The driver glanced at them in the rear view mirror and asked where they wanted to go. Serenity gave him her address.
When they pulled up outside, darkness shrouded the duplex. Common sense told Serenity that Jackson lay in a bed at the hospital, but she couldn’t help thinking he’d been calling home to find she wasn’t there and now lay in wait for her in the dark. She tried to formulate excuses about where she’d been but nothing even remotely plausible came to mind.
“Don’t get out,” Serenity told Sebastian.
She trembled beside him.
“It’s okay,” he told her. “He’s not there. He’s at the hospital.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do. If you’re frightened, let me come in with you.”
She shook her head. “No. Maybe this time he wouldn’t hurt me. I’m sure he’s too much of a coward to confront another man, but he would pledge his life to catching me and making me pay. You can’t protect me all the time, Sebastian. I wouldn’t let you waste your life doing that.”
“It wouldn’t be a waste,” he sighed. “Anyway, he’s not home, I promise.”
“A neighbor might see you, and tell Jackson.”
“They won’t see me, Serenity. I have a way of not being seen.”
She couldn’t argue with him, though she knew she should question how he managed to go unnoticed. For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to ask the questions. Always a coward, she didn’t question Sebastian for the same reason she put up with how her husband treated her, because she was scared.
Instead, she climbed out of the cab, allowing Sebastian to pay the driver. She traversed the short distance to her front door and fished her keys out of her pocket. Putting the key in the lock, she turned her head, seeking out Sebastian. To her surprise, the cab had already pulled away.
He’d left!
Despite her request, her heart dropped out of her stomach. Filled with disappointment, Serenity turned back to find Sebastian standing beside her in the doorway.
“Jesus!” she exclaimed, jumping. “I hate it when you do that!”
“Sorry,” he said, though he was smiling. “I thought you didn’t want me to be seen.”
She hissed air out between her teeth in playful exasperation and pushed him through the open doorway.
Her heart pounded in nervous excitement. What was she playing at bringing another man into her husband’s house? What the hell did she plan on doing with him?
The thought made her cheeks flush and she couldn’t look at him.
“Coffee,” she offered, trying to hide her thoughts.
He was behind her in an instant, his arm wrapped around her waist, his face buried in her hair.
“Don’t pretend this is normal,” he whispered.
She shook her head, a tiny, almost imperceptible motion. “I don’t know what normal is any more.”
“You know more about life than most women. More than you should ever have to.”
“Not about you,” she said, turning into him. “I know nothing about you.”
He didn’t answer. Sebastian placed his forehead against hers and she closed her eyes, relishing every sensation being close to him brought.
“I can’t do anything with you,” she told him, unable to meet his eye, self-conscious at even the suggestion of something happening between them. “I’m married.”
“I’m not asking for anything physical, Serenity. All I want is to be near you.”
They curled up on the couch together; Serenity tucked into Sebastian’s lap, child-like, as he stroked her hair.
At some point she slept and, not long after, felt herself being moved, his strong arms lifting her and carrying her to the bedroom. Serenity thought she heard him speak to her, telling her stories of long ago, of times loved and lost. She imagined he told her he was hundreds of years old and shied from the light, but then she knew she was dreaming.
When she woke the next morning, lying fully clothed beneath the sheets of her bed, he was gone.
After a quick shower and change of clothes, Serenity went to pick up Jackson. He sat on the edge of the bed reading a newspaper. Her heart sank at the sight, but she’d been lucky to have two whole nights without him. The blissful world in which she’d been living didn’t really exist. She held no illusions about her life and was ready to crash back down to earth.
The doctors quickly signed Jackson out. Serenity wondered if, unable to take his frustration out on her, he’d been giving the nurses a hard time.
In the cab on the ride home, Serenity sat beside her husband, sick with sorrow. It felt wrong being in the same space as Jackson when she only wanted to be with Sebastian, but she was horribly scared and she didn’t possess the courage to leave.
Her eyes burned hot and dry, a lake of tears flowing behind them.
As they approached the duplex, Serenity saw she’d left the bedroom window open. Immediately, her heart raced. Was Sebastian there now, waiting for her? What would Jackson say? Even if he wasn’t, would Jackson realize another man had been in their bedroom? Would he sense, or smell, Sebastian on the air?
Her cheeks flushed with guilt. At the front door, her hands shook and she missed the lock. Jackson gave her a quizzical look and took the key from her. He opened the door, pushing the morning’s mail aside with his foot.
Serenity stepped into the house and pushed the door shut behind her. She bent to pick up the mail and threw the letters onto the small pile accumulating on the hall table.
“Make me some juice,” Jackson ordered, “and a sandwich or something.”
“Okay, honey. I won’t be a minute.”
