SecretRomance-cloudn36

Years of Abuse Aria I dabbed more concealer over the faint purple bruise across my lips, hoping it would disappear. It had been my daily routine for years. Nothing special. I walked to the window. It was almost midnight. He was late for our dinner. Well, he probably didn't even remember it was our fifth wedding anniversary. A bright light cut through the dark, then stopped at the gate. He was home. I jumped back from the glass when the car door slammed. He was drunk, just like other nights. “Aria.” His loud voice shook the house. “Where the hell are you hiding?” He walked straight into the room. His eyes were bloodshot red. I stood up, my nails biting my knuckles. “Ethan, I was waiting for you. Happy Anniversary.” He stopped close to me. His stillness was the worst part. “Stop that weak act, darling. You make yourself look cheap.” He leaned in. I could smell the strong smell of vodka. “Just tell me where the guy you are hiding is?” I gasped at his accusation. “What are you talking about? What guy?” He grabbed my chin. “You slept with him, didn’t you?” “I… I don’t know what you are saying…” I barely got the words out before the first sharp slap hit my cheek. Pain exploded across my lips, right over the bruised spot I had tried to hide. He laughed bitterly. “The shy wife act is finished, Aria. You are all dressed up, trying to look sexy. You are such an attention-whore, I know. And that's fine. It’s modern.” He grabbed my shoulder, his nails digging in. “But you don't play sneaky with me, Aria.” I could just shake my head. “Ethan… no one was here. I was reading. I—” Before I could utter another word, he slammed me away. My vision exploded with white spots as the side of my head hit the wall. I didn't fall, but my legs failed, and I slid down the wall, tasting blood. Ethan stood over me. He remained utterly calm “Don’t lie to me, sweetheart. You have needs. So do I. So let’s stop this childish theatre.” He suddenly sounded so sweet, sweeter than anything I could bear with. “I am offering you a solution. I will make this official so we can both be honest.” He waited for me to look up. My vision was still blurry, but I forced my eyes open. “I am offering an open marriage.” He tapped the wall above my head. “But you must heed every single rule. Because I set the terms.” An. Open. Marriage. After five years. He sneered. "Since you want to act like a slut, I can't satisfy you, so I'm being generous. Moreover, mature couples explore together. Don’t you want me to be happy? " I didn't answer. Tears started falling, mixing with the blood on my lip. He kicked his foot gently against my knee. “Don’t you, darling?” I managed a weak nod. “Rule one.” He whispered the words like a secret. “You can flirt, date, fuck whoever you want. But don't you dare bring that filth here. This is my house. It stays clean.” He reached out, brushing a stray hair from my forehead. I flinched, but he just smiled. “Rule two,” he continued. “I want names. Full history of your fuckers– medical, social, work. You think I’m going to risk my reputation or my health because you can’t control yourself? No.” He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I need to approve them first.” He stood up abruptly, the sudden movement making me curl tighter into myself. He walked to the door, then stopped, looking back over his shoulder. “Oh, and Aria? The most important part.” His eyes went cold. “You pay for it. Hotels, drinks, whatever cheap thrills you find… that comes out of your pocket. I’m not funding your freedom.” He waited, letting the humiliation sink in. “Do you understand? This is me trying to save us.” I choked on a sob. I wanted to scream but it would be useless. “Y-yes, Ethan.” Once he was satisfied, he stood up. “Good girl. Now wipe your face.” I somehow managed to crawl to the bathroom and locked the door. I pulled myself up by the sink and stared at the mess in the mirror. Maybe, I deserved all these. Maybe, he was right that I was one to blame for the stillbirth, that I killed our baby, and that I was unfit to be a mother. Maybe, everything that had happened was karma. Tears ran down my face as I fumbled in the cabinet for the bottle of painkillers and suddenly, my older brother Jude’s words from five years ago rang in my ears continuously. “Aria, I am warning you. Don't marry this psychopath. He isolates you, then he breaks you down until you believe you deserve it...” I fell onto the cold tile floor, wrapping my hands around my knee. Maybe, Jude