You're Supposed to Look Forward to Your Wedding

Roger

Roger stormed into the office later that day, making both Marjorie and Siobhan jump. He greeted Marjorie with an eye roll before turning his attention to Siobhan.
"Where were you this morning?" He asked, leaning on the desk so he was leaning over Siobhan. She shuddered slightly before replying.
"I was here. I came in early to get some paperwork done."
"A likely story." Roger spat.
"She was here, I was with her." Marjorie piped up.
Roger turned his attention to her, saying in a growl.
"Did I ask you?"
Marjorie shook her head. "N-no."
"Then don't speak for my fiancé." He hissed, looking back at Siobhan. "We were supposed to be doing last minute wedding shopping today, and because you didn't bother to tell me where you were, you've made us late!"
Siobhan sighed, giving in as she got up from her chair.
"Where are we going then?"
"Home first, and then to the tailors."
****
Siobhan got out of her car, fumbling with the keys as she locked it. Her hands were trembling so she shoved them in her pocket to hide it from Roger. She looked up at the house. It wasn't her home. Home was somewhere you felt safe. Somewhere you felt welcome. This was a place where she simply existed. Barely. Twisting her engagement ring around her finger, she sighed, heading over to Roger as he got out of his car and grabbed her arm in an iron grip. Siobhan made a noise of protest.
"That will bruise... It'll be seen at the wedding,"
"Then you'd better hide it." Roger snarled. "Along with this" he dragged her inside the house, shoving her up against the wall. "Good wives are silent. They don't protest. They obey their husbands."
Siobhan tried to turn away from him, fear writing itself across her face, tears streaking through her makeup and exposing Roger's previous attempts to break her. Roger grabbed her face, turning her to look at him.
"I want to see you...mummy."
That nickname.
Siobhan had never liked nicknames.
That one especially made her stomach churn. Every time it passed Roger's lips she knew what was coming.
Fists or sex.
Often both.
On this occasion, the fists came first. The sex might have come later, if they hadn't been interrupted. Siobhan's body was littered with new bruises, Roger screaming at her that she had been a bad housewife and this was her punishment for leaving the house without catering for him this morning.
'Get your own fucking food' she wanted to say, but that would just make things worse.
The last shove came as the doorbell rang. She fell against the door to the basement and she screamed as she felt it swing open. It was old, with rusty hinges. Evidently all it took to break them was Siobhan's slight figure.
Roger had walked away to answer the door.
He didn't see where she fell.
He didn't see the door fall as she fell against it.
He didn't see her struggle to grab the bannister as she started to fall down the stairs to the basement.
He didn't hear the thud as Siobhan hit the floor of the basement.
He left the house with the man who came to the door.
A business partner.
Business over pleasure.