Begin Again

Prologue

*TW: Physical Abuse, Rape, Emotional Abuse*

"She shakin' it for daddy, she's shakin' it for me."

***

"Salomé, I'm home!"

Richard didn't get a reply. That was my first mistake. He called her name again but still had no response. He continued to call for her, the tone in his voice altering from a worrying one to an impatient one. However, he could hear a faint noise from a distance. As he continued along the corridor, the sound began to crescendo and was clearer. It wasn't mere noise, it was music.

'So she is home.' he thought, relief rushing through his body. The music was coming from the kitchen, so he slowly opened the door in hope of not disturbing her from her bliss. As he quietly entered, the sight of his wife dancing along to his favourite song.

"She's lifting up her ass, then she drop it to the beat. She shakin' it so fast, for the cash. Ching-a-ling."

He strode through the kitchen with a grin on his face looking at his petite wife's hips move to the rhythm. Slowly he wrapped his arms around her waist and planted a peck upon the side of her neck, inhaling her scent. He always did that. Salomé, feeling the rough stubble rub, harshly, on her face flinched as she knew he had returned from work.

"Hey baby..." she said hesitantly. Who knew what mood he was in today?

"Mmm, that smells so good, honey." He continued to give light kisses upon her neck. Salomé could feel his bulge grow against her leg and began to manoeuvre out of his loose grip.

"The food?" she gave a light chuckle and turned around to face him, placing both palms on his chest. He smirked at her and shook his head, slowly.

"You."

Of course. He leaned forward and started to hastily undo her jeans, whilst giving her long kisses. Salomé didn't need this mess right now so she tried to hold his wrists with her own so she could pull him off her, but his fingers had a strong hold on her.

"Richard..." she began, as she continued her task of removing her husband off of her, "...Richard, stop it please."

"Don't. Call. Me. That." He mumbled in between kisses. Salomé, unaware of his comment still protested.

"Richard...Richard, for fucks' sake stop it!"

He paused. Silence filled the air. Finally- Before she could feel any relief, a harsh slap ran across her right cheek. Like a reflex, she cupped her cheek and stared at the man who she made vows with. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, whilst his clenched fists remained at his side. His pigment had turned red and his nostrils were flaring. Bull. Bully. Her eyesight began to blur as the tears, carrying years of tolerance, fell.

"YOU FUCKING BITCH." Spit came flying out as he articulated each sound in a rage. "WHAT IS MY FUCKING NAME?"

She knew his name, of course. Everybody knew his name. Dr Richard King, pastor at the local church. But the right response was lodged in her throat. She knew every second she hadn't answered him was only fuelling his anger.

"I-I-I'm sorry...please-" she blurted out, trying to control her sobbing. He grabbed her wrist, dragging her up the stairs, paying no attention to his weeping wife, and pushed her onto her knees on their wine carpet.

"Wrong answer." Unfastening his belt and undoing his zip, he pulled down his trousers and underwear, revealing his sagging length. Not again.

"Wait...Daddy, please." She tried to reason with him. "I said it! I'm sorry, Daddy."

Grabbing her hair, he pulled her head back to get a better look at her face. Her dry tears stuck to her face and the snot was still drooling. Her mouth was open in a plead. He would never listen to her in this state. He looked down at his wife in disgust, disappointed that she was disobedient to him again.

"Suck me." He stated, pushing her face close to his bulge. She twisted her head, trying to find space to breathe but all she could smell was his foul cologne.

".....no!" That was another mistake. He pulled her hair back again and punched her in the face. A strong throbbing was felt on her cheek. His blood was racing through his veins. The adrenaline made him continue. One. Two. Three. She couldn't even cry, he would just punish her anymore. He hated to see his wife cry. He hated it so much. All she could do was gasp for air her husband was taking from her with every hit. Each progressive hit increased in force until he suddenly stopped, and the only sound in the room was his panting. It's over. Releasing the hand that was still gripping her hair, he held his piece.

"Open your mouth." He said soothingly. After he punished her, he would suddenly have a calm demeanour. Salomé, with her eyes clenched tightly shut, widened the gap of her lips tentatively.

She knew what he wanted. With eyes closed, he flung his head back in bliss, pleasure rushing through his system. His wife needed to please his husband.

***

I needed to please my husband.

Applying my heavily coated makeup, for the umpteenth time, she stood back to see the powerful effects of make up. After washing her face and applying foundation and concealer, the bruises were no longer visible. Her husband's brutality was no longer visible. The love for her was no longer visible. The purple eyeshadow applied above her eyes blended in with the purple skin embedded into her. The blusher replaced the redness of his love. Tough love. She finished off her look with colourless lipgloss, taking care to not add to much so as to not look like a tart. The pastor's wife. What could be done with her eyes? Her pupils were dilated, life no longer filled them. She considered ending her life a few times. It was possible. The pharmaceuticals in the cupboard above her was her one way trip to freedom.

A knock interuppted her train of thought.

Busying herself, by fidgeting with her hair, she deliberately focused her attention on the loose strand of her extensions. She felt two arms snake around her waist.

"Hey baby..."

She looked back at the man she loved.

"You look beautiful." Her gave her a light peck on her cheek.

"Don't take too long, honey. The Robinsons are waiting for us or their dinner will get cold." He chuckled. She smiled back, and turned around placing both palms on his chest.

"That would be disastrous." She replied. Same old, same old. His smile faded as he admired his wife. Leaning closer, he closed his eyes, and rested his forehead upon hers.

"God, you're so beautiful." He whispered.

How could he hurt his beautiful wife?

***

At the dining table, all I could see were two white people talking about their boring lives, whilst my husband laughed along. All I could do was chuckle. I never listened at these sort of gatherings. My mind would always wonder to what it would be like to not be the pastor's wife.

"Would you like more salad, Salome?"

I've known them for almost five years now and they still couldn't pronounce my fucking name.

"No thank you, Lisa. I'm so full! Thank you so much for this delicious food." I beamed. Jesus, these people were either stupid or they just loved the attention. Feeling a hand on my thigh, I looked to see Richard grinning at me.

"You must be full, darling! I saw the way you tore at that chicken. Be careful now, the only time I want to see you waddling around is when my baby is in that tummy, not food!"

They all laughed with this monster. What could I do but laugh along with them?

His jokes left a bruise when they weren't appreciated.

***

Hi! So this is my first time writing a story that explores the escape from an abusive relationship and I'm a bit new at this so apologies for any errors in advance!

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