was right. But I couldn't escape fate now. I cried until my heart felt numb, until I had no more tears left. When I stopped, I didn't check if Ethan was in the room or even the clock, I grabbed my purse, and walked out of the house. I took a cab and told him to drive me to the nearest club. Where else could I go? I found my small phone in my purse and called Jude. God, I needed to talk to Jude. But these was no signal. I tried a few more times but still, no signal. Minutes later, I got out of the cab and spotted a neon sign that blinked: Midnight Vipers Club. I pushed the heavy door open and was instantly hit by the heavy bass, drunken laughter and the smell of stale beer. I kept my head down, hair falling forward to cover my face, and stumbled toward the bar counter. I slammed my hand down. “Vodka. Double. Neat.” The bartender raised an eyebrow at my face but slid a glass over. I downed it like water. The burn was welcoming; it was the only thing I could feel besides the throbbing in my cheek. My hands were shaking so violently the empty glass clattered against the wood. As I signaled for another, a heavy presence settled on the stool next to me. “Rough night, honey?” I ignored him and continued to focus on my drink. I was too drunk and too broken to fight another man. “Hey. I am talking to you. Look at me.” He grabbed my arm. I tried to pull my hand back, but his grip tightened just enough to be a warning. He leaned in close, invading my space. With his free hand, he reached up and brushed the hair back from my face, exposing the fresh bruise Ethan had left. “Let me guess. Your boyfriend beat you up and you ran away?” He laughed, showing bad teeth. “Come on. You are too pretty to be mashed up like that. You need a real man to show you a good time.” His hand dropped from my face to my knee, his fingers digging into my jeans, inching higher. “Please.” I whispered. “Just… let go.” He leaned closer, “Women like you always say no first. It’s part of the fun.” My stomach twisted. Women like me. Something inside me simply shut down. What the hell could I do? I was already too weak. The only person I could rely on was Jude and he wasn't picking up. I didn't dare to think of calling Ethan. So, I just closed my eyes, letting the darkness take over. His hand slid further up my thigh. And then, suddenly, it stopped. The pressure stopped. I opened my eyes. The man next to me was frozen. A shadow had fallen over us. Someone was standing behind the drunk, towering over him. Then a larger, veiny hand rested on the drunk man's shoulder. It wasn't a friendly squeeze. The leather of the drunk's jacket creaked under the pressure of that grip. “Move.” The voice came from behind. It was low, deep, and controlled. The drunk tried to bluster. “Hey, man, chill out. We were just getting to know each oth—” “I said, move.” The grip on his shoulder tightened visibly. The man gasped as pain shot across his features. He scrambled off the stool so fast he nearly fell over, backing away with his hands raised before disappearing into the crowd. My breathing was shaky. My vision went a little blurry from the alcohol and panic. The stranger took the empty space and finally looked at me. “You shouldn’t be out here alone when you are hurt.” I swallowed hard. He was gorgeous. “I… I didn’t know where to go.” He looked at the bruises on my face, the split lip. But he didn’t ask what happened. “Do you have someone you can call?” “Yes.” I whispered. “My brother. But it says no signal.” “No one else?” “No one else.” I replied. He nodded calmly. “Where is your house? Or maybe his? I will drive you there.” I almost cried out. “I don't know where he lives. And I don't want to go where I live.” “What’s your plan then?” He asked and waited. But as I said nothing, he added. “Do you want to go to my place? You can shower. Sleep. Or even cry. No one will touch you unless you ask.” My stomach flipped at that last part. But I tried to keep my composure even though alcohol was blurring my thoughts. “I shouldn’t. I am married.” I huffed at what I had said. Married. Really? It was a joke. I wanted to laugh, really. “Then tell me no.” He said calmly as he shoved his hand inside his pocket. I didn't say no. I stood up instead, and almost fell since the alcohol had already weakened my knees. But he was faster to grab me by my waist, pulling me against his body. “I will take that as a yes.” I heard him whisper before he placed one hand on my back and lifted me into his arms. Fuck. Literally