Can't Escape 3

Three

"Now stop crying. Everything will be fine till morning."

His words echoed in the silence of the room, a hollow promise deepening her sense of entrapment. She tried to stop crying, swallowing the sobs that threatened to escape, but the reality of her situation weighed heavily on her.

As he drifted off to sleep beside her, she lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the walls close in. The overwhelming sense of being trapped served as a constant reminder that there was no easy way out. Her mind raced with thoughts of how she had ended up here, in this house, in this life where each day was a struggle to survive his unpredictable moods.

The darkness of the room seemed to press in on her, mirroring the darkness that had overtaken her life. She felt like she was suffocating, the weight of her fears and her husband's unpredictable anger making it hard to breathe.

She turned on her side, curling up as if to protect herself from the harsh reality surrounding her. She slightly moved her head, looking right at the man she was married to.

His features were soft, a few moles dotting his skin. He seemed peaceful when asleep, so different from the chaotic presence he embodied when awake. Her hand stretched out slightly, brushing his cheek as carefully as she could. Amidst the chaos their relationship had brought, she loved him dearly and somehow wished for the same in return.

She withdrew her hand, turning away, the illusion of peace he presented in sleep dissolving into the harsh truth of their waking life. As she stared into the darkness, her thoughts returned to the events of the previous day.

It had begun with a minor infraction, something so insignificant she couldn't even recall it. But his reaction was swift and brutal. He had grabbed her wrist, twisting it until she cried out in pain, a sadistic glint in his eyes.

"Why can't you just follow the rules?" he had snarled, his grip tightening. "Do you enjoy making me angry?"

His anger had escalated quickly, each accusation sharpening his cruelty. He had shoved her into the wall, the force knocking the breath out of her. She had pleaded, her voice trembling, but it only seemed to enrage him further. He had slapped her, the sting of the blow burning her cheek, his eyes alight with a rage she couldn't comprehend.

She had stumbled, falling to the floor, and he had towered over her, his face contorted with anger. "You're worthless," he spat, kicking her side with enough force to make her gasp. "You can't do anything right."

The hours that followed were a blur of pain and fear. He had dragged her into the bedroom, his rage a storm that left her battered and broken. She had tried to shield herself, to make herself small, but his violence was relentless. Each blow, each harsh word, had chipped away at her, leaving her hollow and defeated.

As she lay beside him now, her body still aching from his abuse, she felt the weight of those memories pressing down on her. The room was a prison, each wall a reminder of her confinement. She couldn't escape his reach, his anger, his control. The darkness around her was suffocating, mirroring the despair that had seeped into every part of her life.

She turned her gaze back to him, studying the features she had once adored. In sleep, he seemed almost kind, a cruel illusion that made her heart ache with longing for a love that had never truly existed. She wished she could believe in the gentleness he showed when he was unconscious, and wished that it could somehow translate into his waking moments.

But deep down, she knew better. The man she loved was a facade, a mask that hid the darkness within. His tenderness was a fleeting mirage, overshadowed by the reality of his cruelty. She couldn't escape the truth, couldn't ignore the pattern of his abuse, no matter how much she wished for a different reality.

She closed her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks, a silent acknowledgment of her pain. In the quiet of the night, she allowed herself a moment of vulnerability, a brief surrender to the emotions she kept locked away. She had to keep going, had to endure, but in these stolen moments, she let herself grieve for the love she had lost and the life she might never have.

_-_-_

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the room. She woke to the sound of his movements, the rustle of clothing as he prepared for work. Her hand throbbed with a dull ache, a reminder of the previous night's pain.

He approached the bed, fully dressed in his work attire, and sat beside her. His eyes were cold, devoid of the warmth she once thought they held.

"Sit up," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for defiance.

She pushed herself up, wincing at the pain in her hand, and met his gaze. He handed her a small, worn notebook. It was the book of rules he had created for her, each page detailing his expectations and the consequences of breaking them.

"Read the rules," he instructed, his voice flat.

Her hands trembled slightly as she opened the notebook to the first page. Her eyes skimmed over the familiar words, each one a reminder of her entrapment.

"Rule one," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "Always have dinner ready by 7 PM."

"Continue," he said, watching her intently.

"Rule two: No phone calls without permission."

"Keep going," he prompted, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Rule three: Do not leave the house without informing me."

She paused, her throat tightening. The words felt like chains, binding her to a life of submission and fear. He leaned in closer, his gaze unwavering.

"And rule four," he said, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper, "Never question my decisions."

She swallowed hard, the weight of the rules pressing down on her. She couldn't escape the reality of her situation. The man who once promised her the world now confined her to a life dictated by his whims.

"Good," he said, standing up. "Remember these rules today. I'll be back late tonight."

She nodded, the notebook clutched in her hands. As he turned to leave, she couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. The day stretched out before her, another test of endurance in a life she could hardly recognize.

Just before he stepped out the door, he turned back and looked at her. "And make sure the house is spotless. I don't want to find a single thing out of place."

With that, he was gone, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the ever-present rules that governed her existence. She stared at the notebook in her lap, the lines of text blurring as tears filled her eyes.

She stood up unaware of which work to start with, everything in this house was a mess Including her own self.

To be continued
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