Saved By The Devil
By Michelle Woods
Copyright © 2019 Michelle Woods
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations in critical reviews and articles.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, groups and incidents are products of author’s imagination or are used in a non-factual manner and are not to be construed as real. Any events, organizations, or persons depicted are entirely coincidental.
For more information or to request permission contact: [email protected]
Edited by: Mary Bogart Crenshaw
Copyright © 2016 Shutterstock/Image
Copyright © 2016 Shutterstock/Image
Publisher: Woods Publishing & Design Inc.
Cover: Woods Publishing & Design Inc.
Contact: [email protected]
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
Chapter One
Phoebe checked the clock again, her heart sinking as she noted the time. Damn, she wasn’t going to get this done before he arrived. She stirred the noodles again, her hand clenching so tightly around the spoon her knuckles turned white. She tapped it on the side of the pot before setting it in the spoon rest. Why had she tried to save a few dollars by going to the Dollar store? She knew she needed to be back at the apartment by four to make Johnny dinner. He expected it on the table by the time he got home. She should know by now that disappointing him was a bad idea.
She eyed the clock on the wall again and smoothed the dress she’d put on a moment ago. Her heart pounded in her ears as she tried to calm down, taking in deep even breaths like her therapist had advised. Everything had to be perfect. She knew what happened when things weren’t exactly how he liked them. Phoebe grimaced. She closed her eyes and laid her hand over her slightly queasy stomach. She was almost free—another week tops and she’d be finished with this life. Leaning against the counter with her heart still beating a hundred miles a minute, she took in another lungful of air. Despite her constant stirring, the noodles just weren’t ready yet.
Phoebe tensed when the key jiggled in the lock, silently cursing her luck. Of course, he’d be early tonight. She grabbed a beer from the fridge and quickly moved to stand in the hall with a bright smile on her face. Maybe he would be in a good mood tonight. Maybe everything would be okay.
Phoebe knew she was kidding herself, but a girl could hope. She released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding as she moved towards the front hall. Her insides trembled waiting for him to enter their apartment. She wanted to run and hide, but she knew better. He’d find her and he’d be even more pissed if she did. Johnny shoved the door open and it banged into the wall, making her jump.
“Hi, honey. How was your day?” she asked in the bubbly happy voice that he liked her to use. She smiled brightly, hoping like hell he wasn’t in a bad mood. Johnny stared at her for a long moment, his eyes narrowed as he stood by the door watching her. Hovering at the end of the hall about six feet from him, she could already see the telltale signs she wasn’t getting her wish tonight. Johnny shut the door, a malicious look on his face. He stepped towards her and it took everything she had not to run as she steeled her spine and waited. She clenched the beer bottle tightly, still hoping she could appease him.
“You only use that fake tone when you’ve done shit wrong. What the fuck did you do tonight, you stupid bitch?” Johnny snapped, his eyes glassy and unfocused.
Damn, he was high again. Phoebe took an involuntary step back, her body shaking in anticipation of the blow she knew was coming. Her hands twisted in the skirt of her sundress and her breathing became erratic. She hated when he was high. He became impossible to please when he was, and the night always ended with her in the bathroom trying to hide bruises. Or worse, in the emergency room.
“Here’s your beer, dearest,” Phoebe said sweetly, trying not to get too close as she held it out to him. Her reluctance to get near him wouldn’t help but she couldn’t convince herself to get any closer. Fear coursed through her, making her entire body tremble. Johnny took the remaining steps toward her and reached for the beer. For a second, Phoebe thought things might be all right. With the beer balanced between her hand and his she almost believed for a moment that his mood would change. He jerked the bottle up between them shaking it. She watched dumbly as the unopened beer fizzed. She idly wondered if it would shoot the top off and hit him in the face.
“You think this will save you?” he demanded before he threw the bottle at the wall.
Glass shards shot at her bare legs like tiny little bullets. She cried out as several pieces cut her. She stared down at the blood on her calves trying hard not to run. Things always escalated when she ran. Maybe if she just stood here, he’d leave her alone this time. Phoebe almost laughed hysterically at her own unrealistic idea.
“Stupid cunt! I don’t want a fucking beer. Where the fuck is my dinner, bitch?” Johnny demanded as he loomed closer. Phoebe flinched slightly and tried hard not to enrage him further, but knew she would be fighting a losing battle.
“I-It’s almost finished. I just need to pour the noodles into a bowl and bring it to the table. I made that sauce you liked so well last we—” she didn’t finish because he slapped her. The crack of his palm slamming into her cheek was loud in the silent apartment. Pain lanced across her jaw and her teeth rattled as her head was knocked to the side. Phoebe took a step back and cupped her face. She trembled, tasting blood as he hands grabbed her shoulders and his hard fingers dug into her flesh painfully. Johnny slammed her into the wall and got right in her face.