Naked Aria I said nothing, just stared at him as I locked my hands around his neck. He didn't look at me. But he was so close that I could feel the heat radiating from his from. His ocean-blue eyes were impossible to look away from. I blinked, trying to catch my breath. His dark hair fell lazily across his forehead, a few strands brushing the edges of his eyes. His light scruff sharpened his jaw and framed those full, tempting lips I wanted to bite. He had a slightly crooked nose that was clearly punched at least once. God, he was gorgeous. He carried me all the way to the curb without a word and seated me roughly onto the back of something. A bike. “Stay put.” He said. I blinked down at the matte-black bike. Was I too drunk? It looked like the most expensive bike I had ever seen. He stepped back and reached down to a saddlebag. He pulled out a black helmet. Without a word, he grabbed my chin, tilted my head, and slammed the helmet down over my hair. He got on the bike as he said. “Put your arms around me. Do not let go.” I wrapped my arms around his hard torso just as he instructed. I didn't know where he was taking me. I didn't care. I just wanted a little escape from my pathetic life. He swung his leg over, and the engine roared. Twenty minutes later, the engine died down as he turned into a private driveway and stopped in front of a mansion. Black stone. Iron gates. I peeked and caught the glimpse of the motorcycles that were lined up. He killed the engine and kicked the kickstand down. “Come.” I slid off the bike and removed the helmet, leaving it in the bag. He didn't say anything else as I followed him inside. Warm light glowed against the industrial furniture. Everything smelled faintly of worn leather, expensive whiskey. He led me through a hallway lined with black-and-white photography and exposed steel beams. I had no idea what I was walking into. Finally, he stopped in front of a door at the end of the hall. Without a word, he pushed it open. Inside, the room was spacious, dimly lit. Plush rugs softened the floor, and heavy curtains blocked any outside light. A fire crackled in a modern fireplace. “You can use this room.” He said very calmly. “I don't know how to thank–” “You don't need to.” He cut me off, then pointed around the fancy room. “The bathroom is over there. There are clean clothes, and anything you need.” He waited. As I said nothing, he added, “I will tell someone to bring you some food and first aid.” “I don't need it. I am fine.” He arched a brow slightly. “You are not fine.” “I am.” I lifted my chin, even though my voice betrayed me with a tiny shake. His gaze swept over me in a clinical, controlled, terrifyingly observant way as if he could see every bruise I hid, every crack in me I pretended didn’t exist. “Sit.” He said simply. I hated how my body listened before my mind did. I walked inside and sat onto the edge of the bed. He disappeared. I breathed in. It's like I hadn't breathed freely in a while. My heart wouldn’t slow down. Every part of me screamed that I should leave, but the tired part, the broken part, wanted to sink into this unfamiliar safety and never climb out. The door opened again. A middle-aged woman walked in carrying a tray. It had soup, bread, a bottle of water and a small first-aid kit. “Hello, Miss. I am Rebecca.” “Oh, please don't bother, I’m really fine. I already told him.” I said, softer this time. “I am pretty sure he heard you.” She smiled as she placed the tray on the nightstand. “But I am afraid he doesn’t believe you. He seldom believes anyone.” She knelt in front of me before I could react. As she began to clean my face with wet cotton, I couldn't help but wonder who he was. “Does he live alone here?” The question slipped out before I could stop it. “Yes. He does.” She answered politely while applying the antiseptic cream on my scars. When she was done, she stood up and pointed at the food tray, “Miss, please finish your food.” I nodded. “I will. Thank you.” After she left, I stared at the closed door for a long moment. I half-expected it to open again. When it didn't, the silence settled around me. I was so used to chaos that silence bothered me. Pathetic. The food stayed untouched as I stepped into the bathroom. I stood under the shower and scrubbed until my skin turned raw, until Ethan’s hands felt a little less real. Steam filled the room, blurring the mirror. I didn’t wipe it clear. I didn’t want to see myself. Twenty minutes later, I grabbed the towel and wrapped it tightly