Unlovable

Chapter Two: Run

Harold had five more diluted beers that night while they watched the evening news and the end of the Monday night football game. Darcie rubbed his feet and drew his bath, as she did every night.

There was a time long ago when he asked her to do these things for him, but now it was expected. If she failed to comply to his demands, there were always punishments. It could begin with a slap against the face, a belt to her thighs, or just plain mean spirited words.

She didn't know which was worse, the mental or the physical pain.

After she thought herself finished with her nightly routine, she settled back in bed, reading her favorite book, The Great Gatsby. She had seen the movie a million times, but to Darcie nothing compared to the book itself. How one man could love so deeply had always touched her heart. Many nights she lie awake, wondering if there was a man out there who could love her that much, a man she would've met had she not married Harold.

She knew those thoughts were worthless. Harold would never have let her go, not from that first minute in the diner. Once he decided he wanted something- He got it.

Harold stumbled in from the bathroom, completely naked, and in search of a pair of underwear to put on for bed. She folded the page down in her book and bit her lip.

She was supposed to bring in his things for him before she could lay down herself. How could she be so stupid and thoughtless?

A pair of boxers were supposed to be set on the lid of the toilet, a comb on the top of it. She had remembered to set up his tooth brush, she hung his uniform and hand washed any soiled spots on the shirt. She had forgotten the boxers.

And now she was afraid.

She was surprised that instead of saying anything, or doing anything, he just went to the dresser and searched for himself.

Darcie watched him closely.

She was petrified, but it seemed in those days she was always afraid for one reason or another. Nothing she did ever seemed to be enough. She couldn't remember the last time he'd sincerely smiled at her, or thanked her for a job well done.

What would she say wrong? Do? These were the questions she had to ask herself daily.

He turned on her quickly, holding up a pair of boxers that they had bought the day before when he made her go to the new department store downtown with him. She could even see the plastic wrap in which they had come from still nestled in the drawer. She remembered very clearly that she didn't even want to go with him to shop, but when Harold said jump, you asked how high.

"What is this? Whose are these?" he demanded as he stumbled closer to the bed.

He was holding up the boxers as if they were contaminated. Her heart jumped into her throat and Darcie knew what was coming next.

He had found his reason to hurt her.

"Th-They're..." she stuttered.

He was only inches from her now. She could smell the beer on his breath, mixed with the remnants of toothpaste and whiskey. She could see the driblets of water from his shower dripping from his hair onto his cheeks, next to his eyes that were shining crazily with unwarranted accusation.

Darcie stared blankly, trying to calm herself enough to think of a way to get out of this- To get out of what was clearly coming.

Quicker then she had time to react, he jumped on the bed and shoved the boxers into her nose, as if she were a dog who had an accident on the carpet.

"Th- Th-," he mocked as he grabbed the back of her head and forced her into the hand that held the boxers. "Spit it out, Darcie!"

She pulled her head away, touching her fingers to her face to make sure there was no blood coming from her nose this time.