The Silence | ✔️

2. O

When the elevator doors opened on the floor of my apartment, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was ten to nine and I'd made it back with time to spare. We didn't live far from the restaurant but because I didn't have a car, I had to walk. Which left me half n hour to get home on time. I slipped the key in the door and walked inside with an accelerated heart beat. It was never guaranteed what I would come home to and I said a quick prayer in the hopes that Desmond wouldn't be in a volatile rage.

I dropped my keys on the foyer table and glanced in the mirror on the wall, wincing at how flushed I was and what a mess my hair had become. "Desmond?" I called and walked with soft footsteps across the tiles and on to the carpet. I glanced to the right, but the living room was empty and when I turned to the left, I saw my husband standing beside the kitchen counter, watching the night below us.

"What's for dinner," he questioned, not bothering to glance at me as he ran his hand across his slicked back brass head of hair. Desmond had ten years on me and while I'd thought he was gorgeous when we met, he now appeared gross and unattractive. I'd seen too much evil to think anything else.

"Oh," I walked further in and swallowed. "I thought I could get a pizza delivered. Sorry I thought that you would have eaten. You usually do when I work late."

He turned around and fixed me with his cold blue stare. It wasn't a beautiful blue, it was ice and deprave of warmth. It caused a chill to run up my spine. "If I wanted pizza, I would have ordered the fucking thing myself."

It was then that I noticed the glass of scotch beside his hand. I inhaled and thought of what to do next. There was never any definite way to soothe or calm him when he became hostile. But I tried. I started walking towards the fridge. "Sorry," I smiled. "What would you like, I can make some—"

His hand flew out before I could grip the fridge handle and his back hand sent me stumbling backwards into the cupboards. I froze and kept still, clutching the handle to keep me upright so that I didn't sag to the floor. Sometimes it was over quicker if I just became docile. "Forget it, I'll go out to eat. But I fucking expect a meal when I've been at the office all day. Sort it the fuck out."

He threw the cup of scotch at me before he stormed out of the room. It missed but it shattered beside me and the liquid splattered my white waitress shirt. The stench was awful and I waited, barely breathing until I heard the apartment door close. And that was when I sagged in relief and began cleaning up the mess to distract me from falling apart. There was no use doing that. If I didn't clean up, that would be my fault as well.

One day. It's going to be okay one day. Hang in there Arian. Hang in there.

I'd been married to Desmond for one year. One entire year of being a human punching bag. We dated for a year before that and during that time, he was a different man entirely. We'd met when I was fresh out of culinary school. I hadn't even had a proper job at that time and the romance that we shared was a whirlwind.

It wasn't until we exchanged vows that his true nature and temper, came to the surface and life as I knew it, took a turn for the worst. My husband was one of the most respected and sought after lawyers in Fort Lauderdale. He had friends in high places. The police knew him well. To the outside, he was a charming and charismatic man. But behind closed doors his true self was saved for me.

My hands trembled as I fumbled with the broken glass. But I inhaled and chose to ignore the ache in my cheek or the hint of metallic in my mouth. I believed that I could get out of this. I believed that I could be free. But it required patience while I saved what I could from work. A small portion of my income went into a secret savings account each week. Unfortunately he would notice if too much of it went missing. So it was a slow process.