around myself, knotting it at my chest. I walked out of the bathroom and tiptoed across the room toward the dresser, hoping to find something comfortable to wear. Just as I was about to open it, I heard the door sliding open. Hell. I was literally naked. I turned around and met the pair of ocean eyes. Great. HIM. I gasped, clutching the edge of the towel. He didn't say a word, just stared at me in a way that made my skin tingle. My heart was beating so loud that I feared he would hear it. He had changed into a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled just below the elbows, revealing strong forearms. Instinct told me to run back into the bathroom or shut the door on his face but I couldn’t move. I was pinned in the spot by his dark gaze. He didn't apologize. He didn't leave. Oh, he didn't even blink. His eyes traveled slowly from swell of my breasts, down to my bare thighs then back up to my face. “You should lock the door.” His voice was a deep groan that vibrated through my core. My nipples were as hard as rock against the towel. And I was sure he noticed it. “I… I thought she locked it.” I stammered, barely able to even my fast heartbeats. “Please, turn around.” He didn't. Instead, he stepped fully into the room and let the door click shut behind him. I almost trembled at the sound. “W-what?” Unbothered, he walked toward the bed, while I backed away until my legs hit the dresser. He stopped a few feet away and tossed a black t-shirt onto the mattress. It was huge. His, obviously. “The dress in the closet isn't your size.” He said as if we were discussing the weather and not standing in a bedroom while I was half-naked. “Wear that. It will be more comfortable for the bruises.” It took me a while to process what he had said. For the bruises, he said. “How did you know I had more bruises?” I asked, blinking. Drop the towel Aria He pushed his hands into the pockets as he tilted his head lazily. “The bruise on your lip is fresh, but the mark beneath your eye is at least three days old. That is not a single incident.” He took a slow step closer, his eyes studying mine. “There is a pattern.” He stated, glancing down at the shirt. “Men who beat women follow a script. They aim for places easily hidden. I knew there would be more.” “You…” I tried to save myself from the embarrassment. “You are wrong.” I managed to lie. He just nodded. “Lock the door.” Then he proceeded to leave. I should have let him go. I should have just kept quiet. But I failed. “Who are you?” He stopped midway. I heard a scoff before he turned around. “You get into a stranger's car, come to his house, shower in his bathroom, and now you ask who he is?” A corner of his mouth ticked up. “Well, I had no choice.” I raised my voice a bit. “I was beaten to near death by husband of five years. Then he offered me an open marriage.” I let out a shaky laugh. Tears were already forming in my eyes. “So I left the damn house. But I couldn't reach my brother. Then an asshole at the bar wanted to fuck me. And you expect me to think straight?” He stood still, watching my tears rolling down my cheeks. The cocky expression he had a while ago had vanished, replaced by that coldness. He walked back toward me, stopping just a foot away. I stood still, clenching my hands. I could feel the towel slipping slightly, but I couldn't bother to adjust it anymore. “An open marriage.” He repeated, almost a whisper, as if tasting the word. “You mean he wanted a free pass to fuck other women while your blood was still drying on his knuckles?” Hearing the truth from him shocked me a bit but I recovered faster. He was right. I couldn’t speak. I just nodded as humiliation washed over me. His jaw tightened, a muscle ticking in his cheek. It was the only crack in his composure. Slowly, he reached out. I flinched at the movement. He paused, his hand hovering until I stilled, and then, with surprising gentleness, he grabbed the edge of the towel that was slipping from my breast. He pulled it up, tucking it securely to cover me. “He is a fool.” He murmured. His touch was so careful, so unlike the violence I had lived with for years. I suddenly felt a rush of hot blood in my body. It was confusing, maddening, but his closeness didn't terrify me. Instead, I felt safe. I had no idea what the hell was happening to me but I couldn't deny that my body was going wild for him. My pussy was already wet. I wanted to be touched. I wanted him to cup my breasts, suck my pussy and insert his dick inside me. “You said