it,
bitch, or I’ll snap your neck and then shove it down your throat while your
heart still beats.”
Trying not
to choke, I swallowed what was in my throat, some of the pieces scratching as
they went. It took a few swallows to get it down, but I finally managed. Then,
I chewed what was in my mouth. He didn’t give me any slack to chew, so I had to
grind the bits of food against my teeth with my tongue to get it small enough
to swallow. And worse, I could only breathe through my nose which meant I could
smell. And taste. To say that it was a struggle to keep from puking was like
saying that it was warm in Death Valley. A total
understatement.
When he
was satisfied that I’d swallowed enough of the vile stuff, he let go of my
mouth and jaw. Just as I began to relax a little, he put a hand on the back of
my head and shoved my face down onto the table hard enough to rattle my teeth
and blur my vision. I’d managed to turn my head slightly to the left, making my
cheek cushion the blow and avoiding a certain broken nose. I had not been able
to keep from biting the inside of my jaw, however. The metallic taste of the
blood was welcoming, as it masked the putrid taste of rotten dog food.
He leaned
down and spoke directly into my ear loudly. “If you ever, ever, lie to me
again, I’ll bring your family here and make you watch as I slowly kill them. Do
you understand me?”
I tried to
nod, but his hand had my face pinned tightly against the table, so instead I
said, “Yes,” in a weak and defeated voice.
He let go
of my head and stomped back downstairs. To the sound of his fading footsteps, I
vomited. I threw up all the dog food, spilling it onto the kitchen floor. When
I saw the maggots writhing around in it, I vomited again.
Using the
back of my hand and the tail of my shirt, I wiped my face and mouth free of as
much of the gross stuff as I could. Still, I could smell it. To expel as much
of the smell as I could, I blew my nose into the tail of my shirt. It helped,
but I still ended up breathing through only my mouth for the rest of the day.
Also for
the rest of the day, I didn’t speak to Ron or look at him. He didn’t speak to
me either.
When he
finally allowed me to use the restroom, I saw myself in the mirror. I had bits
of dog food in my hair. My face was bruised on the right side, where he’d
slammed it against the table.
I didn’t
give a damn what he said. I stayed in the bathroom until I’d cleaned myself up
a bit.
I brushed my
teeth twice. I ran the sink full of icy water and plunged my face into it. I
considered leaving it there and drawing a deep breath. It shouldn’t take long
to drown. The only problem would be my body working against me, fighting for
life. I wasn’t sure I could overcome the will to live. And as Mason popped
forward in my mind, I knew I couldn’t. His adorable little face was enough to
make me pull my face from the sink and suck in a deep breath of air instead of
water.
So what?
What was the worst thing that had happened to me really? He’d shoved rotten dog
food down my throat? Left me hungry in the basement? Left me without water for
days? Made me piss the bed? Hacked up the body of a woman he’d killed only feet
from me? Gave me a slap and some bruises? That wasn’t so bad. I could handle
that. I had to. For Mason. And Wade.
I walked
out of the bathroom with my head held high, though I still wasn’t in the mood
to talk to Ron.
He seemed
to have forgiven me. He talked to me as though nothing had happened. He made
our dinner, and we ate as usual. We had drinks after dinner while playing
cards. I said little to him, but he made more than enough conversation all by
himself.
Shortly
after we’d finished dinner, I began to feel groggy. It became a battle to keep
my eyes open. I’d only had two drinks, so I knew that wasn’t the problem. When
the cards became blurry, I put my hand on the table and rested my head on it,
thinking I’d just lay there for a minute until
bitch, or I’ll snap your neck and then shove it down your throat while your
heart still beats.”
Trying not
to choke, I swallowed what was in my throat, some of the pieces scratching as
they went. It took a few swallows to get it down, but I finally managed. Then,
I chewed what was in my mouth. He didn’t give me any slack to chew, so I had to
grind the bits of food against my teeth with my tongue to get it small enough
to swallow. And worse, I could only breathe through my nose which meant I could
smell. And taste. To say that it was a struggle to keep from puking was like
saying that it was warm in Death Valley. A total
understatement.
When he
was satisfied that I’d swallowed enough of the vile stuff, he let go of my
mouth and jaw. Just as I began to relax a little, he put a hand on the back of
my head and shoved my face down onto the table hard enough to rattle my teeth
and blur my vision. I’d managed to turn my head slightly to the left, making my
cheek cushion the blow and avoiding a certain broken nose. I had not been able
to keep from biting the inside of my jaw, however. The metallic taste of the
blood was welcoming, as it masked the putrid taste of rotten dog food.
He leaned
down and spoke directly into my ear loudly. “If you ever, ever, lie to me
again, I’ll bring your family here and make you watch as I slowly kill them. Do
you understand me?”
I tried to
nod, but his hand had my face pinned tightly against the table, so instead I
said, “Yes,” in a weak and defeated voice.
He let go
of my head and stomped back downstairs. To the sound of his fading footsteps, I
vomited. I threw up all the dog food, spilling it onto the kitchen floor. When
I saw the maggots writhing around in it, I vomited again.
Using the
back of my hand and the tail of my shirt, I wiped my face and mouth free of as
much of the gross stuff as I could. Still, I could smell it. To expel as much
of the smell as I could, I blew my nose into the tail of my shirt. It helped,
but I still ended up breathing through only my mouth for the rest of the day.
Also for
the rest of the day, I didn’t speak to Ron or look at him. He didn’t speak to
me either.
When he
finally allowed me to use the restroom, I saw myself in the mirror. I had bits
of dog food in my hair. My face was bruised on the right side, where he’d
slammed it against the table.
I didn’t
give a damn what he said. I stayed in the bathroom until I’d cleaned myself up
a bit.
I brushed my
teeth twice. I ran the sink full of icy water and plunged my face into it. I
considered leaving it there and drawing a deep breath. It shouldn’t take long
to drown. The only problem would be my body working against me, fighting for
life. I wasn’t sure I could overcome the will to live. And as Mason popped
forward in my mind, I knew I couldn’t. His adorable little face was enough to
make me pull my face from the sink and suck in a deep breath of air instead of
water.
So what?
What was the worst thing that had happened to me really? He’d shoved rotten dog
food down my throat? Left me hungry in the basement? Left me without water for
days? Made me piss the bed? Hacked up the body of a woman he’d killed only feet
from me? Gave me a slap and some bruises? That wasn’t so bad. I could handle
that. I had to. For Mason. And Wade.
I walked
out of the bathroom with my head held high, though I still wasn’t in the mood
to talk to Ron.
He seemed
to have forgiven me. He talked to me as though nothing had happened. He made
our dinner, and we ate as usual. We had drinks after dinner while playing
cards. I said little to him, but he made more than enough conversation all by
himself.
Shortly
after we’d finished dinner, I began to feel groggy. It became a battle to keep
my eyes open. I’d only had two drinks, so I knew that wasn’t the problem. When
the cards became blurry, I put my hand on the table and rested my head on it,
thinking I’d just lay there for a minute until
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