Shattered

•Seventeen•

THEN

Sitting on the floor of the attic, with the Polaroids spread out in front of me, I picked one up and gently dragged a finger over the image of Tom smiling for me. He loved to make strange faces and I had finally taken one of a natural happy smile. Knowing it was because he was making me giggle made this picture extra special to me. I placed it back down and picked up another. I sighed happily at the image of his head on my stomach.

I felt a slight rumble and panicked. The garage door was going up; Jack was home. I had lost track of time, once again. I scooped up all the photographs and tossed them back into the box, locking it. I picked up a box of old books and placed it on top and then hid the key on top of a nearby beam before climbing down the ladder. As quietly as I could, I pushed the folding ladder back up, shutting the door into the ceiling. The cord swung erratically and I rested my hand steadily next to it until it no longer moved.

"Chrissy?"

I bolted to the bedroom and then the bathroom and closed the door, locking it. I knew he wasn't going to be happy with me.

I waited, knowing he'd come find me.

He knocked, startling me, even though I was prepared. "Chrissy? Can you come out?"

"One minute," I answered, trying to calm down. My nerves were shot.

He knocked again, harder. "Now, Christine!"

I unlocked the door and it flew open, nearly knocking me off my feet. I caught myself against the sink. Jack walked in, his face stern.

"Where were you?" He demanded.

I had fallen asleep at Tom's tangled in his bedsheets with his lips pressed to my forehead. I'd been so tired lately. It was purely accidental that I missed the luncheon for Jack's partnership at work. When I had woken up, the immediate sense of dread was almost unbearable. I knew I'd have to face his wrath. I didn't tell Tom. He worried about me enough as it was. Scrolling through text after text from Jack on my phone, which had been buried away in my purse, I quickly left and headed home.

I spent hours deciding what to do. I needed to figure out a way to make it acceptable. I wasn't ready to tell him the truth, but he'd find out on his own, sooner than later. I wouldn't be able to hide it much longer.

Jack and I made love for the first time in months a few weeks ago. We had to. Even though I detested his touch, I had swallowed my feelings and played the role of happy housewife, despite the bruises on my hips and shoulders. He forced me down on him, holding me by the hair. My eyes teared up as I tried to swallow back the gags.

"Please, Jack," I'd shoved him away as a sob arose, hating myself. "I want you to come in me."

"Then open your fucking mouth," he grumbled.

I shook my head, quickly wiping away a tear. "No, not like that. In me."

Realizing what I had meant, he stepped back and grabbed my arm, pulling me up to my feet. "Turn around," he had ordered me.

I bent forward, resting on the bed, letting him grab me by the hips, pulling me in place. I heard him spit on his hand before he stuck his fingers in, pumping into me twice before removing his hand, replacing it with his cock.

I had squeezed my eyes closed, feeling ashamed. He came quickly, much to my relief. Pulling out, he fell to the bed next to me, breathing heavily.

"Been a while since we've done that. Think I prefer your mouth." He had muttered under his breath.

I'd pushed myself up, feeling shaky. Without a word, I locked myself in the bathroom and turned on the shower.

Standing under the stream of hot water, I let it wash over me, choking back my sobs, tears pouring down my face.

And now, Jack was angry after weeks of me doing my best to keep him happy. With his threats constantly on my mind, I didn't just have myself to worry about.

"Well?!" Jack asked again, impatiently. "Where the fuck were you?! Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to sit at a table surrounded by my colleagues with your name place next to mine, only to not have my wife with me?!"

I stumbled over my words. I knew what I was going to say, I had been practicing it over and over, being sure to say it perfectly, in such a way that the desire to backhand me across the cheek would disappear immediately, but when he grew angry, he towered over me completely, like a bear. He was tall and slender, but he was strong. Even after months of learning to fight back, I could only do so much.

The first time I had blocked a swing and hit him in defense nearly cost me my life. I had woken up in bed, my head pounding, the area between my thighs feeling raw. I never again tried to fight back. My only defense was compliance in hopes that he'd be gentle.

Tom had threatened to kill him, many times, but then where would we be? Separated by bars. And I would be even more alone than I already was. I had no one, no where to go, no one else to turn to. Not even the law enforcement in this town could help me. Jack's firm spent a lot of money helping out with their charities. I knew, in their eyes, Jack could do no wrong. He was a dirty lawyer who helped defend dirty cops. I was shit out of luck.

I held up my hands, palms facing him. "I'm having a baby," I spat out quickly before he could raise his hand.

The tense strain between his eyebrows softened and he blinked, uncertain of what he heard. "You're... pregnant?"

"Yes."

"What? How far along?"

"Um, six weeks? Six weeks and two days." It was a lie, but I had to time it to match up. When I first went to the the doctor, I was already six weeks along. And that was three weeks ago.

Jack reached out and I flinched out of habit. He pulled me in, hugging me. "Christine, we're having a baby?" He was surprised, but at least he appeared happy.

I nodded and smiled, screaming in anguish inside, not wanting to pretend it was his.

But he'd kill me. He'd kill me, he'd kill my baby, and I had no doubt he'd kill Tom too. Not only that, but he'd get away with it.

"I missed the luncheon because I was at the doctor's office," I lied again. "I'm so sorry I missed it, I didn't mean to, it slipped my mind because I was so nervous about being pregnant and--"

"Chris, Chrissy, sweetheart," Jack shushed me. "I forgive you. Don't get worked up." He held me back by the shoulders at arm's length and studied me. "I'm so fucking happy," he beamed.

I forced a smile. "Um, the doctor mentioned I need to take it easy," I explained. This part was harder to get out. How to tell Jack he needed to cease taking his anger out on his wife without upsetting him? More lies. Anything to stroke his ego, anything to not make him appear to be anything less than amazing. "Given my medical history, I need to take it easy, no more running, no engaging in anything intense. For the baby."

"Of course, no running."

"He's a funny guy," I laughed nervously. "He noticed a bruise on my hip, which I guess I got bumping into a table, but he joked we'd have to take it easy with sex."

Jack removed his hands from me and gave me a curt smile. "Right." He scratched his temple before crossing his arms. "Your doctor's a man?"

My brows raised. "Yes. Doctor Reinhardt. He's about sixty or so."

"Oh. I'd like to come with you to your appointment next time."

A million alarms sounded in my head. I feared he'd say something like that. I couldn't let him join me or he'd know the truth, he'd know I lied about how far along I really was. He'd know.

"Oh sure."

He pulled me back into his arms. I'd deal with that bridge as I crossed it.

For now, I would do whatever it took to keep my baby safe.