the yard.

We have a few bunnies that we're living in our yard, and a raccoon Jack secretly set out food for. I've also spotted a deer. Our backyard is like Snow White's: covered with flowers and animals. We had a woods a few feet off our property line that Jack and I use to explore a lot.

Arms around my waist snapped me out of my daze. Jack's face was pushed between my neck and shoulder base as he pulled me into his chest.

Jack nuzzled me a few times before applying soft kisses to my neck. I let him bite and nip at my neck, and on my jaw line, while I leaned into him and tilted my neck to grant him better access.

Jack's hands slid up and down my hips as he worked around my neck and left small bite marks and hickeys.

After a while, he began to grind on me and that's when I pulled away a little.

Jack noticed and pulled me back into his chest harshly.

Once again, I pulled away and walked across the room. Jack followed on my heels, and pushed me against the wall. As I set out my hands so I wouldn't hit the wall as hard, Jack shoved his hands up my shirt and onto my hips.

He made no hesitation to pull my clothes off, which was really uncomfortable. I didn't want this.

Jack started to grind a bit and I was able to push him off.

"Alex. Come here."

"No!" I said for the first time in forever.

Jack gripped my arm and pulled me back into his controlling, abusive grasp.

When I pushed away, he punched me in the face, twice.

"Just stop!" I cried as I slapped him back.

I scratched is hands and neck until he let go. When he hit me again, I kicked him and ran towards the bathroom.

Jack tried tripping me, and was successful. Kicking and punching him off of me (and talking a few blows along the way) I ran into the bathroom and locked the door.

"Get the fuck out here, you bitch!"

"Fuck you, asshole." I yelled. "What the fuck happened to the old Jack?" I screamed. "I miss my old husband! The one that didn't beat the shit out of me and rape me all the time! I'm done!"

"Al-"

"I fucking hate you!" I cried as I slid down the door.

Jack sat there for a few minutes, and walked away.

And I sat there and cried. I cried and cried and cried. I cleaned up my blood, and the blood under my fingernails and on my knuckles from fighting back, and washed my face.

I cried until no more tears were left, and then cried more. I laid down in the bathtub, and cried myself to sleep. I went to sleep with fear infesting my thoughts and dreams.