Into The Storm

by Melanie Moreland

  Time seemed to stop as images started bombarding my brain. I fell forward, my head in my hands, as I tried to process the memories that were, suddenly, vividly alive again in my mind.

  It was my blood.

  This torn piece of material had been my blouse.

  And, it was torn off me by Brian in one of his rages.

  As he beat me.

  Again.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Rabbit

  I lay huddled on the floor. The automatic lights in the closet had long since turned off. My head was buried deep in Joshua’s hoodie, muffling my sobs.

  I remembered that day.

  Everything.

  Brian’s fury as he hit me over and over again.

  His hands painfully digging into my arms as he shook me, screaming in my face about yet another one of my failures as his wife. How I always ruined things, not made them better.

  The impassive, blank look as his foot drove into me repeatedly as I wept helplessly on the floor, the blood from my nose dripping down my face mixing in with my tears.

  I shuddered thinking about his face.

  Cold.

  Angry.

  Devoid of any human compassion.

  Because I’d worn a colored blouse. Something bright and pretty for a change.

  He had almost killed me because I’d worn something not approved by him.

  I sat up, still gripping Joshua’s hoodie, another wave of terror rolling over me. He had been angry and tense that day, more so than usual. Much like tonight. And, tonight I had failed to be perfect yet again.

  My stomach lurched. What would happen now? Would he come up here? Would he hurt me again?

  I wrapped Joshua’s hoodie around me like a talisman, praying it would protect me. I pushed myself into the corner of the closet and sat rocking, waiting for my answer.

  “Get out of those clothes, Rabbit,” Joshua’s voice hissed in my head. “Get into bed and pretend to be asleep,” the voice continued. “Do it, now.”

  I scrambled up on shaky legs and pulled off Joshua’s shirt. I stuffed that and his hoodie into the dresser and dragged a nightgown over my head. I made my way to the bed and crawled under the covers, burying my head into the pillow, still weeping, my mind overloaded with images and thoughts.

  I heard heavy footsteps on the stairs and I forced myself to be still. I curled into a ball and made sure my face was buried. My heart was thumping so loudly that I pushed my hand over it to muffle the noise. I heard my door open and I felt my body turn into ice with fear. Brian approached the bed and stood beside it. It took every ounce of my strength not to move under his gaze. I could feel the animosity pouring off him in waves.

  He spoke in the darkness, his voice low and furious.

  “You always ruin everything, Elizabeth. You’re always in the way.”

  And, then he turned and walked out.

  Eventually, I crept back into the closet and wrapped Joshua’s hoodie back around me. I went back to bed, in case Brian checked on me for some reason, and I lay there shivering in fright as images and memories came crashing back in a chaotic deluge.

  I recalled the painful memory of suddenly losing my parents in a car accident. Feeling lost and adrift and needing a change.

  The impulsive decision of accepting a job in Toronto, Ontario at one the libraries and moving, thinking a big city and new challenges would help me start to live again. But the move only increased the loneliness I felt instead of giving me a fresh start as I had hoped.

  Meeting Brian at the first benefit I attended. Being struck by his confident, almost domineering personality and surprised when he called me a few days later, requesting to see me again.

  I shuddered, remembering how I welcomed his sudden appearance in my life. How I unconsciously allowed him to take over my decision-making process, feeling somehow cared for again. His taking control began quietly enough; not liking my outfit and choosing something more ‘appropriate’ for me, chiding me for being too frivolous in conversations, separating me from what he deemed ‘unsuitable friends’, insisting my hair be worn a certain way to please him. I attended more and more events with him and he made sure our picture was taken often and seen through many press outlets. Slowly but surely, I was moulded into what he believed was a proper companion for him, and I’d blindly permitted it to happen.

  Six months later, we were married in a simple ceremony and that was when the reality of my poor decision-making became apparent.

  Always rather domineering and rigid, Brian became a tyrant. I learned very quickly that his word was law. I was the mistress of a large house with no say in how it was run whatsoever. All my personal effects were deemed unworthy of my new status; with the exception of a few of my books. I had a couple of boxes in the closet, the rest were discarded or given away.

  I wasn’t allowed to change a thing in the house. My ideas of warming it up and making it seem more welcoming were met with unyielding disapproval. My wardrobe was changed entirely to reflect the way someone ‘of my status’ should represent the James name. I wasn’t permitted to work. Brian allowed me to volunteer at the library, but only two days a week. The rest of my time was allotted to the various organizations he felt were worthy of my time and other activities he approved of. With only the people he approved of me being associated with.

  I lost myself. I was a symbol. I was Brian James’ wife. Taken out and shown off when needed, but otherwise ignored. I was pushed into the limelight as a benefactress of sorts of many charities and reminded of my place by Brian often. I learned rapidly not to let him know the quiet enjoyment I had working with the various groups. My happiness was not a priority with Brian.

