Page 12 of Cillian

“Or you'll what?” Kill me, like you do with all the other inconveniences in your life. Not that I was brave enough to do more than just think it. Especially after he got in my face, his large frame easily swallowing mine.

“Geebag means an obnoxious woman. And I’ll tell you once. I spent three years behind bars, fighting men half my size. Men twice my size. So, one little firecracker ain't gonna scare me. Test me all you want. I ain't got no issue keeping you in line.” The look in his eyes assured me he wasn't lying.

If I didn't get in my place, there was no doubt he would put me there. I just didn't know how far he would go or how painful he would make it.

Papa swore he loved my mama, but it didn't stop him from giving her the occasional black eye or two when he claimed she wasn't acting right. So, I can't imagine what a white man, a man who didn't have a natural predator would do to me.

I don't know what I was thinking when I made a run for it, but I did know that if I didn't pull a chair or knock a small table down in my path, he would surely catch me or do something worse to me.

The closest room door I could escape to seemed like the biggest room. This was probably a mistake if it were the primary bedroom, but I didn’t have much of a choice. I’d managed to lock it just before he could use his large frame or strength to push past the door.

That didn't stop him from banging and screaming for me to open it, as I held my breath hoping he would tire himself out. “Elizabeth, if you don't open this fucking door right now?—”

“Just leave me alone!” I screamed, edging away from the door, as the fear of him knocking it off its hinges gave me little to no peace. I wish I had chosen a smaller room. This was probably the room he intended for us to explore marital relations in. Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself that I had just had to survive the night. Maybe if I gave it a few hours, he'd be too exhausted to do anything. Or at least calm enough to where I wouldn't have to fight him.

My body was in panic mode, and I was ashamed to admit my fear of him hadn’t subsided. The one relief to being stuck in here was that there was a bathroom attached to the room, with a toilet, a bathtub and a fancy sink. At least I'd have somewhere to wash my undergarments and a place to wash up. I’d been premature in my actions though, as my suitcase wasn’t with me.

There was a good chance it was upstairs because our driver had been instructed to bring it. I just had to wonder what I’d gotten myself into.

After taking the time to wash up, I'd learned there’d been preparation for my stay here. A night gown, some intimates I could change into gave me a little dignity, but I would need something out of my suitcase so to ensure my hair didn't clump up throughout the night.

It was quiet out there, but maybe with some luck, he wouldn’t be waiting by the door ready to pounce when my guard was down. Asking myself if the maintenance of my hair was worth encountering him, I reminded myself that I didn’t have a perm. That was particularly hard in the forties, as not every on trend Black hair product or tool was good for my hair. Since I didn’t relax it, I had to take extra good care of it.

Knowing I’d have to encounter Cillian sooner or later, I hoped that the quiet was an indication that he’d calmed down a bit. Instant regret coursed through every nerve of my body, as from the moment I opened the door, large pale hands successfully reached for my neck, as he physically forced me on the bed.

“Don’t you ever lock me out of my own bedroom again? Do you hear me? I said do you fucking hear me?” he screamed, as I could do nothing but fight back tears and agree to it.

When he let go, I gasped for air, noticing too late that he had taken his shirt off and was in the middle of unbuckling his pants. “What are you getting undressed for?” I asked in a panic.

“I’m about to fuck the shit out of me wife,” his tone annoyed and suggested that I had little choice in the matter.

“I can't,” I cried, as I crawled up into a ball at the edge of the bed.

“You better be shitting me. Because ain't no way my brothers married me off to someone I can't fuck.”

“They told me I wouldn't have to.” Suddenly having next to no strength or energy.

“What the fuck do you think being married is? A fucking flat mate arrangement?” he yelled back, more frustrated with me than ever.

“If it had been anyone else,” I winced, my tears welled as I watched his face contort in confusion. “They didn't tell me it was going to be you. Otherwise, I would have just run away.”

“What in the blazes are you talking about? You didn't think it was going to be me? Ya’ crazy woman.”

“I'd rather be crazy than a fucking killer. I can't even look at you without remembering all the blood you had on your face,” I screamed, as his face courted recognition, forcing him to stand as everything was starting to dawn on him.

“It was fucking you. You were the one who recanted.” He pointed accusingly.

“They told me if I did it, they would help my father. But they didn't tell me that I would be marrying you,” I cried out, terrified knowing my only refuge was the bathroom. Without hesitation, he gave chase once again, the only thing saving me was that I slammed his fingers through the door, forcing him to swear out loud and recoil.

“Three fucking years,” he screamed banging on the door panel. “Three motherfucking years. That's how much of my life you took from me.” As silence echoed for a moment and could I swear I heard him crying on the other side.

“I missed my brother coming back from the army. I became an uncle in fucking prison. I didn't even know it until just today.” His voice slightly muffled by the pitch in his voice breaking.

“I couldn't even go to my father's bloody fucking funeral. All because of fucking you.” By now, I couldn’t ignore that he was crying. I didn't even know a man like him was even capable of tears.

“I came back and it's like the whole fucking world changed around me,” he said with a slammed fist against the door a final time before telling me to go fuck myself.

The door slammed inside the room. There was no way to know if he had locked himself in or locked himself out. But what I did know is there was no way I was going to leave this bathroom. I should have just waited him out until the morning but right now I would have no choice.

---