“You should have my fucking dinner done and already on the table, lazy cunt. What the fuck do you do all day?” Johnny yelled in her face. A bit of spittle landed on her cheek and she tried to pull away from him. Phoebe knew this would enrage him more, but it was instinct to turn away and she couldn’t stop her reaction despite her desperate need to make him happy so he’d leave her alone. Johnny grabbed her chin twisting her head back towards him. Her neck burned and she could feel the hard grip he had on her chin.
“Stop trying to turn away, bitch,” Johnny demanded, his eyes wild. “You know you deserve this shit.” Phoebe wanted to shout at him that she didn’t deserve it. She wanted to tell him that no one deserved to be treated this way, but she didn’t. She just closed her eyes briefly and prayed he wouldn’t hurt her too badly this time. He turned her to face him, holding her chin so tight it throbbed and she knew she’d have more bruises to hide tomorrow.
“Please, I’m sorry. I’ll do bett—” Phoebe begged softly, her words distorted by the tight hold he had on her chin. Tears stung her eyes as she fought her instinct to fight back. She knew that things always got worse if she fought back. After nearly a year of his abuse she knew what set him off most of the time, but it was still hard to push her natural instincts back into their box. If she hadn’t let him twist her life into this fucked up version of a marriage she’d have
been long gone. He’d cut her off from her friends and her only family had died six months ago.
“Shut the fuck up! I can’t believe you’re such a fucking useless bitch. I bet you were out shaking your ass for some other man, weren’t you? That’s what you do when I’m gone, isn’t it? You fucking shake your pretty ass at other men because you’re a fucking whore. A useless fucking whore,” Johnny shouted at her as he pushed her head into the wall harder. He grabbed her neck and choked her. She clawed at his hand, trying to get him to let her go. After a moment he shoved her hard into the wall before grabbing her face again.
Phoebe couldn’t help the sob that escaped her as her hands rose to pull at his hand, trying to get him to let her go. She wanted to kick him or at the very least fight, but she’d learned months ago that it wasn’t a good idea. The last time she’d tried to fight back she’d ended up in the hospital for a week with three broken ribs.
“No, no, I would never do that, p-please,” she whimpered. Her words were distorted and likely undecipherable. Not that Johnny would have listened in the mood he was in anyway. Begging was something she’d become really good at in the last few months since her hospital stay, not that it ever helped.
“Stupid fucking whore,” Johnny snarled as he slapped her again, his hand hitting her so hard that she felt her ears ring.
Her mind became unfocused and disjointed. Phoebe tried to breathe through the pain as he shoved her down onto her knees. She felt the jolt of them hitting the floor echo through her whole body. Her teeth clashed together, and her jaw ached from where he’d squeezed it. His hands were tightly clenched around her upper arms and he shook her like a rag doll. He screamed in her face calling her a whore and a cunt, following each word with another hit. Every strike sent more pain radiating through her as she begged him to stop. Her words only made him laugh as he told her what a stupid bitch she was. By the time he stopped slapping her she could taste blood in her mouth and her face felt swollen. Her cheeks throbbed and the cut above her eye was bleeding profusely.
He shoved her shoulders roughly and she fell back, hitting her head hard on the wall as she tried to protect her face. Phoebe knew what was coming so she curled into a ball and tried to make herself the smallest target she could manage. With her legs drawn up to her chest she felt Johnny kick her legs. Thankfully he didn’t put much force behind the kick or she might have ended up in the hospital again.
“I’m going to have to go get something in town because you didn’t make me dinner, bitch,” he said, following those words with another kick to her leg.
Phoebe whimpered and curled into a tighter ball, her sobs shaking her body as she tried hard to fight her urge to jump up and hit him. Most people would call her weak or stupid for taking Johnny’s abuse and they weren’t wrong, but they also didn’t understand. Abuse broke you down. It started small and seemed to snowball from there. This certainly wasn’t how she’d envisioned her life.
Ending up in the hospital was one of the best things that could have happened to her. If she hadn’t talked to one of the nurses in the ER, then she might not have a plan to get away from Johnny. She was mere days away from freedom. If she could manage not to piss him off enough for him to try and kill her then she’d be free. On the run—sure, but free. Phoebe knew that he’d try to find her because he’d already threatened to kill her if she tried to leave him. The thought sent fear spiking through her and she had to shove it down and remind herself that freedom was worth the risk.
She peeked down the hall and watched Johnny move around in the bedroom. He was throwing stuff from the closet, most likely looking for drugs or money he had stashed there. Even with him currently distracted she didn’t dare try to get up or move. He typically left her alone if she didn’t try to get up after he’d beat her; not always but more often than not.
Johnny finally found what he’d been looking for and stormed from the bedroom. His strong jaw line and tanned skin looked red and blotchy from his high. His hair was wild from where he’d run his hands through it, making it stick up in uneven spikes of ice blonde with dark roots. He was such a handsome man to be so evil. Phoebe remembered when the sight of him had sent butterflies of excitement stirring inside her. Now the only thing that he stirred in her was fear and hatred.