no one will touch me.” I managed to utter, evening my heavy, hot breaths. “Right.” He nodded as he grabbed my hand and pressed my wrist against the towel before moving his hand away. “Unless I ask.” I added. He stared into my eyes, long enough to understand what I meant. Then he parted his lips, “Say it.” he demanded quietly. My throat burned. “I want you to touch me.” Something dark and feral flashed across his face. Satisfaction? Relief? Hunger? He didn't wait for me to regret or change my words. He closed the distance in urgency, crashing his mouth onto mine. I tasted rich wine and raw aggression as his tongue shoved past my lips. One of his large hands slid down my spine until it reached my lower back. He squeezed me there, pulling my hips flush against his. Through his jeans, I could feel exactly how hard he was. I let out a soft moan that vibrated against his lips. He broke the kiss just to say breathlessly, “Drop the towel.” I did. I let it drop and it fell across my feet. His eyes traveled down from my face to my neck, then lower. His expression shifted a bit. He saw them. The purple and blue marks were everywhere. On my ribs, my breasts, a big ugly one on my thigh, and faint yellow ones on my stomach. "Fuck." He hissed as dropped to his knees in front of me. I thought he was going to stop, that the bruises were too ugly. But he just reached out and traced the dark mark on my thigh with his thumb. “You are perfect.” I didn't know what made him say that. I was anything but perfection. He didn't stop at the bruise on my thigh. He pushed my legs wide apart with his strong hands. He stared right at my pussy. I was soaking wet, dripping for him. “Your pussy is way too wet for a stranger.” He growled before he leaned in and buried his face between my legs. His tongue moved flatly over my clit. As it went aggressive, I screamed. He was eating me like a starving animal. He sucked on my clit, biting it lightly with his teeth, making my hips jerk off the floor. “Fuck.” I moaned, my hands tanglin in his hair. “Please." He pulled back, his mouth wet with my juices. “Please what?” He demanded. “Tell me what you need.” “Eat me.” I begged. “Lick my pussy.” He had wicked look in his eyes that weirdly turned me on more. His tongue fucked into my hole while his thumbs pressed into my bruised skin. Again and again. He made me come hard. My body was shaking as I squirted against his mouth. Then he stood up and pulled his jeans down. His dick popped up, huge, hard and red. A drop of pre-cum sat at the tip. My eyes widened at the sight. But he didn't let me process. He picked me up and threw me onto the bed. He pinned my wrists above my head with one hand and positioned his cock at my entrance. He rubbed the big head of his dick against my swollen clit, teasing me. “You are so tight.” He hissed. “I’m going to stretch this little pussy open.” He slammed his hips forward and shoved his entire length inside me in one go. “Fuck.” I gasped, feeling him fill me up completely. He was too big, stretching my walls, hitting deep inside my belly. “Feels so good.” He groaned, starting to thrust. He fucked me hard. I was moaning, screaming and crying for more. Slap, slap, slap. He thurst deeper and deeper. His balls hit against my ass while my pussy tightened around his cock, milking him. Letting go of my hands, he grabbed my hips and pounded into me, hitting my sweet spot over and over. His pace got faster. I felt the pressure building again. My pussy tightened around his dick. “Cum on my cock.” He ordered. I fell apart. My orgasm hit me, and I screamed. “Oh my God.” After he moved away from my body, I panted hard. I was too busy trying to calm myself down that I didn't notice when he put his clothes on. When I noticed, he was buttoning his shirt. “You are leaving?” I asked. Dumb question. Did I expect him to spend the night with you? But still, wasn't it too soon to leave? I was naked, panting. The heat of his body and lips were all over my body. But he looked like nothing happened. Fresh, controlled and cold. He didn't reply. Instead, he said, “I wake up sharp at 8.” He paused for a moment to let me process his words before he added, “Before that, I want you gone.” I didn't even get the chance to react. He just walked toward the door, clicked it open and left. Disappeared. Best friend's sister Viper I got out of bed at 8 sharp. I shut the alarm off that was mostly of no use. My head hurt from everything. The alcohol. The lack of sleep. The encounter. Every single