One Thousand Miles

Nightmare In Paradise: Part Two

One Thousand Miles

Chapter  |  Nightmare In Paradise

Part  |  Two

By now the sink had sank all the way to the bottom of the ocean. In other words my heart was at the bottom of my chest. It was beating hard and fast and was filled with nothing but ache and fear. The back of my throat burned because of all the tears I had forced myself to swallow down last night. I could still feel his hand pressing down on my mouth, hushing me, keeping my sounds waves from exiting the room for somebody to hear. It felt like it was still there, but the only thing left behind was the marks on the lower part of my cheek where his fingernails dug down in my flesh.

Everything was too heavy to lift. My eye lids were either too heavy or just didn't want to see the world I lived in filled with love, hate, cruelty, and abuse. Abused. That was what I was. I was just one of probably very many abused housewives. I walked this earth with a different skin tone from almost everybody else. I was blue, purple, yellow, red, brown, or a nasty shade of green. The only thing I was needed for was making sure the house was clean and dinner was ready before the husband arrived home, the baby was taken care of, and the husband was happy. If I failed to do those simple tasks then he would most like strike me. One time. Two times. Three times. Four. Maybe more.

The cold air bit at my exposed skin and my teeth clattered. I gained the strength I needed to slowly peel open my eyes open only to come face to face with darkness. The curtains covering the window were shut, but I could tell it was morning because of the light peeking through the very small crack of the curtains. My left sore cheek was pressed against a hard chest and my arms were spread out over the sheets as if I had grabbed them in my hands. My naked chest was smashed the lower part of the other person's chest.

My eyes are now wide open, any trace of tiredness from moments ago was now gone. My breath picks up speed and my breaths come out in short pants. Quickly I reached for the blanket covering my lower half and pulled them off. I slid of John's arms and hurriedly climbed out of the bed and stood there staring at John's naked form before looking down at mine. I rushed into the en suite and locked the door behind me before sinking down to the cold tiled floor. I brought my legs into my chest before slowly raising my hand up to my forehead. 

"No, no he couldn't have," I said quietly to myself. But he did, I thought.

He sexually assaulted me. He raped me. No I couldn't think like that, it just didn't seem right, but my thoughts continued to bring it up. Your own husband, John, raped you. He forced himself on you for reasons unknown. You remember the screams you tried to let out, but didn't make it out of the room because of his hand. You remember his grunts of pleasure. You remember how dirty he talked to you. You just remember everything he did while he raped you.

I pulled at my hair and tilted my head back making it hit the door with a thump! I ignored the pain and continued to pull at my hair as I repeatedly hit my head against the door. "No, no it's not true! He didn't! He couldn't have!" I cried.

And that's when I heard it. I heard shuffling from outside the door and I immediately knew it was him. It was my husband. My husband John, the same one who raped me. Quickly I moved away from the door and pressed my back against the furthest wall and looked up at the door with wide eyes.

He knocked. "Stephanie?" I don't answer which causes him to sigh. "Baby I know you're in there. I can hear you breathing. Please just open the door for me...please. Just open up so we can talk, okay? I'm sorry."

I covered my mouth with my hand and felt where his nails had dug down in my skin. I closed my eyes tight and tried to tune out his pleading and sincere words. I thought about Cameron and the noises he made that always put a smile on my face. I thought about his soft skin and sweet baby smell. After that my thoughts were filled with images of John putting his hands on Cameron and me just standing there watching it happen. I tried to moved, but my legs wouldn't move. It was as if the bottom of my feet were being held down by dry cement. I screamed and yelled for him to stop, but no sound came from my mouth. Slowly I sank down to the floor and covered my ears and closed my eyes. I rocked back and forth saying the same words over and over. He's just a baby.