“Won’t be home tonight, whore. Going to be out all fucking night so don’t expect me back till tomorrow. You better not be shaking your ass at another man while I’m gone,” Johnny snapped, shoving her leg with his foot before he slammed out of the apartment, leaving her in a huddle on the floor.
Phoebe waited about ten minutes to be sure he wasn’t coming back before she stumbled to her feet and limped to the bathroom, locking herself inside. She stared at her tear streaked face. Her left eye was swollen with a small cut just above it. She titled her head, noting that she had bruises along her jaw from where he’d grabbed her face. Her neck was the worst. Where he’d choked her there were dark finger prints that throbbed when she touched them.
Most of the bruises weren’t too bad, but they’d be hard to hide with concealer because they were pretty dark already. Having experience with bruises she knew the ones that started off deep were the hardest to cover. When they hit that awkward yellow-green stage they were always impossible to conceal, and she would know because she’d had to do it more than once. Phoebe evaluated the rest of her body and noted that the worst of the bruises were on her arms and her legs where he’d kicked her.
Brushing her dirty blonde hair from her face, she inspected the deep handprints on her jawline before closing her eyes and trying to imagine her life if she’d never met Johnny. Would she be finishing up the degree he’d convinced her not to get? Or would she have changed majors to art because she loved to draw and paint. Maybe she would have found something she loved to do and started doing it. Would she have been there when her mother died? Or for her friends’ weddings or their first babies? She didn’t know but it had to be better than this life she was currently living.
When she’d first met Johnny, he’d been so sweet and attentive. His jealousy and possessiveness had seemed romantic. For the first three years she’d been happy but around the beginning of year four things had begun to change. Johnny stayed out late after work and his behavior had seemed erratic. His jealousy had become rages and then violence. By that time, she’d been completely dependent on him. She didn’t have any money of her own and all her friends had gotten fed up with his constant jealousy. She’d felt trapped, like she couldn’t leave. At first, he’d been apologetic when he’d hit her, treating her like spun glass for days before flying off the handle in another fit. Afterwards he’d been tender and gentle. It was a cycle—a pattern. One that had become familiar over the past months.
He hit her, then he said he was sorry. Phoebe had known he didn’t mean it after the second time so she’d fought with him, trying to get away as he hit her. That was how she’d ended up in the hospital a few months ago. It had been a particularly rough night and he’d been especially violent. That night had changed her life because the ER nurse had recognized the signs of abuse. She’d talked to Phoebe about leaving and the tools she had to offer. That was the first time she’d realized there a way to escape this tragic relationship. It had taken about four seconds for her to decide that she was ready to take that step.
Maryann—the nurse—had gotten her in touch with a shelter that helped battered women and children in the area create new lives. They’d helped her create a plan, one that would work for her. She’d told them no when they offered her a room at the shelter. She didn’t want to be anywhere near Denver when she finally settled. She was headed towards Iowa or maybe Minnesota, she didn’t really know where but she was damned sure it was going to be hundreds of miles away from here because she wasn’t planning on starring in her own true crime story. Her husband wouldn’t be murdering her and hiding the body.
They’d found her a part time job at the shelter that paid her enough to stash away about six thousand dollars ov
er the last three months. Not having any bills of her own made it easy to save. Phoebe knew she’d have to be careful to make sure she didn’t leave a paper trail. One of the women at the shelter she had become friends with was willing to rent a car in her name. This meant nobody could trace the car rental to her. Phoebe was going to drive the car to South Dakota before buying a bus ticket to get her closer to her goal. In two days, she would be done with this life and free from her husband’s violent care. She just had to make it through the next few days and she’d never have to deal with the abuse he doled out to her again.
She went to the shower and turned on the hot water. She climbed inside and sat down on the floor of the shower and cried as the warm water soothed her. Phoebe held her legs tightly to her chest and for the first time in forever her mind was filled with plans for a better future.
Chapter Two
“Jazzy, get your shoes on so we can go meet Cody and Rage at the park,” Peanut called out as he pulled his boots on by the door. He grabbed his wallet and keys off the table and stared down the hallway wondering what the heck was taking her so long.
“Jazzy, let’s go!” he called out. He frowned. What was that little hellion doing in the bathroom? He watched as she came barreling out of the hall bathroom with her hair half in a ponytail. His guts clenched with worry when he saw the panicked look on her face.
“Dad, dad, help! I can’t get it out,” she screeched, her eyes wide and filled with worry as she tugged at her hair.
“Let me see, sweets,” Peanut said, turning her around to find her hair tangled around the ponytail holder. “Jazzy, why did you mess with it? I helped you put it up this morning and it was fine.”
“I wanted to cut some bangs,” Jasmine grumbled nearly giving him a panic attack. Had she cut her hair? Fuck, he hoped not because he didn’t know shit about cutting hair any more than his nine-year-old did.
Saved by the Devil (Devils Arms Book 3) Page 1