thing. I stepped out of my room and walked down the hallway. I passed the guest bedroom door. The door was closed. Probably she was still sleeping. I didn't care. I went downstairs and walked into the kitchen. Rebecca was wiping the counter. “Good morning.” she said, not looking up. “Morning.” I grunted, walking to the coffee machine. I poured the black coffee into a mug and took a sip. It was bitter, just how I liked it. “The girl from last night. Is she still sleeping?” I asked. “She left about an hour ago.” Rebecca replied plainly as she continued what she was doing. The mug stopped halfway to my mouth. “Left?” I repeated. Rebecca chuckled. “Yes. That’s new.” Most women would stay. They would wait for breakfast. They would wait for money. Or they would wait to ask ‘what are we?’ But this girl just ran. “Good.” I muttered. “Less headache for me.” I finished the coffee in one gulp. It burned my throat, but I ignored it. I put the mug in the sink with a loud clatter and walked straight to the guest room door. I stared at the wood grain for a full minute. Just walk away, I thought. She was gone. Problem solved. I pushed the door open anyway. The room was spotless. The bed was made perfectly. It looked like no one had ever been there. But the scent was still there and it hit me instantly. The scent of her body, the sex we had. I stepped inside, staring at the bed. My cock hardened instantly at the thought of her tight, wet pussy squeezing me. “Fuck.” I groaned into the empty room, running a hand over my face. I was hard just thinking about the way she milked me. Something must be wrong with me. I sighed as I walked over to the bed, noticing something on the floor near the nightstand. I bent down and picked it up. It was a small earring. A little silver stud. I clenched the earring in my fist and shoved it into my pocket. I arrived at the club late. The compound was already noisy with all the people whistling, bikes buzzing. “Morning, Prez.” A prospect stuttered, rushing over to take my bike. I shoved the keys into his chest without looking at him. “Don’t scratch it.” I stormed past the bar, ignoring the few club whores roaming on the leather couches. They smiled, shifting their legs to show off what they had. I didn't even blink. They looked like cheap plastic compared to her. I kicked the door to my office open and slammed the door shut. Slowly, the noise of the club faded as I walked over to the wooden desk and collapsed on the chair. I closed my eyes and I saw her. Not in my bed, but here. I imagined her bent over this desk, her ass bare, her face pressed against the wood while I fucked her from behind. My imagination was interrupted when the door opened without a knock. I looked up, ready to kill whoever was stupid enough to walk in. It was Jade. Of course it was. He came in like this was his place, kicking the door shut with his boot. He was smiling, that dirty grin he always had when he broke something expensive or got laid. Sometimes both. “You look like shit,” Jade said as he dropped into the chair in front of my desk. He put his boots up on the wood, ankles crossed. “Bad night, Princess Viper?” “Get your feet off my desk, Jade,” I said, annoyed. He didn’t move. Instead, he pulled out a pack of smokes from his c. “What’s wrong? Didn’t get your morning blowjob?” My jaw clenched so hard it hurt. If he knew. “What do you want?” I snapped. I needed him gone. “I got work.” “Work. Yeah.” He lit a cigarette, smoke going up to the ceiling. “That what we call sitting in the dark and sulking now?” I stared at him. He was my VP, my best friend, the only one I trusted with my life. Still, I wanted to hit him. “Then I’m leaving,” I said, starting to stand. “Sit your ass down. I got news.” He reached into his jeans. “Fixed this piece of crap last night. Took four hours and a solder thing, but it turns on now.” He threw an old phone on my desk. It hit hard, right next to my fist. It had its screen cracked, and body worn out. “Why should I care about your trash?” I asked as I glanced down at it. “Because it’s my old burner.” Jade said, sounding serious now. “The one before I went inside three years ago. Got some contacts on it. Also, family stuff.” The family stuff. He meant his sister. He only had her. But they weren't in contact for at least five years. “You getting soft now?” I said. “Fuck you.” He smiled, but his eyes didn’t. “Anyway, it's updating or some shit. Signal sucks downstairs, so I brought it here.” He stood and checked his watch. “Gotta go to the docks. Make sure the prospects don’t drop shit in the water.” He walked to the door, took his smoke, but left the phone. “Havoc.” I said. That’s his road name. We were forbidden to call each other by our real names in the club. That's the rule. He stopped. “Yeah?” “Take your junk.” He waved his hand. “Leave it. Downloading. I’ll get it later. Just don’t break it.” Then he left, slamming the door shut. I was alone again. Peace. But the peace didn't last. The phone lit up, buzzing on the desk. A message showed on the lock screen. I shouldn’t look. It was Jade’s problem. But the name on the screen made me look. Aria. His sister. 