Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
“You could never be an embarrassment.”
“To him, I was. I got my house, all right. One he picked. Huge, ostentatious. Cold. He had it decorated and refused to let me touch it. I had to drive an expensive car. Dress a certain way. I wasn’t allowed to even think about my dreams anymore. Everything was about him and his career. I got pregnant because he decided it was good for his image.” She sighed, rubbing her hand over her eyes. “That wasn’t what he told me, of course, but it slipped later. He got me drunk, and we had sex without a condom. I was shocked to find out I was pregnant. He was smug. Later, I found out why, and I was furious. Not,” she explained quickly, “that I was pregnant. I was thrilled. But the way he did it.”
“I can understand that.”
“We grew apart—especially him. Other than for his image, he wanted nothing to do with Abby. And little to do with me. I was trapped in a marriage with someone whose favorite thing to do was tell me all the ways I disappointed him.”
“Bastard.”
“Yes. And as I found out, he simply enjoyed being mean. Nothing was ever his fault. Everyone around him was treated better at work. He had to work twice as hard to get half the recognition. He complained all the time. Chastised me every chance he got.” She paused. “And slept with a lot of other women. When I found out, he informed me it was my fault. If I was the wife he expected and deserved, he wouldn’t have to look elsewhere.”
“Bullshit. You know he was full of it, right? The term narcissist comes to mind. He would tear you down to make himself feel superior.”
She laughed, the sound bitter. “He did it well. He had broken me down for years, constantly belittling me, chipping away at my confidence. Taking away my choices. He was first in everything. But he made one mistake.”
“Which was?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. I wanted to go find this bastard and beat the shit out of him.
“He made me a mother. Suddenly, I had someone to care for. A little baby I had to protect—one I loved more than anything in the world. I started questioning him. His motives. His thoughts. I hated the pristine, colorless world he forced us to live in. The cold house. The perfect image. He was horrified if he came home and Abby was fussy or messy. He even hated that I called her Abby, not Abigail, which he insisted she be referred to as.” She shook her head. “She was too little and sweet for that big name. I called her Abby when he wasn’t around. I’d make up songs with her name in them, and she loved them.”
She was quiet for a moment, looking thoughtful. “He picked on me all the time. If the house wasn’t in perfect order. If I didn’t look as if I walked off a runway. But I started fighting back. Arguing with him. Still, he had the upper hand. Everything I had was his. I had no money, no job, no experience. Not even a credit card of my own. I knew if I left, he would find me and bring me back. So, I fought to give Abby a normal life. It was as if I lived two separate lives. During the day, we dressed the way we liked. Went places. Had fun. When he was around, we were shadows. Always perfect.”
She stopped, gripping the worktable.
“Did he hit you, Quinn?” I asked, my voice tight.
“No, he used words. They didn’t leave marks.” She met my worried gaze. “They only leave scars.”
I knew what she meant. Unable to take the distance between us, I crossed the room, gathering her hands in mine. “What gave you the courage to walk?”
“Abby. I was tired of watching her light fade when he was around. She was only four and acted like an adult. I didn’t want that for her. He ignored us unless it was to yell or demand one of his stupid outings. We’d have to dress up and act like a happy family. There was an event he insisted we go to. Abby wasn’t feeling well, but he refused to listen. She wasn’t herself—listless and refusing to do as he demanded. We ended up leaving, and when he got home later, he ranted for hours. I told him I was done and wanted a divorce. He refused and we argued. He grabbed me and shook me really hard while yelling. He left bruises because he was holding me so tight and he shook me so roughly I had a headache for hours. It frightened me and I wondered how long until he lost his temper with Abby. How defenseless she would be if he shook her.” She swallowed, her voice shaky. “I couldn’t take that chance.”