An Innocent Affair

XXXVII

"What are you going to do? Are you going to live in the dark, locked in here? Afraid to look out, answer the door, leave? Yes, he's out there, and he's clearly not going to leave you alone until one of three things happens: he hurts you and gets arrested, or he makes a mistake and gets arrested, or you stop him." Rachel Caine, Fall of Night

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XXXVII.

Cressie's eyes fluttered open, but her vision did not focus as quickly as it usually did in the morning.

It was morning. She could see the light leaks through the gap in her drapes. It was blurry, but she could see the light. Cressie strained her eyes, squinting, as she tried to prop herself up in her bed. The moment she lifted her head, however, she felt the true weight of it. It felt as though someone had tied three sacks of flour into her hair.

A pain, a wicked and vicious searing headache, reverberated between her temples, and Cressie audibly gasped as her hand snapped up to support her forehead.

"Oh!" she cried.

What had happened? It suddenly occurred to Cressie, in and amongst the shock and discomfort of the pain that she felt, that her memory was rather hazy. She could not remember going to bed. She could not remember dressing for bed.

After blinking a few times, her vision slowly beginning to steady, she saw that she was wearing her silk chemise, and not her nightgown. Even then, she did not remember undressing.

But she could feel the tender bruise on her temple, and a hazy memory flashed through her mind. Everett had struck her, and Cressie had fallen into her dressing table. After that, her memories were blank.

An ominous feeling momentarily consumed her at the thought of being powerless and alone with Everett, but Cressie quickly could confirm that despite his assault, he had not touched her again. After five years of marriage, she was used to the horrid feeling the morning afterward.

And then Cressie began to cry. A sob ripped through her chest uncontrollably as she suddenly realised that the hope she had had for escape had completely vanished in the blink of an eye, or the slap of a hand.

No.

Cressie fought with the bed linen and pushed it off of her, no matter how her head protested at the sudden rough movements. She couldn't seem to get her legs to work immediately, and so Cressie fell out of the bed into a crumpled heap on the floor, bringing down some of the linen with her.

She clawed at the rug, pulling herself towards the door sluggishly, the effort feeling gargantuan and yet entirely necessary. Cressie felt as though with every pull, with every movement in which she wrenched her body forward, she was fighting for her life.

When Cressie finally reached the door, she pushed up off of the floor and reached up with whatever strength she could find to secure the door handle in her hand. But as she went to turn it, it would not move. It was locked.

Cressie trembled hysterically as she collapsed onto the floor. She could not help crying, in rage and in sorrow, with her face and hands pressed into the pile of the rug. But this left her able to feel the movement in the floor as someone approached from the other side.

Her sobs quickly silenced as she recognised the proud march of Everett Delaney instantly. Cressie scrambled backwards, reaching the edge of her trunk by the time she heard a key being inserted into the lock. She heard the lock give way and the door swiftly opened as Everett pocketed the key.

His grey eyes found her instantly, and he looked upon her pitifully. "You are pathetic," he declared with a shake of his head.

Cressie sucked in a sharp breath as she glared at him, feeling all manner of hatred coursing through her veins. It felt wicked to hate a person so, but she did. She hated everything about this man. She hated what he had done to her. She hated what he had taken from her. And she hated him for what he would do in future.