9 Missed Calls: Aria (1 day ago) 8 New Voicemails 78 New Messages. I frowned. The phone just got its signal back. That's why, it was pulling in old shit all at once. I tried to ignore it as I looked back at the earring in my hand. But the phone vibrated again. Then again. “Shut the fuck off.” I muttered. I reached to shut it off, but my thumb slipped on the screen. Old phone. No lock. No code. The screen opened. It was the last message thread. Aria’s. A: I am sorry, Jade. I hurt you deeply. (2 years ago) A: Jade, I lost my baby today. You still wouldn't forgive me? I need to talk to you. (2 years ago) A: Jade. He slapped me today. Can you pick up the call, please? (1 year ago) A: Guess what? You were right. I shouldn't have married him. He just offered me an open marriage. I tried calling you. Now, I am leaving. I don’t know where to go. (Yesterday) A: Jade, I remember you love MC clubs. I am in one right now. It's called Midnight Vipers. Please, come.(Yesterday) I froze at the club name. My club. Last night. I stared at the phone as if it were a bomb. I needed to know. I tapped the voicemail icon and played one of hers from last month. “Jade, he won't let me work. He is hurting me again. Please, call me, huh?” Her voice was broken. But I didn't fail to recognize it. He is hurting me again. The words rang in my ears, overlapping with the voice from last night. “I was beaten to near death by my husband of five years.” The phone slipped from my fingers and clattered onto the desk. “Fuck.” I whispered as I clutched the earring tightly in my other hand. No way. It was her. My best friend’s sister. And I had just fucked her. I want to go home Five hours ago… Aria Stepping out of that damn mysterious house, I decided to walk. I didn’t know how long or how far I would or can go. I just walked fast, not looking back until the numbness in my legs matched the numbness in my heart. “I want you gone.” The words replayed in my head like a broken record. He was not being rude. I wouldn’t blame him. He was rich, handsome and capable. I was a broken thing, and men like him didn’t keep broken things. They used them and discarded them. I wrapped my arms around myself to feel a little less colder. "Stupid.” I muttered to myself. "You are so stupid, Aria." I had let a stranger use me. No, I had begged a stranger to use me. And for what? To forget what my husband did to me? To feel something other than fear? I reached the end of the driveway and stepped onto the main road. To my left, the road seemed unfamiliar, scary even, lined by tall trees. To my right, it led back toward the city… toward the life I had just escaped. I turned left. I had no money. My purse was back at the bar where I had left it before getting on his bike. My phone was dying. I needed my charger. My clothes. And.. Some money to survive. And I had nowhere to go. My brother wasn't answering. So, like a dog returning to its master after a kicking, I went back to the only roof I had. I went back to Ethan. When the arrived, the driveway was empty, which gave me hope. Maybe he was at work. Maybe I could sneak in, grab my bank cards, pack a bag properly this time, and disappear before he came home. I grabbed the spare key hidden under the doormat. My hands were trembling terribly so it took three tries to fit it into the lock. When the door clicked open, silence greeted me. I stepped inside with heart in my hand and closed the door softly behind me. "Ethan?" I called weakly. No answer came. I let out a breath in relief. He was gone. I had time. I rushed toward the stairs to find my purse. But as I reached the landing, a sound stopped me dead in my tracks. A moan. Then another came. My stomach dropped to my feet. It was coming from our bedroom. I should have turned around. I should have run back out the door and never looked back. But my feet moved on their own. They