The Love Trials: Ashley

Chapter Ten

WARNING. VIOLENCE AND SEXUAL TOPICS THROUGHOUT. MAY BE TRIGGERING

"Brad? I'm home." I dropped my keys onto the dish in the hallway then checked each room. I checked his office the second I got to the third floor. I knocked then entered. And froze.

The office had been... Torn up. Where before it had been neat and organised, it was now a mess. Filing cabinets had been thrown around the room, papers scattered all over the room. Bradley's desk had been pushed over and everything that had been on the top had been either thrown against walls, leaving dents or smashed up. Bradley himself was sat on the floor of the office, sitting against the desk. In his hand was a bottle of whisky. It was already a quarter empty.

"Bradley?" I whispered, stepping closer to him. He was drunk, that was clear. His eyes were red. He looked up at me and got to his feet, staggering slightly.

"God you're fucking beautiful." He stumbled over to me and grabbed my waist with both of his hands. He kissed me but it was rough and nasty, tasting of liquor. He pushed me up against a wall and I felt a twist of fear in the pit of my stomach. I broke the kiss by moving my face to the left.

"Bradley, you're drunk. I don't want to do this right now. You're clearly upset." Bradley hesitated, looking at me. He looked a mixture of angry, annoyed, confused and something else I couldn't place...

"Where the fuck have you been anyways? You were supposed to finish work at two. Be here by three. You're two hours late."

"I stopped off at the police station. I needed to know if Cathy was okay." Bradley snorted, backing off a few paces.

"Think I really believe that fucking cock and bull story? Where the FUCK have you been?" My fear turned into more than a twist. My whole stomach had flipped.

"The police station. Honestly Bradley I have. Look..." I pulled out the business card. He snatched it off my hand and scanned it then threw it on the floor.

"So you're getting other men's numbers are you? You're a fucking whore do you hear me?" I stared at him in shock.

"Bradley, what the hell? What's wrong with you?" Fear... But in his eyes was pure fury. Murder. That was the emotion I had missed. He stepped forward and I instinctually took a step back, stepping back into the hallway. But he followed me.

"Are you fucking questioning me? What right have you got, you slut? What the fuck are you? Nothing. That's what you are."

"Bradley!" I gasped.

"Shut the fuck up!" He shouted. I knew it was coming. Deep down, I guess I knew. I just didn't want to believe he would. But I didn't see the slap in time until it had already happened. Brought down onto my left cheek. A slap that lifted me off of my feet and made me collapse. But oh it didn't stop there. Does it ever stop there?

I tried to protect my face with my arms, cradling my head, curling up into a foetal position. This just seemed to make him angrier and he grabbed one of my arms with his hand, squeezing so tight that I was sure the blood circulation was being cut off. I cried out in pain but he wasn't satisfied. His fist went down twice. The second punch hit even worse than the first, a fiery pain because he missed my cheek and hit my jawbone instead. His first blow had gone to my left eye. His second went to my left side of my jaw.

"Don't ever fucking question me again." He said, letting go of my arm. The blood rushed through my arm, pricking me as I let it fall to my stomach. He spat at me and then I heard him leave. The front door slammed behind him so hard that the glass of the window above me shook. The marks he had left felt like a burning sensation, a sensation of utter pain. I felt the tears come and wondered why I didn't just get up and leave there and then. Before he came back. I knew why... I couldn't. In that moment, I physically couldn't get up. The pain was just too much.