Defenseless

Chapter 3

Charley heard the shrill electronic ’ding’ of the elevator in the hallway. She stood at the sink full of warm soapy water and gripped the handle of the knife she was washing. Taking a steadying breath she released the knife into the water and heard the nearly imperceptible thud when it floated to the bottom. Charley closed her eyes and took another deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. Her heartbeat was erratic and after she dried her hands off with the soft, beige kitchen towel she wiped at the perspiration forming at her hairline. Hanging the towel back on its appropriate hook, she hurried to get a tumbler of ice. If she was going to do this... she was going to need a drink. And so was Chris. The entire apartment had an open concept with a minimalistic, ultra-modern decor. Exposed steel beams ran across the ceiling and the walls were a smooth grey concrete with high-shine metal reinforcement studs. The kitchen, dining area and living space were all one large room, divided only by the two large steps that ran the whole length of the massive room, into the living space. There were two broad Eames lounge chairs made with a buttery soft leather, the color of heavy cream with contrasting legs, made of black walnut and a considerable couch that seated at least 7, to match. Floor to ceiling windows, Charley's favorite part, would cloak the whole room in warm sunlight on nice days. On one wall in the living room hung a massive flat screen television. Directly underneath were floating shelves sparsely placed with high-gloss vases with varied pastel colors. The furniture was arranged in a social semicircle facing the television. Up the steps into the kitchen where Charley was quickly preparing Chris a drink, the cabinetry was all high-gloss white and frosted glass doors. Stainless steel appliances and a 5 range gas stove highlighted the parameters of the room. The counters and the center island were topped with the most immaculate white quartz that sparkled and glittered with silver/grey veining. There were 4 ghost chairs that ran the length of the opposite side of the island tying the kitchen to the dining area. A massive glass and black walnut dining table dominated the whole dining space accompanied by 6 Parsons-style chairs circumferencing it. The door to enter the spacious apartment was off the kitchen and dining area down a short hall decorated only with 5 small key hooks. Charley could hear his keys clanking and jangling against the metal deadbolt in the door. His drink was made and she was in the process of making one for herself with shaky and clammy hands. She never knew which version of Chris she was going to get when he came home. Things had been tense since they moved in with one another. Their relationship was fast moving and they had only been living together for a few months. By any standards, they should still be in their 'honeymoon' phase. Nervous energy radiated through her sweetly dressed, 5'5 frame as she mentally prepared herself for the confrontation she knew was ahead. Her ashy blonde hair had been expertly styled and it hung in loose curls over her shoulders and down her back. In an attempt to make herself more acceptable to Chris' ever-growing demand for perfection, Charley dyed all the pastel pink, purple and teal out of the ends of hair. Chris took her shopping and bought her, what he deemed to be, appropriate clothing. Charley resisted for a while but eventually, the snide remarks and blatant muses of disgust wore her out. She didn’t want to argue. She wanted to impress him. She wanted him to love her again, as he did in the beginning.
‘It’s such a little thing.’ she thought. ’He wants me to wear nice clothes. So what? Why shouldn’t I?’ It started slow, at first. It was little things like calling her 'Lotty' the way her grandmother and sometimes her father would. It made her feel small, like a child. She asked him repeatedly not to use that name which only seemed to make him say it more. She conceded. Charley thought:
'It's a nice nickname. He's only trying to be sweet.' She began a long list of justifications.
'He didn't mean for it come out like that.' or 'Chris is such a sweet man, he would never mean to hurt my feelings. I am overreacting.' She was only echoing Chris' very own statements. How many times had he said those very same things? How many times did Charley think she was going crazy because Chris had told her she was. During all the mental and verbal abuse that Charley was unaware that she was enduring, she managed to degrade herself into something that was less. She made herself believe that she deserved this treatment and that somehow she had disrespected Chris. After all he was higher educated and sophisticated. He had traveled and knew so much more about life and living than she did. Who was she to contradict him? But a few days ago the toxic build up of the tumultuous relationship culminated in one volcanic eruption.