dragged me toward the slightly ajar door. Another sound. A giggle. A woman. I pushed the door open. The sight before me froze the blood in my veins. Ethan was on our bed. With a woman. She was straddling him with her back facing me. Her blonde hair bounced as she rode him. Cathy. Last time, I met her he introduced me to her as a colleague. He said she was working as the model for a campaign for his company. "Oh, yes, Ethan!" She screeched. A strangled gasp escaped my throat before I could even stop it. Ethan’s head snapped up. His eyes locked with mine. For a second, there was shock. Then, it was replaced by a fury. Cathy turned around, eyes wide. Seeing me standing there, she immediately got off from his body and grabbed the sheet to cover her naked body. "God!" She gasped and looked at him. “You told me she wasn’t coming back." "Get out." I whispered. I didn't realize I was shaking. "I said get out!" I screamed. My voice tore through the room. Cathy didn't need to be told twice. She gathered her clothes from the floor in a messy pile and walked out immediately. I heard her footsteps fading followed by the slam of the front door. Then Ethan stood up from the bed lazily. He seemed completely unbothered by his nakedness. He didn't look ashamed. He didn't even try to apologize. "You have some nerve, Aria.” He kept his voice dangerously calm. "Disappearing for a day. Ignoring my calls. And then you burst in here and interrupt me?" "You are sleeping with Cathy? Is that why you gave me all the open marriage nonsense?" I asked. Tears were blurring my vision. "After everything... after you beat me..." “I beat you because you don't listen.” He roared, closing the distance between us. "And now look at you. You look like trash. Who were you with? Who fucked you, Aria?” He leaned close to my neck and sniffed. Then his face twisted in disgust. "You smell like cheap cologne and sex." "I left because you nearly killed me!" I yelled back and stepped away. "And you came back." He mocked. "Because you have nowhere else to go. Because you are nothing without me." He grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked my head back. "No, Ethan, please…" But the first blow came so fast I didn't see it. His fist connected with my stomach. It knocked the wind out of me. I crumbled to the floor and gasped for air. "You want to act like a whore? I will treat you like one.” He spat and kicked me in the ribs, the same ribs that were already bruised. I curled into a ball, trying to protect my head but he was relentless. "Please!" I sobbed through the blood filling my mouth. "Stop!" He didn’t stop. He grabbed me by the throat and lifted me slightly off the ground before slamming my head back against the floorboards. Pain flared in my brain. Darkness filled my vision. "You belong to me!" He screamed angrily. "You don't leave until I say you leave! You don't fuck other men unless I approve them!" He punched me in the jaw and I felt my bone crack. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he stopped and kicked me for the last time. Then without another word, he turned and stepped into the bathroom. The shower turned on a moment later. I stayed there on the carpet, unable to move. The blood was drying on the carpet. My body was on fire. My face felt swollen. My lip was split again. I am going to die here, I thought. He is going to kill me when he comes out. I turned my head to the side. Nothing. Then I searched my pocket. It was empty. Where was phone? I looked around and under the the bed, I saw my phone. I didn't realize it had slipped from my pocket. A whimper left my lips as I tried to reach out. I failed at first. Then I slipped a little closer and dragged it toward me. The screen was cracked, but it lit up when I tapped the lock button. I immediately opened the keypad. I didn't call 911. Ethan knew lawyers… he knew the cops. He always talked his way out. My thumb hovered over the contacts. I only had one hope left. Jade. Again. I pressed the call button even though I knew he wouldn't pick up. I brought the phone to my ear. Ring. Please pick up. I still hoped. Ring. The darkness was closing in. I could hear the shower turn off. Ethan would be coming out soon. Ring. "Please." I sobbed silently. The call clicked. It was about to roll to voicemail. "Hi." A deep voice came from the other side. I didn't care who it was. I didn't care if it was Jade or God himself. I closed my eyes, trying to keep breathing. "Help.” I whispered weakly. "I want to go home."