Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 134531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
I heard him kissing Vi goodbye, and then the door closed.
My breath caught as I realized I wasn’t in that house. That I was standing in the middle of a lovely, Spanish inspired cottage in New Mexico with the man I loved in front of me, damn near shaking from fury.
I’d been talking for a long time. It took a long time to split yourself apart, separate all the ugly pieces and shine light on them, didn’t it?
But I’d expected Swiss to interject at some point. Maybe to jump in and save me so I didn’t have to keep going. But he hadn’t spoken. Not a peep. Not to save me from this.
“It was easy for him,” I whispered. “Exceptionally so. I barely put up a fight. I had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. And I had a nice life. What could I complain about? He didn’t hit me often. Often enough that I walked on eggshells around him. Never anywhere visible after that first day. And he never, ever touched Violet. If he had even shown an inkling of that violence toward my daughter, I would’ve gone. I would’ve fought to the death for her.”
I meant that too. Every word. For the first couple of years, I’d watched him like a hawk. Watched for the change in his eyes if Violet started crying about something, accidently spilled something. But there was no sign of his temper. He would soothe her, clean up whatever mess and be patient with his princess.
“He was a wonderful father,” I said, looking down at my feet. I felt ashamed, saying anything good about Preston in front of him. “A wonderful husband, to the rest of the world. To the public, we seemed perfect.” I shook my head. “It was easy. So fucking easy for him to break me down. Trap me. I didn’t try to leave once. Not once. Didn’t make plans. Didn’t fight back. No. I submitted to him 100 percent. I gave in. Without any kind of fight.”
Once, only once, I thought about leaving.
Violet was twelve. She wasn’t showing any signs of growing into a teenager. She loved cuddles with her parents, adored horses and still slept with her stuffed animals. She was perfect and impossibly pure. She was my whole world.
I had a few broken ribs. Not diagnosed by a doctor, but I’d come to know my body. And by then, I’d learned to hide the pain well.
Staring at my daughter doing her homework at the kitchen table, her dark brows knitted into a frown as she worked on a math problem, I envisioned her growing up. Her getting her first boyfriend, falling in love. Then I thought of a man putting his hands on her. And her staying because she might’ve somehow known that her mother stayed, even though Preston was meticulous about making sure she never saw that side of him.
I thought of my baby being trapped like I was.
And that rage from that first morning after awoke in me once more.
For my daughter.
Her dark head suddenly snapped up. “Daddy!” she cried, running toward Preston.
I hadn’t heard him come in.
He took Violet into his arms, but his cold eyes were fixed on me.
“Vi Vi, you doing your homework?” he asked in a voice that didn’t match the look he’d given me, nodding to the table.
“Yes!” she replied. “And I’m almost done. I haven’t even needed Mom’s help.”
He ruffled her hair. “Of course, you haven’t. You don’t need it. Why don’t you go finish so we can have whatever delicious dinner your lovely mother has made for us.”
He smiled at me, and I smiled back, my heart in my throat.
Violet ran to do as her father said. The man in question walked over to me, pulling me in close and kissing me on the cheek.
I didn’t stiffen at his touch. I’d learned not to do that. To respond negatively to it. Some part of me even relaxed into it. Some part of me still loved him. Because when he was loving, it felt right. Warm. Safe. And I’d imagined that everything he’d done was just a nightmare. A phase. Whatever. I imagined that we had a perfect life ahead of us.
Then he’d get angry. I’d do something wrong. And our perfect life shattered.
“Isn’t she a doll?” he murmured into my hair.
I ran my palms up and down his back, my instincts picking up on his energy. The safest thing to do was to act like everything was normal. “Absolutely. She’s the most perfect thing on this planet,” I told him, meaning every word.
Violet had gotten the best from both of us. My midnight black hair, my delicate features. Her father’s eyes. His height. The confidence in which she moved was incredible to see in a young girl. She lived in her skin in a way even I didn’t.