  Very quickly, I learned the two sides to Brian James. There was the confident, commanding, yet charming, social persona and the cold, angry, dismissive private man. In public, we seemed a perfect couple. I attended every function with him, dressed as he deemed appropriate. We were always close, his arm around my waist, always quietly conversing. No one knew it was usually snide remarks about others being hissed into my ear or remarks about something I was doing to displease him. I learned to keep my eyes downcast and my face blank. His need for validation was obvious in his insistence of documenting all our involvement with the various organizations. I fast became weary of the attention, but he thrived on it. His seemingly doting attention, however, immediately halted when we were away from the cameras and people. In private, I was left alone most of the time.

  Our sex life, even from the start, was almost non-existent. While we were dating, I found it romantic that he was holding himself back, that he cared for me enough to wait. After we were married, the few fumbling attempts were disastrous, ending with him cursing and angry and me weeping, unsure of what I was doing wrong. I had very little experience and the blame was laid entirely at my feet. Brian had no problem informing me I was cold and unresponsive and, once again a total disappointment to him. I tried to please him in other ways but to no avail. A week after we returned from our short honeymoon, he informed me the room across the hall was now mine. He would be staying in the master suite. The only time he would enter my room was to inform me of an engagement or to inflict one of his many punishments for an error on my part. Of which there were many.

  A noise in the hall startled me out of my thoughts. It was still early, but the house was beginning to stir. Brian’s father would be coming for breakfast as he did every Sunday morning. He was the only person I ever saw Brian bow down to. He still controlled the reins at James Enterprises and constantly held a not so silent threat over Brian’s head to take the company away from him. I also knew on some level that was one of the things that drove Brian to be so insistent on the appearance of perfection. That on one level, somehow, I was worth something to him, that my presence was needed, but why it was I still didn’t know.

  I rolled over; cringing at the memory of the first time Brian had used his hands instead of his words to inflict pain. We had only been married a coup
le of months but I already knew it was a huge mistake on my part. Nothing I did pleased Brian. I was found lacking on every level. He treated me like an object to order around rather than a wife. We didn’t even share a bed. And, the control I once found comforting now was oppressive. I had heard him come upstairs and I went to my door asking to speak with him.

  Once he was in the room, I told him the truth. Obviously, he didn’t love me. I wasn’t happy and I didn’t think he was either. That perhaps it would be best to divorce and go our separate ways. At first, he stood listening to my halting words, showing no emotion, but the next thing I knew, I was slammed into the wall, his hands gripping my wrists painfully over my head.

  “That will never happen, Elizabeth. Divorce is not an option. You are mine until I decide otherwise. This is your life. Get used to it,” he snarled in anger. His hands tightened until I was whimpering in pain. I was sure he was about to break both my wrists. “If you so much as step out of line you will pay for it. Do you understand?”

  I nodded, unable to speak with the pain he was inflicting. “You will do what I say, when I say it. I own you. And, that is not going to change.” He pushed down even heavier on my trapped wrists and we both heard the snap.

  He pulled away and I sank to the floor, staring up at him in agony and terror.

  “Don’t bring this subject up again.” And, he had walked out of the room slamming the door. I had sat there weeping for the longest time. The next morning he took me to the doctor, who set my wrist and put on a cast without asking me a single question.

  It was then I knew how truly alone I was.

  Brian was right. He owned me. My parents were gone, and I had only a few acquaintances, but no friends in my life. He had made sure of that. There certainly wasn’t anyone I was close enough to that could protect me from Brian. He was too powerful and well-known here. I was viewed as a rich man’s wife, living a life most women dreamed of. No one was aware of my nightmare. I had no money of my own, no job and no one to turn to for help. I had blindly allowed Brian to isolate me entirely.

  I sat up in bed with a startling thought.

  My memory was back. And, while some things were still fuzzy, others were crystal clear.

  Now I understood why Brian didn’t want me to remember. Why he had wanted to find me.

  To make sure I kept quiet.

  If he knew I had remembered, I would be in even more danger than I was before.

  The stillness of the room was broken by my whispered plea.

  “Oh, God, Joshua, I need you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Rabbit

  I checked my reflection in the mirror. I was pale and looked tired. But my hair was perfect and my outfit impeccable. I drew in a deep breath, paused and then took another, desperately trying to calm my nerves. I had to do this. I steeled myself and went downstairs to join Brian and his father for breakfast.

  They were both in the dining room and I greeted them quietly before sitting down at my place. “You are pastier than usual, Elizabeth,” observed Douglas James with his customary snide bluntness. “As well as tardy.”

  I shook my head. I was already found lacking, and I had just walked in. “I apologize. I have another headache. It will pass.”

  “Take your medication,” Brian ordered.

  I nodded obediently; I knew whatever it was he’d been giving me wouldn’t help even if I did have a headache. I leaned forward, picking up the pill as Mrs. Smith came through the door with the breakfast plates and I used the distraction to palm the pill instead of swallowing it. I couldn’t afford to be drowsy today.

  I listened to the conversation between Brian and his father, only speaking when a question or comment was directed my way, which was not very often. The topics were mainly business. Throughout the entire breakfast I noticed there was a sense of animosity between the two which I could remember feeling before. I had thought that once Brian and I were married I would somehow bring the two of them closer; to be more of a family. I had hoped that one day these breakfasts would include some laughter instead of the veiled resentment Brian showed his father and the cold demeanor he in turn showed towards Brian. It had never happened. I never understood why they insisted on these weekly breakfasts.

