NEBULA

Chapter 1

He stumbles into the bedroom, reeking of alcohol and looking tired but he is far from drunk. Thinking about it, I don't think I have ever seen him drunk in the two years we have been married. But he drink 4 bottles of rum and coke during his working hours, a tequila in the morning and 5 bottles of  whisky in the two hour drive it takes to get from his office to our mansion.

"Huxley, I asked you a question", he says while dropping his watch onto the dresser with a loud thud.

Looking at him, I stand up and go into the bathroom, ignoring his attempt to make conversation.

"Someone had a bad day", he mutters while taking off his dress shirt and dropping it over the cushion that accompanies the dresser. 

Dropping onto my knees in the bathroom floor, I fight for composure, pray for direction and try to work the tension out of my shoulders by rolling them over and over. I don't know how long I stay in the bathroom but Dex's voice ringing through the door breaks me from my trance.

I must look pitiful, I think to myself. Sitting on the bathroom floor with nothing but a drained soul. I stand up, pull my hair into a messy bun and open the door, interrupting my husband who probably now thinks I died in the bathroom.

I move past him and straight to the bed where I lie down, covering my ears with a pillow. Thirteen seconds, I think. Thirteen seconds before my solitude ends.

And he doesn't fail me by even a second.

Because exactly thirteen seconds after I lay down, he is at the bed, ripping the pillow from my hands and pulling me up roughly.

"Now, you listen", he seethes, "I don't work for twelve hours straight, deal with annoying people, and cope with traffic just to come home to you and have you behave like a spoilt, moody twelve year old. So snap out of whatever the hell it is that is causing you lose all your senses, get dressed and meet me outside."

His fierce grip loosens on my hand and I rub it in an attempt to dull the pain.
However, I don't leave my spot on the bed. Call me crazy or daring but at this moment, I want him to do his worst.

I pray he kills me.

He walks to the bathroom door before slowly turning back to the bed where I still sit. He cocks his brow and tilts his head to the side, daring me to remain seated.

Ignoring the pounding of my heart and the screaming voice inside my head, I defy him, staying seated.

He walks slowly to the bed, each step a warning to me but I force myself to stay seated no matter how much I want to stand up and comply to his instruction but I'm done playing wife.

I'm now playing me.

Believe me when I say I expect what happens next.

In fact, I relish it the moment his hand connects with my face. The force of the slap whips my head to the side and I feel my neck crack.

"I believe I said stand up, get dressed and in the car", he says, crouching down to my eye level.

He then touches the spot that still stings and rubs it in slow circular motion.

"Get your hands off me", I demand, malice lacing every syllable.

He smiles and shakes his head, leaning down into my face then saying into my ear

"Get dressed and in the car, and don't ever defy me. You know I hate it when you do. I payed a lot for you and you know I like to get a run for my money. Your defiance is cute but I hate it."

Looking into my eyes with a smirk on his face, he mocks me with the words that I will forever regret uttering to him

"I love you", he says then doubles over in laughter, holding his mid section as his laughter rings in my ears, the sound that once sounded like heaven to my ears now rips me apart. I look away from him and bite my lips, trying to  maintain my poise.

I look at the man in front of me, my husband, my nightmare, the demon I keep fighting and the one thing sucking all the life out of me.

With glassy eyes, I look at the window which overlooks night sky Chicago and in that moment, I give in to the tears that I have become all too familiar with these last two years and as sobs rack through my very being, I see my life flash before my eyes.

I see myself in the window and what I see scares me.

The disoriented nature of the mirror depicts me as fragments scattered over the place and just behind me is the silhouette of my husband, dark and intimidating. I, however, am cast in two directions due to the position of the light. I'm bright on a little part of my left side but as my body shakes with sobs, I slowly and unconsciously move all of me into the dark side, making both of us leave the light completely. Dex stands up and moves away from the bed but the moment he does so, he enters the light.

But I remain in the darkness.

If this isn't a sign, I don't know what it is, I tell myself why returning from dinner that evening with my hand secured in that off the very person draining me.

Welcome to my life.

AN

U guys!!! So I've been wanting to start this story for a long time now, but I just got inspired. So tell me what do u think????

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