Society's Expectations & Too Many Complications {Finalist}

Chapter 25

Josephine's POV

A year and a half ago

My husband came into the room suddenly and angrily, as he was wont to do these days. Kicking a chair, I jumped violently, hating how I was so afraid of him. Weak, I thought. You are weak.

"W-what's wrong, Zachariah?" I asked him, my voice quavering like the craven I was. He didn't like that. He never liked it when I was unsure of myself, or afraid. Rosalia would never be like that, he would yell at me. You're pathetic, some stupid little girl.

"Nothing that your stupid little mind could understand," he spat at me, his blue eyes narrowing in hatred. Once I had thought their blue eyes were enchanting, their dark expanses a seductive pull of glory. Now, I was just afraid.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, my breath becoming hitched.

"Speak up, woman!" he yelled at me, marching over to me. "I can't hear a damn thing you say!"

"I said I was sorry," I spoke up, trying to stop my arms from trembling.

"Your apologies don't do a damn for me," Zachariah replied savagely, standing closer to me now. "They didn't do a damn when you said them to me, when you decided to get knocked up with the brat."

"It- it wasn't my faul-" I tried to reply, but saw my mistake as soon as his arm slammed down upon mine, his harsh fingers encircling my thin wrist.

"Wasn't your fault?" he snapped at me, wringing my arm violently. "You decided to act like some little whore, thought you could play me a fool then you think it's not your fault?!"

His other hand came to my cheek, slapping it a crimson red as it always did. The blow stung my cheek and I gasped, bringing my hand up to it. It felt hot to the touch. Tears blurred my vision, until another slap sharpened it again.

"Weak," he spat at me. "Weak little thing you are, crying all the time. I told you, I don't like it when you cry."

"I... I am so sorry," I stammered out, trying to hold the tears in. Instinctively, my hand went to cradle my growing stomach. Calm yourself, I commanded myself. Think of the child.

You will have a beautiful child, I thought. A beautiful child who can calm you and soothe you. A child that Zachariah might even love. Maybe it will calm Zach into a better temper, maybe-

"Answer me!" The words and his nails digging into my palm alerted me to reality. In a kind of detached sense, I watched as his nails drew blood.

"I... please!" I begged, as the pain set in. "Please, Zach, stop it!"

"Stop it?" he laughed, throwing me to the ground. I tumbled from my chair with a cry. The fall sent thrills of pain everywhere as old and new bruises made themselves known. I had to turn, to not hurt the baby, but I only made it to my side before the ground hit.

"Why should I stop it, you little whore?" he taunted me, looking down at me with hatred. "Are you going to beg me, little Josie? Beg for the brat?"

"Zach..." I pleaded him, raising one hand to him for mercy. "I'm wrong, I know, I shouldn't have been rude- please just stop now."

"You know what rudeness requires?" he whispered to me, his low voice more deadly than when he shouted. "It requires punishment."

My stomach turned at the thought of it. "No, please-"

My begging was cut short, as my arm was smashed to the ground, a scream ringing through the air. A kick hit me right in the stomach, and I screamed and screamed, as I felt a lurch inside my stomach, no, not the baby-