“Bring it up to me in bed. I’m going to lie down.”
Why was she so powerless with him? However much she wanted to tell him to get it himself, the Stepford wife answer tripped from her lips; like he’d programmed her to do whatever he wanted.
That’s what years of beatings and mental torture does to you, the little voice in her head told her. Serenity wished she could figure out a way to break her training.
You have to leave him, she told herself once again.
Before meeting Sebastian, she hadn’t realized how terrible her relationship was. The beatings and the verbal abuse had become commonplace and Serenity hadn’t been able to imagine a relationship without the violence. She’d almost come to think the way he treated her was the norm. If she ever left Jackson and ended up with someone else, the relationship would be the same. Sebastian had opened her eyes and made Serenity realize someone could care about her without exerting physical force. She had to leave, she just didn’t know how or when to go.
Jackson spent the rest of the day ordering Serenity around and taking naps. As the day wore on, her resolve dwindled. She was crazy to think of leaving him. Nevertheless, she kept running through the possibility in her mind.
They had at least three thousand dollars in their joint account, maybe even a little more. Any other money they had saved, which wasn’t a lot, had been invested in shares, and she wouldn’t be able to touch the money without Jackson’s signature.
You could always forge his signature? The little voice piped up.
There were too many risks. What if the stockbrokers called Jackson to do extra security checks? Then he would figure out her escape plan and he would make her pay. The thought of him finding out made her sick to her stomach. He’d be so furious, he would kill her.
What about their joint account? Three thousand dollars wasn’t a huge amount of money, but was enough to get her started somewhere a long way from Jackson. If she went into the bank and asked to withdraw a big chunk of money, would they ask for Jackson’s signature as well? Her card had a daily withdrawal limit of three hundred dollars. It wouldn’t get her far and Jackson practically lived on his computer, especially on the Internet banking to watch the account. He knew exactly what she spent and when. He quizzed her on their need for each item after she went grocery shopping and, if she dared take ten dollars cash out of
the account, he would make her break down how every last cent had been spent.
On more than one occasion, she had almost pointed out that she was the one who earned the money, but if she’d ever allowed the words to leave her mouth, she probably would have ended up with a few less teeth.
Abandoning her marriage was a much more complicated endeavor than simply packing her bags.
Serenity cooked her husband a chicken dinner while he lay in bed, watching sports on the small television. He’d been complaining about the pain in his back, but Serenity struggled to conjure up any sympathy. Her own back throbbed with a dull ache, and though she had managed to ignore the pain for the majority of the day, spending the past few hours racing up and down the stairs, attending to Jackson’s demands, had left her feeling like someone had slammed a brick into her spine.
Serenity put the plate of chicken and potatoes on a tray and added cutlery and a small salt and pepper shaker. She braced herself as she picked up the tray and carefully made her way back up the stairs.
Jackson’s voice boomed from the bedroom and she flinched at the sound.
“Come on, ref! You’ve got to be joking!” he shouted at the television.
She walked into the room and set the tray down on his lap. He craned around her, acknowledging her arrival by striving to ignore her further.
Only when she stood back up did he look at the tray.
“You gave me fucking carrots? You know I hate carrots! And where’s my beer?” he demanded.
“I just thought… with your pain meds… you might not be...”
“Since when have you needed to think?” he sniped.
“I’m sorry, I’ll just...” She reached down to take the tray away at the same time Jackson reached for the fork. His arm hit her hand and the tray tipped, spilling hot gravy and chicken all over the bed.
She stared at the mess in horror, unable to move. Both of them paused, each waiting for the other to react. Serenity didn’t even dare to breathe.
Jackson didn’t look up. He spread his hands out above the mess on the duvet. “You stupid, little, bitch,” he said slowly. “Can’t you do anything right?”
“I’m so sorry, Jackson,” she said in a rush. “I’ll clean it up.”
She moved forward and bent over the spilt tray, picking bits of chicken and potatoes from the sheets. She was intensely conscious of him poised above her, even though he sat in bed. Anger radiated from him, a low hum of nearly audible violence. If he wasn’t in bed, injured, Jackson would have thrown her across the room by now. He wouldn’t let this one go. Whether he got her for it now or later, she would be punished.
Serenity didn’t have to wait long.
One of Jackson’s large hands grabbed the back of her head. Like he was trying to drown her in the bath instead of a bed full of gravy, he shoved her face down into the spilt meal.
She couldn’t breathe! Hot food scalded her face; forehead, cheeks and the end of her nose pressed into the hot gravy. She could feel her flesh reddening and still he kept pushing, mashing her face against the covers. The taste of chicken and gravy lodged in the back of her throat and she gagged, making her gulps for air even worse.
