Cats In the Cradle

37. Emma

He carried me inside our house, not saying a word. Not offering me any comfort, despite my loud, ugly, agonized wailing. It hit me hard after the shock wore off. It felt like a horrible, horrible dream.

He walked us in the house and slammed the doors, then turned all the locks. Then he walked us straight to the master bedroom. His whole body was trembling, and his jaw was set tightly.

But he was just angry at Orion. He was just upset that he'd hurt me. He was just too angry to offer me comfort right now.

We could lay down and he'd wrap the covers around us, then he'd hold me and—

"What the FUCK, Emma?!" He screamed as soon as our bedroom door was closed. He backed me up against the wall menacingly, his hand curled around my throat.

"What the FUCK AM I FUCKING DOING trying to help you escape, when you're just going to go ahead and fucking RUN STRAIGHT TO HIM. I TOLD you to stay home and stay in the fucking house." His hand tightened a little.

"I didn't even WANT to fucking leave you this morning, but I need to be able to access the computers so we can get the FUCK OUT OF HERE before you get pregnant! And I THOUGHT YOU WOULD FUCKING LISTEN TO ME WHEN I TOLD YOU NOT TO GO OUTSIDE."

He was screaming directly in my face, spit flying into my eyes, with one arm placed on the side of my head and one hand wrapped around my throat, just barely squeezing.

But still terrifying.

His chest was heaving angrily, as if he was barely restraining himself from actually strangling me.

"Maybe I should just go ahead and brand you right now, love. Would you like that? So the next fucking time you decide to be a stupid fucking bitch and wander off, someone will know to return you to your owner.

"Or did you want him to fuck you? You wanted The Great Prophet Orion to share his "Pure Light" with you, right? Are you disappointed that we never went to that community ceremony after our fake wedding? Did you want to experience getting railed by two men at the same time? One cock just wasn't enough, huh?" He scoffed.

"Sweet, innocent Emma. But, no. You're a little freak, aren't you?"

I wasn't sure what a freak was, but it didn't sound good.

I was completely stunned, suddenly unable to recognize the man before me. He'd never ever raised his voice at me. He'd never been truly angry with me before. Maybe annoyed sometimes, maybe a little moody. But never angry. Never like this.

This wasn't him. This couldn't be him.

He was a good man.

"No. No! I know I shouldn't have left. I'm-I'm so, so s-sorry. I-I just wanted to make—" I struggled to get my words out, still choking down my sobs.

"No. Just stop. Just shut the fuck up. I-I can't even fucking think straight right now. I need to clear my fucking head and try to...unsee what I just fucking saw."

His voice was sharp and jagged and lower than normal, his tone angry and bitter.

Nothing like I'd ever heard from him before, when he spoke to me. He was always so gentle.

Because he was a good man. He was.

"I'm going out. I need to handle this. If you try to follow me or leave this goddamn house without my permission ever again, I'm going to beat the shit out of you. And then things are going to get very, very ugly between us. Do not fucking move."

He backed away from me, still breathing raggedly, his fists clenched. And then he suddenly swung a fist back and punched a hole in the wall by the door.

I was completely frozen, too petrified to move from my place against the wall, too afraid to even breathe.

He suddenly seemed too tall...and too strong. His handsome face was twisted into an unrecognizable mask of pure hatred and fury. His beautiful hands seemed too big, capable of inflicting so much hurt and irreparable damage.

Capable of doing to me what I was now positive every other man in this community did to their wives behind closed doors.

But Daniel wouldn't. He couldn't. He'd never.

He was such a good, kindhearted, loving man.

He'd never.

I repeated that to myself over and over, still frozen against the wall long after he stormed away and slammed the front door behind him.

I repeated that to myself when my weak, bruised legs finally gave out. When I curled into a ball on the floor. When I coated the floor in my snot and tears and anguish. When my heart ached more than my abused body parts. When I eventually fell asleep on the cold ground, unable to convince myself that this day had ever happened.

Because how could any of it be real?

It didn't make any sense.

Because Daniel was a good man. He was kind and he was good. He protected me. He wouldn't ever hurt me.

Not physically, at least.

He would never.

Right?

It had to still be true.

I couldn't allow myself to think otherwise.

Because there was no going back for me.

Because my heart was screaming louder than Daniel had just screamed at me. Hurting more than any physical injury or brutal assault ever could.

I knew what that strange, overwhelming feeling in my chest was. I'd known it for a while.

And my mind was screaming at me too. But I didn't want to hear what it was trying to tell me.

Because it was telling me that I was stupid.

Because I was hopelessly, madly, stupidly, head-over-heels in love with Daniel.

And he broke me.