4. Ophelia

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When I decided to print off the pictures for Holden, I didn't actually think that I would hand deliver them to him. I couldn't stop myself. I just walked into his room. And when I did walk in, he was crying. His hands in his face, body shaking, sobbing. I didn't even knock.

My phone in my back pocket starts to vibrate. I pull it out and stare at the screen. It's Ryan. My controlling, crazy boyfriend.

Ryan is a police officer for the Davenport Police Department. He's tall and handsome. But also, the devil incarnate. My dad is the one who set him and I up two years ago. He thought we would be a great match and it would set me straight in my ways. From police chief Dennis Carter's perspective, I'm a problem child.

I answer the phone and put on my best happy voice, "hey baby."

"Where are you, Phe?" He sounds angry and I immediately tense up.

I continue walking down the hall of the hospital towards the elevators, "my plane leaves in an hour. I'll be heading home soon."

"No," he says, "where are you right now?"

I push the elevator button, "the hospital, Ry."

"Why?"

I push my red hair out of my face and sigh, "I had to check on something, babe."

I know he is starting to get mad because he doesn't answer right away. I step foot on the elevator and push the button for the first floor. As I descend, I wait for Ryan to answer. He just breathes angry breaths into the phone.

"Who were you seeing, Ophelia?" he angrily says to me.

The elevator dings and I get off and walk to the main entrance. The hot heat hits me once I walk out those doors. I can't wait to get to my rental with ice cold AC. I stop walking.

"Ryan," I say sweetly, "I just brought some pictures to a rider who got injured tonight. That's it."

"You couldn't email the pictures, Ophelia? You had to go and see another guy behind my back?" he huffs, "I'm your boyfriend."

I start to sweat. Not because of the hot Texan summer air but because of Ryans words. I'm terrified and I know that I'm going to get it when I get home. Not only a tongue lashing but most likely a beating as well. He's never hit me in the face for fear he'll leave a bruise there. Always on my back or stomach or legs. Never anywhere visible.

"I'm sorry, Ry," I try to be as calm as possible, "I don't have his email. So, I wouldn't be able to send them."

"Liar," he says and hangs up.

A tear streams down my pale cheek. I wipe it away and shove my iPhone into my purse. Snagging my keys, I run to my car. I should've never come to see Holden.

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I walk out of the Quad Cities International Airport with my suitcase rolling next to me. Ryan is sitting in his black Ford Mustang. His phone illuminates his face as he sits in the dark. His fingers going a mile a minute on the screen. He hasn't noticed me yet. I take a deep breath and open the back door.

I shove my suitcase on the seat. He looks back with an angry look on his face. He's pissed. Obviously from our conversation earlier in the day. I shut the back door and take another deep breath. He reaches across the seat and opens my door for me. I slide in.

"Hi," he says, grabbing the steering wheel, "how was your trip?"

There was no kindness behind his words. He doesn't want to know how my job trip went. He wants to know if I was disloyal or dishonest with him. I'm afraid for what will happen when we get home. I already know that he's pissed. It's written all over his face.

Ryan takes off out of the airport parking lot. He's picking up speed and I grab the handle on the door. I'm pressed into the back of my seat and my heart starts racing. Once we're on I280, he speeds up. We're going nearly a hundred miles an hour.

"Baby, please slow down," I say gently.

"Why?" he yells, "Why should I, Phe?"

I tense up, "please baby."

"Ophelia," he screams, "you fuckin' cheating bitch."

His fist hits me in the chest. I'm left breathless as we speed down the interstate. I'm coughing so hard that my lungs burn. Ryan keeps screaming at me. Calling me every name in the book. I have to stop him. I have to calm him down or we will wreck this car.

We're coming up to the Milan bridge going a hundred and five miles an hour. I put my hand on his knee. I turn as best as I can to face him but still have my seatbelt on. My lungs are still on fire. My chest will bruise from his punch.

"I would never cheat on you, baby," I say smoothly, "you are the only one for me. I love you, Ryry. Only you baby."

He starts to slow down.

"Can you make me feel good when we get home baby?" I ask.

His blue eyes swing to me with hunger. Ryan looks me up and down and licks his lips. I bite my lip because I know that drives him crazy. He wants me. And I know it will be the second we walk into the door. We probably won't even make it to bed.

He takes the Rockingham exit. He doesn't stop at the stop sign; he just turns right and heads for our house. He turns right onto South Stark Street and goes all the way down to the last house on the right.

Our little one-bedroom house is adorned with white siding and red shudders. The grass kept neat. There is no driveway. So, we park on the street. He gets out and runs around to my side. My bag forgotten about in the back seat. He lifts me up off the ground and cradles me in his arms.

Ryan walks us to the front door. He quickly unlocks it and swings it open. He slams the door shut behind us, me still cradled in his arms. I kiss him feverishly. I'm hoping that this stops any argument. He kisses me back, setting me down long enough to rip my tank top over my head. I'm picked up again and slammed into the wall by the door.

I gasp, the air leaving my lungs. He loves it rough. My lips are bruised with his angry kisses. Ryan cups my breast. I wrap my arms around his neck, pushing my fingers through his hair. Our tongues clash together.

We move to the couch. I straddle Ryan. He pulls his t-shirt over his head, and I press my chest against his. Our mouths find each other again. He unclasps my bra and removes it. My nipples tighten in the cold air. He sucks one of my breasts into his mouth. I let out a fake moan to let him know that I enjoy it. Even though I can't stand having his mouth on me.

His mouth makes a pop sound when he releases my nipple. He snakes his hand around my throat and squeezes. My eyes go wide as his hand gets tighter and tighter. Tears spring into my eyes.

"You ever lie to me again," he sneers, "I'll end your life and I'll make it look like an accident."

He stands in a rush and throws me down to the couch. Ryan rips my shorts and thong down my legs. He unzips his jeans and pulls them down so his erection sticks out in front of him. My stomach turns and I feel like I'm about to throw up. He's going to take me, even if I don't want to.

Ryan leans over me and spreads my legs. I grab his shoulders. He puts his hand on my core and frowns. I close my eyes as he rubs my dry pussy.

"Get wet for me, bitch," he screams in my face.

I kiss his angry mouth, "I'm sorry baby. I'll spit for you."

I spit in my hand and rub my core. He takes the wet invitation and probes me with his cock. I'm filled with him, and he starts pounding into me. I wrap my legs around his waist so he can go deeper. He likes it like that. Tears sting my eyes as Ryan fucks me.

I'm numb by the time Ryan finishes inside of me. He pushes off me and stands over me. He swipes a tear off my cheek and glares at me. I meet his stare. His icy blue eyes terrify me.

"Go shower," he says, walking into our small bedroom, "you smell like a cheating whore."

I sit up on the couch and watch him flop into our bed. My heart aches as I walk into the bathroom and shut the door. I turn the shower on and sink to the floor. Tears flow down my face. I can't stand the person I am anymore.

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