Desperately, Serenity tried to pull away but Jackson pushed her face down harder into the gravy.
“Does it taste good?” he spat, punctuating his words with an extra shove. “Huh, you stupid little bitch?”
Another shove.
She pushed back up with her hands and he gave her enough space to let her take one frantic gasp of air, before pushing her back down.
Serenity managed to turn her head to one side, gulping much needed oxygen, her eyes squeezed shut against the hot food. Gravy stuck her eyelashes together and matted her hair. Jackson’s initial rage had subsided; he’d had his fun.
He laughed, cruelly, and took his hand off the back of her head. Serenity lay across his lap, humiliated; exactly what he wanted.
“This isn’t time for a rest, you dumb bitch,” he said. “You owe me a meal.”
Serenity held back the tears until she made it out of the bedroom, then she stumbled down the stairs with tears pouring down her face. They were tears of rage and frustration. Her hands shook so badly she thought she might drop the tray on the floor this time.
I hate him. I hate him!
Somehow, after all the beatings, bruises and pissing blood, having her face rubbed in her husband’s chicken and potatoes had done something to her resolve. Finally, she decided to leave.
Back down in the kitchen, Serenity dished more food onto a clean plate. It was the meal she planned to eat, but she didn’t care. Deep in the pit of her stomach, a spark fired. Excitement, nervousness and fear completely sapped what little appetite she had left.
Serenity no longer cared about the practicalities; she would live on the street if that’s what it took. If she was treated like a dog in her own home, then she would roam the street like one.
Chapter Eight
Night had fallen once more.
Sebastian paced around his house, for that was all the building meant to him—a house, not a home.
A home should be filled with love and family and memories. This place contained none of those things. No family photographs filled the walls, no pets welcomed him home, and children’s laughter hadn’t been heard within the walls since Sebastian moved in.
The beautiful house had been filled with the finest furnishing and most expensive decor, but none of these things gave the building a soul. Like himself, the house was little more than a shell.
Loneliness had become a part of Sebastian. He thought he’d grown immune to the feeling. Loneliness and he walked hand in hand, joined together like Siamese twins. Only now the twin had become parasitic, the loneliness feeding on him to grow stronger.
As his solitude grew, Sebastian’s resolve to stay away from Serenity weakened.
He must be going crazy. He meant it when he’d told Serenity not to leave her husband for him. Their being together was inconceivable. He wouldn’t contemplate the events that needed to happen to make their union a possibility, yet he wanted to be around her. Being close to her healed his wounds but Sebastian knew his being there wasn’t good for her. He could bring her nothing but confusion, anguish and despair. With a single word, he would turn her whole idea of the world and what it contained upside down.
Serenity didn’t deserve any of this. She should be happily married with a couple of children, or have a high flying career or be traveling the world. She should be doing whatever she wanted to make her happy.
Frustration churned within him as he paced. He couldn’t stay indoors, the confining walls did nothing to help his pent up despair. He needed to be outside, be part of the night again.
Sebastian stepped out of the front door and headed down the driveway to the front gate. He hit the buzzer on his keys and the electric gates slid open before him.
An unused, silver Audi A6 sat in the drive. Despite having taught himself to drive many years ago, being behind the wheel made him nervous. Driving wasn’t in his nature. Anything involving technology and mechanics didn’t sit well with him.
What was the point in a car when he moved faster under his own power?
Sebastian didn’t intend to head down into the commotion of the city. Even at night, Los Angeles bustled with people. For every celebrity, several thousand wannabes lived in the metropolis. Every waitress, sales person, even the guy who pumped your gas, wanted to be an actor. Tourists intertwined with the dreamers, and dotted between them were the extremely rich who thought themselves famous. An undercurrent of kooks and weirdoes also had their place in LA. Many could be found hanging out at Venice Beach. Sebastian found the area a good hunting ground. When that type of person went missing, it caused less of a stir. Those people disappeared all the time and normally had fewer people who cared about them
Even so, Sebastian hated to take life. He never killed unless necessary and he found he needed to feed once a month to survive. Even so,
once monthly for centuries amounted to a lot of death. But he had grown used to it, dulled, anesthetized. He didn’t care about these people. Most of them were worthless pieces of space; drug addicts and dealers, lazy bums who never bothered to work.
But then who was he to play God?
He’d tried to starve himself, but the need grew overwhelming. The hypocrisy of looking down on drug addicts when, in many ways, Sebastian wasn’t much better himself didn’t evade him.
Tonight, he didn’t head down to Venice Beach. Instead, he turned away from the city and headed deeper into the hills toward the national park. He felt better being among nature, away from the bright Los Angeles lights. The giant, white Hollywood sign hung high above him.
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