Save Me

Chapter 1 Husband

Autumn's POV

*sigh*

It'll be ok.

Don't worry.

He'll come home happy.

'Hello dear!'

He'll be smiling

Yeah!

'Hi! How was your day?'

'Fine. I'm so hungry! Mmmm. What are you making? It smells good'

I always said the same thing in my head before he came home.

I glanced up at the clock.

6:52

My heart sped up as my nerves grew inside of me.

I quickly rushed over to the cupboard and grabbed two glasses, making sure they were perfectly clean before crossing the kitchen and walking into the dining room.

I glanced at the door, making sure he didn't walk in and see me in my slippers and apron. I let out a shaky breath as I walked back into the kitchen. Then I looked around making sure I didn't forget anything.

I closed my eyes, leaning against the counter for support, my shaking legs struggling to keep me up.

Then I heard the familiar squeak of the front door open and close lightly. I smiled at the sound, since it wasn't a slam.

He's happy!

I quickly slipped my apron off and changed my shoes, into black flats. Then I brushed off my black pants and beep blue blouse, adjusted my perl earrings, necklace and bracelet before walking into the dining room again.

My smile quickly faded as I laid my eyes on my husband, fork squeezed tightly in his hand as he twirled it around and a stone cold look etched in his face that told me he was not happy.

I stood longer than I should have, examining him, since his head slowing turned in my direction and sent me deadly glares.

I gasped with fear, before shooting my eyes in the direction of the roaster, sitting in the middle of the table. I pulled the lid off and set it down, stepping back so he could reach and take the chicken.

"Wine" he said, bitterly.

I sighed silently, hating myself for forgetting.

I nodded, spun around and dashed into the kitchen, throwing myself against the counter again and breathing heavily, trying to compose myself.

I hate to say fear coursed through my vein, only because that would imply that I'm afraid of him. No, I'm not afraid of my husband, only afraid of what he's capable of.

I walked over to the wine rack and grabbed the last bottle of wine.

Then I crossed the kitchen, fighting myself to go faster, and walked into the dining room once again.

I placed the bottle down, then crossed over to my chair and sat down, waiting for him to be finished dishing his plate before I started mine.

"How was your day?" I asked, lifelessly, as I pushed my salad around my plate.

He didn't answer, telling me he didn't want to talk.

I sat in silence for half of the meal, until the tension in the room died down and I decided to try again.

"Will you be working tomorrow?" I asked, a bit shakily.

He glared up at me, the first time he laid eyes on me since he started eating.