Releasing a breath, I lean against the railing and stare out over the ocean. Avery's life is like a jigsaw in my mind, and the pieces are slowly falling together as I learn more about her. I find myself wanting to complete the puzzle and see the whole picture, because I think there is much more to her than meets the eye. I have a compelling urge to protect her, and I have a feeling deep down that's exactly what she needs right now.
CHAPTER 4
AVERY
It's Wednesday afternoon, and Jacob is showing me how to build an awesome array of Lego vehicles, airplanes and castles. I am so excited about Nathan leaving on Friday for his weeklong conference in Seattle that I am in a better mood than usual. Jacob must have been able to sense it, because he insisted on going to the activities room to play. He hardly ever wants to leave his room, so this is a big deal for him. He pulls a portable IV pole behind him as he floats his newly built stunt airplane in the air with his other hand. He mimics engine noises with his mouth, and I can't help but grin.
"Wow, Jacob. That is the coolest plane I have ever seen."
"Really?" he asks with wide-eyed innocence.
I chuckle. "Yes, really."
He smirks and continues to fly his plane around the room. My eyes follow him before catching a glimpse of two figures in the hallway. My eyes lock onto Dr. Harrison as he talks with Dr. Benson. Max throws his head back and lets out a hearty laugh at something funny the other man said. His laugh is infectious, and a smile tugs at my lips.
His dark shaggy hair falls in front of his eyes as he leans forward; and he's quick to give his head a slight shake, so that the hair returns to its natural and sexy just-got-out-of-bed style. I can't seem to drag my gaze away from him no matter how hard I try. For the first time in a long time, I feel attracted to a man and not fearful of being around him. I guess Nathan hasn't stolen everything from me after all.
For the past couple of days, I've been seeing Max more and more around the hospital. He always says hi or tries to strike up a conversation with me in the halls. I usually just smile or wave. And for the past two days, we've eaten lunch together in the cafeteria. I think I maybe said a total of five words to him as he jabbered away about the hospital and the weather. It's not that I don't want to talk to him, but I have a deep-rooted fear instilled in me that both of us will end up getting hurt in the long run. Until I am free from Nathan, I can't even think about being with anyone else. If Max would get hurt because of me, I'd never be able to forgive myself.
In all actuality, I doubt if I even have any real chance with Max. I'm sure he's just trying to be friendly. Nevertheless, he always seems nervous around me, for some reason; and it's undeniably sweet and cute. I've seen him talking to the nurses, who are all clamoring to get his attention. It's against hospital policy to date coworkers, but people do it all the time anyway. I'm sure he'll have no problem finding a willing nurse to keep their relationship on the down low. A pang of jealousy hits me hard when I think of him being with someone else, but I have no reason to be jealous over a relationship that I could never have.
As if sensing my gaze, Max turns and looks at me. He caught me staring, and I feel the heat rise to my cheeks. His lips curl up into a big grin. He gives me a wave, and I wave back. He takes a step towards the doorway, but Dr. Benson says something and points down the hall. I watch as a deep frown appears on Max's face before he nods and follows the other doctor.
I wonder if he's upset because he didn't get the chance to talk to me. My heart beats a little faster at the thought. Even though I know we would never stand a chance, it's still exciting to think about the possibility.
"Avery, can we come back in here some other day and build a rocket ship?" Jacob asks, diverting my attention from the now empty hallway.
"Sure, Jacob. Whatever you want."
"Awesome!" he says enthusiastically.
Jacob is having one of his better days, and I hope that he does feel up to playing in the activities room again. His condition is so touch and go at the moment while he goes through treatments. It breaks my heart when he's sick, but he lights up my life when he's having a good day like today.
I keep an eye on the time. Nathan's threat is still fresh on my mind from the other night. I cannot be late. I'm looking forward to when he's gone next week, and I won't have the compulsive need to glance at my watch every few minutes. "Okay. I think it's time to clean up."