  I barely touched the bowl of oatmeal in front of me. I disliked oatmeal intensely unless it was covered in brown sugar and cream. I knew, without asking now, that wasn’t an option. My bottom lip suddenly trembled as I fought the wave of emotion that ran through me. I didn’t want this. I wanted a plate of Joshua’s rather lumpy scrambled eggs and his slightly charred toast. I wanted Joshua looking across the table at me shrugging his shoulders, his eyes dancing as he watched me eat his latest attempt at breakfast. I thought of his warmth. How just being in the same room as him made me feel safe and content. I caught my bottom lip in my teeth as the trembling increased.

  I was so caught up in my thoughts, I startled when I heard Brian voice my name in annoyance, bringing me back to the present and the cold atmosphere of the dining room. I blinked at him, praying he would blame the behavior on the headache rather than anything else. He frowned at my seeming lack of concentration, but only reminded me of my appointment with the trainer that afternoon. I nodded, picking up my cup of tea to hide my trembling lip. He instructed me that there would be a car waiting for me at 9 a.m. to take me to the library the next day and would return at 3 p.m. to pick me up. I managed to remain calm and acknowledged his statements quietly.

  Brian placed his elbows on the table and looked at me. His voice was steady as he informed me a bodyguard would be accompanying me at all times when I left the house in the morning. I wanted to snort with laughter when he stated stiffly that it was for my own protection since the people who had kidnapped me were still at large. Instead, I nodded and thanked him quietly for his concern, the whole time my fingers dug into my leg, fighting the desire to stand up and scream at him that I knew the truth. To tell him I remembered the horrid way he had treated me; that I remembered everything. But I remained silent.

  After breakfast, I went up to my room, relieved for the brief time I wouldn’t have to struggle to hold back my emotions. I sat down on the edge of the bed, trying to relax while my brain raced.

  A bodyguard. I felt the growing dread inside my stomach.

  He was watching me. Waiting for my memory to return. Waiting for me to run.

  I shuddered. What was he going to do when he realized it had returned?

  What was I going to do when he knew?

  The next morning, the car pulled up outside the library and I sighed in quiet relief. This was always one place I was fairly free. I began to walk up the steps eagerly when my bodyguard, Bob, appeared beside me.

  “You need to wait for me, Mrs. James,” he stated gruffly.

  I stopped, catching myself. I nodded and continued walking. I had to pretend I didn’t know where to go. Or, who anyone was. This was going to be harder than I thought.

  An hour later, I was ensconced in my little office at the back of the library. I had been shown around by Kate, who informed me quietly she was sorry to hear of my ‘horrible ordeal’ and the resulting brain injury and memory problem I was left with. She quietly expressed that she hoped I would settle back in all right. Internally, I grimaced at what Brian was telling people. They were under the impression I was confused and not quite ‘with it,’ and needed to be treated accordingly. No doubt in case I suddenly accused him of something, he could point out the fact that I was acting irrationally and what I said could not be taken seriously. He was already setting the groundwork to make me look unstable in case my memory returned.

  I blinked and realized Kate was looking at me. I had totally missed what she was saying. “Sorry, Kate,” I apologized, having just demonstrated exactly the kind of behavior Brian would want to see to prove him right. “I was just … thinking,” I shrugged self-consciously.

  She smiled in understanding and patted me on the arm. She then told me they had purposely k
ept my schedule light for the next couple weeks so I could ease back in. I thanked her and she left me in my office, promising to come back and check on me soon. Bob was down the hall where he had a clear visual on anyone coming or going in the area.

  I looked around, soaking in the familiar room. There were piles of books on every surface and pictures that the children I read to had made for me on the walls. I loved the clutter. I knew Brian never came here so I was able to leave it the way I liked it. I could see Bob glancing my way so I made a show of looking around and inspecting the things around me like I didn’t recognize them. Then I sat down at my desk and turned on the computer.

  My first goal was to try and locate Joshua. Unsure where to start and not wanting to look overly eager, I forced myself to pay attention to other tasks that were waiting on my desk as well. Once I was sure Bob had grown bored with watching me shuffle papers and tap on the keyboard, I took the list of ideas I had out of my pocket and started searching. I kept stealing glances at him, but he was far more absorbed in the contents of his phone than what I was actually doing now that I was at my desk.

  Joshua was very good at hiding. There were lots of articles on him, but no recent pictures. There were a couple of grainy ones from when he was much younger and even those images my eyes drank in greedily. All of his interviews were voice or print only and there were very few personal details that I could find. Unable to resist, I plugged in my earphones and listened to a brief interview. Just hearing his warm voice brought tears to my eyes, and I had to blink them away when Kate appeared in my door to see if I wanted coffee. I quickly cleared my browser history, grabbed my mug and joined her. Bob only followed to the end of the hall and watched as we entered the staff lounge. I sighed as I poured a cup of coffee, already feeling the strain of the day.