Chained Wife✔️

Chapter 42

After Colton has finished removing his muddy boots at the entranceway, I enter the kitchen just as he is turning around to face me.

I can feel my pulse pounding so hard in my chest. I'm getting increasingly anxious about the possibility that he will catch me. I'm sorry, but I just can't help but think that he will hurt me once more, and we all know that wives don't run. No, no, no, I have to do this. I keep telling myself, "You can do this, you can do this," over and over again in my head.

"Did you get your chore list done Wife?" He asked me, as he made his way towards the kitchen table. His movements stir the air and I can't help but notice the fact that he is filthy and stinks of sweat and animal. I should not be surprised because he has been working outside all day in the hot sun.

One thing is certain, he puts in a lot of effort every day. This man has put forth more effort than any of my previous boyfriends have, which is fucking ridiculous but very true.

"Yes, my husband," I told hom softly.

Tonight, the last thing I need is for him to be mad with me; rather, I need him to eat his food and not want to drag me down to the basement for another lesson.

After having given him the sleeping medication, there is no way that I can allow myself to be brought down there because it would be a complete waste.

Before leaving the kitchen, he gives me a quick peck on the top of my head and then announces that he is going to "race up and take a shower."

I bring my palm up to my chest and press firmly against it, despite the fact that it hurts. I'm so terrified that he will catch me, and I'm also terrified to go back down there. The last time, he forced me to stay down there for several days. What if next times it is several weeks?

Oh shit.

Oh crap.

Okay you can do this Abby.

Take it easy, It won't be a problem; just conceal the medication in his meal and you'll be good to go. I am so thankful that they are liquid, because there is no way that I would be able to get away with just putting a hard pill into his food without him noticing it.

I open the refrigerator and retrieve the milk; that is the only beverage that we consume with our meals other than water, orange juice, and sometimes milk. At this very moment, all I want is a darn Dr. Pepper.

I really believe that my body is going through withdrawals right now.

When I checked the food a few minutes later, I discovered that it had once again been cooked to perfection. I quickly cut the pill in half using a knife while keeping an eye on the kitchen door, and then I poured the liquid over his food.

What if it tastes exactly like medicine? I really should have come up with a better strategy, like maybe mixing it into his milk.

Shit.

I hurried over to the spice cabinet and added some additional Tony's seasoning. It might be a little on the peppery side, but I'd rather have him complain about the seasoning than have him taste those pills.

I know that if I put the empty pieces of pills in the trash, there is always a chance that he will see it. That will not end well for me at all. So instead, I throw the empty pieces of pills behind the refrigerator.

After a few minutes, he walks in, and I put his plate down in front of him while my poor little heart is pounding so fast inside of my chest.

"How are you feeling? " He asks me as he searches my face with his eyes as he sits down in the chair and examines me. I can feel his eyes moving over my skin.

As I speak, I make an effort to maintain a straight expression. "Good. I'm just in pain."

"Well, you know that if you were a nice wife, then I wouldn't have to teach you those lessons. It's your fault that I'm doing what I do. If you were a decent wife, then I would not need to bring you down stairs. None of those hurtful things would have happened to you if you would listen and treat me with respect," he says as he picks up his fork and begins to eat his food. "If you would listen and respect me."

I don't say anything as I watch him take his first bite of rice and my body threatened to fall down. Please do not let him taste the sleeping pills.

"Yo"-" He hacks out some mucus, smacking his chest very hard.

What about me?

ME WHAT?

Did he taste the pill?

Oh my God.

I'm about to pass out!

I quickly grab the tabletop to hold myself up and send up a quick prayer to the heavens that he has not just tasted medicine.

"You put way too much salt on there, and it's way too peppery." He loses his temper and slams his cup of milk down on the table, causing a small amount of milk to spill out onto the surface of the table.

"I-am sorry, husband. I assure you that the next time I make this dish, I will do a much better job. In the meantime, perhaps I will watch some cooking shows." I immediately whisper to him in an effort to appease him so that he would finish his meal.

I'm relieved to hear that he didn't taste any of the medication. There's a chance that I maybe leaving this place tonight.