It's a team effort putting all the tiny Lego pieces back into the appropriate boxes. Once we're done, I walk Jacob back to his room and tuck him into bed. "Did you have a good day?" I ask.
"The best!" His little arms reach out and hug me tight.
I can feel my emotions getting the better of me as I hug him back. "I'm so happy to hear that." My eyes roll up at the ceiling as I try my best to keep the tears at bay. If he only knew how much his small gesture means to me.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Avery," Jacob says, pulling away.
"Okay, buddy. See you tomorrow." I am overwhelmed with happiness when I leave his room. I grab my purse and make my way to the parking garage.
On the way home, my happiness is slowly replaced with sadness, tension and worry. I park the car and rush into the house. Nathan is not home yet, fortunately.
I quickly pull my hair up into a ponytail and change out of my scrubs and into a simple, but expensive gray tank dress and matching flats. My hands are a blur as they move quickly to prepare dinner and set the table. Half an hour later I hear Nathan's car pull up and the door slam shut. An instant feeling of dread creeps upon me. I always get that sinking feeling when he comes home.
Nathan enters the house with a smile on his face. He reminds me of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I never know who is going to be walking through that door and what kind of mood he is going to be in.
With a forced smile on my face, I ask, "How was your day?"
"Good," he says. "Very good actually." Coming up from behind me, he wraps his arms around my waist. Then he stills. "Something you're forgetting?" he asks in a low voice.
I scramble to think of what I could have forgotten. It could be something as little as a dish I left in the sink or something he told me to do and I didn't remember. I'm in panic mode as I try to think. My heart pounds hard against my ribcage with an erratic rhythm. Think! I scream in my head.
He steps away, and I feel my entire body automatically tense in preparation for retribution. "Your apron," he whispers in my ear as he puts the loop around my neck and ties it around my waist. "We don't want to ruin these beautiful clothes I work so hard to buy for you, now do we?"
"I'm sorry," I say quietly. I hate apologizing all the time, but it comes so naturally to me now.
"No need to be sorry, Avery. Just learn from your mistakes." His hands gently massage my tight shoulders. "You're so tense," he whispers against the shell of my ear. "Maybe I can help you with that." He kisses my neck as his hands trail down the length of my body.
I force myself not to cringe from his touch. "I'll never be able to finish cooking if you keep doing that." I try hard to make my tone lighthearted so that he doesn't sense anything's wrong. It's not that Nathan isn't aware of my displeasure towards him and especially towards his abuse. It's just easier if I play along with his sick game. He likes to pretend that we have the perfect, happy marriage, but that couldn't be farther from the truth.
He grins against my throat. "All right. I'll save it for later," he promises.
My stomach drops at his promise, but I continue on with the task of making dinner in an attempt to distract myself.
We eat in silence, as usual. Nathan received a phone call while dinner was in the oven, and his mood drastically went from good to bad. He glances at his phone every time it buzzes. A deep frown is set on his face, and I can feel the anger coming off of him in waves.
I take my time eating, hoping that he'll get tired and just go to bed without touching me. As I'm lifting a forkful of food to my mouth, he says, "Go brush your teeth and put the black and pink chemis
e on that I like."
I stare down at my plate. "But I'm not done eating." My voice sounds so weak and small, and I cringe inwardly.
He glares at me from across the table and slowly stands. His eyes look wild. His inner Hyde is back in full swing. "Don't test me, Avery," he says in an unnervingly soft tone. "Get up and do what I told you to do. Now!" he commands, slamming his fist down on the table.
I jump, and my fork clinks down on the plate as it falls from my grip. I stand up from my chair and hurry into the master bathroom. My hands are trembling as I fumble with the toothbrush and toothpaste. I manage to squeeze a small amount onto the brush and stick it in my mouth. I can see the tears welling up in my eyes, but I don't dare let them fall. If he sees them, he'll be even more upset with me. I hum to myself, a calming method I have been using since I was a child after my mother died. Slowly the tears dry up, and I quickly spit and rinse my mouth.
