Retribution

Chapter 1 - The Ghost of Evil Past

Hope does funny things to people.

That innocent combination of four letters toppled me from joyful sunshine into jet black oblivion. I knew better. Of course I did.

An entire decade of being pushed and pulled between rays of light and soul consuming darkness had taught me that the bright white light at the end of the tunnel is quickly masked over by the presence of demons.

Yet, the sight of the ruffled red dress hugging my stick-thin figure was something I revelled in. The sleek fabric gliding against my skin made me feel like the treasured princess I often dreamed of being—even if just for a second. Turning from side to side, my reflection beamed back at me, giving me a boost of self-confidence.

"What do you think?" I asked Adam, my partner of ten years, and father to my eight-year-old son.

His dark eyes glazed over with a familiar hardness. He clenched his jaw. Bone scraped against bone. A muscle twitched in his cheek.

In that split second, my joy of the past few weeks being bliss between us popped like an overfull balloon. My moment of ecstasy faded away with the dying sunset, leaving me alone in the eerie land between light and dark.

"I don't like it," he said. His clipped tone constricted around my heart like a snake. "The colour doesn't suit you at all. Unless you want people to think you're some sort of hooker."

He lunged towards me.

I whimpered, biting down on my dry, chapped lips. A piece of cracked skin tore free from my bottom lip, making me flinch. Blood swelled to the surface, trickling across my tongue with a metal tinge.

He tweaked his mouth up in amusement. This was all he needed for my new-found confidence to slip back through my hands like grains of sand.

"Things have been so good between us lately, Louisa. Don't ruin it now."

"I'm sorry," I said, licking at my wound. "I'll change it."

He gave a curt nod and stepped back towards the doorway. "Trousers and a top will do just fine. A decent top."

I stared at the floor and nodded.

He walked away, leaving me shouting at myself in my head for the millionth time. How could I have been so stupid? The past few weeks had lulled me into a false sense of security, leaving me thinking that maybe, just maybe, I could start to grasp onto parts of me again. Parts of me that were once so bold, wild, and untamed.

But this evening had stamped all over those dreams like a butcher braising meat.

Biting back tears, I peeled the dress from my body. Involuntary trembles took control of me. The sinking disappointment in my gut turned into a ball of churning nerves when the floorboards creaked with his return. I hurried to bury the only colour in my life in the depths of my wardrobe. Never would it see daylight again.

He stepped inside the room, his arms crossed over his chest. Glaring at me with scorn oozing from his entire body, he said, "Where did you get that dress from?"

The anger rolled off him in waves, hitting me with such force I broke out into a cold sweat. The radiating stare he burned through me ensured I didn't dare challenge his eye contact.

I focused on a flower in the carpet pattern and replied, "Mum bought it for my birthday."

"Your birthday was over six months ago. I've not seen it before." He paused—the effective tactic he knew would stop my racing heart dead. "I'll ask you again—where did it come from?"