I walk into the adjoining bedroom. In another life, I would dream of a bedroom like this. The floor-to-ceiling windows on the far wall overlook the beach and ocean. The plush carpet is ivory, and the furniture is dark in stark contrast to it. The focal point of the room is the four-poster mahogany king-sized bed. The sight of it always makes my stomach tie into knots, and tonight is no exception.
Feeling nauseous, my fingers scramble to pull open the doors and top drawer of the armoire. After a few seconds, I spot the babydoll chemise Nathan was talking about. I undress quickly and slip into the lacey material that leaves nothing to the imagination.
"Lovely," Nathan says from the doorway.
Startled, I turn to him. I had no idea he was watching me.
"Come here," he demands, as his eyes greedily sweep over my form.
Reluctantly, I slowly walk over to him. His fingertips graze down my sides, and I shiver in response to his touch. Then his hands wrap around my waist and pull me roughly against him. He puts a finger under my chin and makes me meet his gaze. "I want you so bad right now," he breathes against my lips. His mouth slants over mine. The kiss is soft at first, but grows demanding far too quickly. He snakes his fingers into my hair, gripping tightly and pulling until my scalp is throbbing in pain. Locked into his grasp, his lips press harder against mine in a bruising kiss.
His hands release my hair and move to my wrist. He abruptly twists me around and shoves me over to the bed. His hand is on my back, forcing me facedown on the mattress and pinning me down. I don't dare resist even though every fiber of my being is screaming at me to do just that. Instead, I turn my head to the side and stare out the tall windows at the dark ocean beyond, wishing that I could disappear into the water and not face what is about to happen.
The sound of him unzipping his pants fills the room, and a shudder runs through me. My breathing is shallow through the web of my long hair covering my face. Once he's undressed, he pushes my thighs apart. He always takes me like this, from behind. With another man, it might be an enjoyable position. But with Nathan, it feels degrading, as if he can't bear to look at me. We've never had sex any other way. And since he was my first, I don't know any other way.
I can feel his hard length poised at my entrance. I tell myself to breathe through the pain, to try to relax so it hurts less, but my body tenses up from knowing what's coming next. He's done this before so many times --- taken me when I wasn't ready…violating me…raping me.
"Wait! Please!" I cry out.
But he doesn't even hesitate. He parts my lips and enters quickly, brutally spearing me. With no lubrication, it feels like I'm being torn in half. I turn my face into the mattress to muffle my screams. He continues his brutal assault, pumping in and out of me inch by inch until he completely forces his way inside.
"You. Are. Mine," he says, enunciating each word with a powerful thrust.
Tears fill my eyes and spill over onto the sheets below. The pain is excruciating, and I know he won't stop until he gets his fill of me. I try to steady my breathing, but silent sobs wrack my body as he continues to assault me. His hands grope their way up the length of my body and tightly encircle my wrists, holding me in place as he thrusts savagely. His fingers are forming new bruises over the old ones that barely had a chance to heal. The bruises are his marks of ownership, his way of displaying his power over me.
I don't fight back. I've been conditioned with years of mental abuse to learn not to fight back. When you fight back, it's worse. My brain goes into hibernation mode, not being able to handle the overload of sensory abuse on my body. And so I quietly drift into another state where I'm calm, unaware of my surroundings. I stare out the windows at the dark water, and I picture myself as a bird flying over the waves. I feel so free and happy, gliding through the night without a care in the world.
I want to disappear.
Let me disappear.
I close my eyes and repeat those two sentences in my mind over and over again. I withdraw into myself, barely feeling any pain now. I block out his heaving pants and grunts. And then it's quiet. I'm in a different place, and anywhere is better than here. It's amazing what your mind is capable of when you're in a situation you can't escape physically. The more time that passes while I'm with Nathan, the more withdrawn and numb I become. Soon I wonder if I'll be able to feel anything ever again.
My face sinks down into the cool cotton sheet now wet with my tears as he grunts one final time. He collapses on top of me, his hot breath on the back of my neck. "That was so good, baby," he whispers and kisses my tear-stained cheek. He slowly pulls out of me and walks to the bathroom. "I'm going to take a shower and go to bed. Are you staying up?" he asks sweetly.
I'm always surprised by the way his personality is like an on and off switch. He can change his demeanor in an instant. I never know what mood he is in or will be in, and that is what scares me the most. It takes all of my willpower to keep my voice steady as I manage to say, "Yeah. I think I'm going to clean a little."
"Okay. Goodnight."
After the door to the bathroom closes, I curl into a fetal position and tremble. This time was worse than all the others combined. I feel completely and utterly gutted. Silent sobs wrack my body as I hear the shower turn on in the next room.
After a few minutes, I manage to stand. I grab a change of clothes from the armoire and make my way to the guest bathroom. I'm so sore I can barely walk, but I force myself to move. Very gently, I clean myself up and change into a pair of gray lounge pants and a black sweatshirt.
As I'm getting ready to walk out of the bathroom, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My eyes aren't as bright and full of life like they used to be. They look dull and vacant. I barely recognize myself anymore. The girl I once was is slowly slipping away day by day. A year ago I would have fought back. I wouldn't have let him do that to me. I would have kicked and scratched and yelled. But over the years I have learned that the punishment is so much worse than what I'm actually subjected to. Nathan owns me in every sick sense of the word, and he's always quick to remind me of that fact.
Tearing my gaze away, I walk out and begin to clean up the dining room and kitchen. I concentrate on the sounds coming from our bedroom as I load the dishes into the dishwasher. Nathan is done with his shower, and then I hear him climb into bed.
I grab a bottle of painkillers from the cupboard and a bottle of water from the fridge. My entire body is covered in a thin sheen of sweat from the pain currently running through my body. I pop a few pills and swallow them down with the water. It hurts to move, but I know I can't stay in this house another second. I need my release. I need to hear the ocean waves crashing around me, and I need some sort of solitude to offset this hell I'm living in.
A stray whimper escapes my lips, and I clasp a hand over my mouth to silence the sound. I hurry to the back door and slip into a pair of sneakers.
And then I run.
I don't stop running until I reach the ocean. My knees buckle as emotions overcome me, and I fall to the sand below, sobbing so violently I have trouble breathing. "I can't
do this anymore!" I howl into the crashing waves. "I can't live like this." I stare into the dark water, and I wish it would just swallow me up and take me away from this place.
The realization slowly settles down upon me. I need to leave him. Nathan is going to be gone for a week, and I know that something has to be done while he's gone. He's left for weekend trips before, but never for an entire week. It almost seems like fate is intervening just when I need it to the most and just when I was beginning to think I couldn't handle anymore.
I can't stay married to someone who treats me like this. If I can't run away, maybe I can hide. I need to talk to my father. He is the only one who can help me now. I don't have anyone else. Nathan saw to that a long time ago when he slowly put a wedge between my friends and myself until we stopped speaking and I was all alone. I realize now why he did that --- it was so when the time came when I was ready to leave him, I would have no one to turn to. He knew exactly what he was doing. He's always ten steps ahead of me and completely methodical.
If he won't let me go, I might need to take drastic measures…again. I stare down at my wrist and the scar from when I attempted to take my life six months ago. I thought Nathan would change after that. If anything has changed, it's the frequency of his violence. It's gotten worse over the past few months, and I'm getting the urge to reopen that wound on my wrist…except this time I'll make sure no one will be around to stop me.
After my tears are done falling and my breathing returns to normal, I stand up and slowly make my way back to the house. It feels like I'm walking into a black hole that is slowly sucking the life out of me, but now I have a little glimmer of hope shining through the darkness. I just hope my father listens to me this time and helps me when I need him the most.
Saving Avery Page 5
