Page 13 of Jacked and Jaded

Calliope pulled into Clint’s garage and shut off the engine. She was late and his car was gone. That meant he’d gone to the retirement party alone. He was not going to be happy with her when he got home. Given the way things had gone Friday morning, she thought her best course of action would be to get in there, pack some things and leave again before he got home.

From her past experiences with anything that involved the law firm he worked for, it was that they liked to party. A lot. And it could go on for hours. Secretly, she thought maybe she’d subconsciously made herself late so she’d miss this party. She checked the time on her watch and saw it was ten o’clock. The party was supposed to start at eight and he never got home before midnight from the company parties, even if it fell on a weekday. She figured she had a couple of hours to get done what she needed to get done before Clint got home.

She’d emptied her suitcase at her mom’s house so she could refill it with things she would need right away. Clothes, her jewelry-making equipment, a few photos she’d brought with her of her and her mom when she moved in. Other than that, everything else was Clint’s. On one hand, it was rather sad that she’d not really made her mark on the home Clint said to consider hers as well. On the other hand, it made it so much easier to grab her stuff and go. She thanked her lucky stars once again that she’d not let him talk her into trading her car in for something he thought she should drive.

Rummaging through her drawers, she pulled out what she wanted and left behind the sexy shear nighties Clint insisted she wear, as well as the barely-there thongs. She treated the contents of the closet the same way. Anything that would remind her of him was left behind. She rolled her suitcase to the top of the stairs then carried it down, careful not to trip herself and fall.

“Going somewhere?” Clint’s voice, deep and scary, reached out to her from the mostly dark living room.

Calliope’s eyes rounded and she screamed. Her hand landed on her chest. “Clint. You scared the crap out of me. When did you get home?” Damn it. She hadn’t heard the garage door go up. A mistake that could prove to be the worst of her life.

Clint stood in his expensively tailored black suit, looking like a model on the cover of GQ magazine. He’d always looked good in black. His tie was a deep red and his shoes were mirror polished. He’d always been an attractive man as far as looks went. It was the ugliness inside him that you didn’t know about until it was too late. His hands were in his pockets as he watched her the way a tiger watched his prey, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. He rubbed at his nose and sniffed.

“I just got home. You’d know that if you weren’t so busy packing your suitcase. Going somewhere?” His tone was deceptively calm. From past experience, she knew it was like the calm before the storm.

She couldn’t believe she missed Clint’s arrival. How could she have been so stupid? She visually checked him out to gage his mood and her heart sank. Shit. She could smell alcohol over the scent of his signature cologne from ten feet away. He took a step closer, then another, then another. Her grip tightened on her suitcase handle, praying he wouldn’t hit her. The closer he got the more she could see his eyes were bloodshot. He rubbed at his nose again and her stomach dropped. He’d been doing cocaine with his friends again.

“I was going to go stay with Mom for a while.” She could feel tremors building as she braced for the possibility that Clint wouldn’t be happy with her. “I-I’m sorry I missed your party. I hadn’t seen Mom in so long, time just got away from us.” She tried to smile, but knew it must look as forced as it felt.

“Is that right?” He stepped up until they were only a couple of feet away from each other. His face contorted into something mean and ugly about the time the back of his hand connected with her face.

She gasped, stumbling back and almost tripping over her suitcase. He picked it up and threw it across the room, knocking over a lamp. The sound of shattering glass caused her to flinch. She cupped her cheek, tears pooling in her eyes.

“It seems you and I have a problem,” he growled through clenched teeth, his hands flexing at his sides. “When I tell you to be home in time to get ready for a party, I expect you to obey.” He backhanded her again, causing her to cry out and fall to the wall. “Do you know how humiliating it was to show up at Carl’s retirement party alone? Everyone knows that we’re together and they expect you to accompany me.”

Calliope was tired of being a punching bag to this asshole. “Why didn’t you just bring one of your whores?” He was momentarily stunned. She didn’t know if it was because she dared to talk back to him or that she knew abut the other women.

“What did you say?!” he roared in her face, spittle flying onto her cheek.

She knew better but her anger was taking her over. “You heard me,” she answered, her teeth clenched. “What? You didn’t think I knew about the other women? Hell, one of them called me and told me all about your affair.” Taunting him was unwise as she soon found out.

This time, his fist connected with her cheek. She would’ve fallen if he hadn’t caught her around the throat. He kept her pinned to the wall with a tight grip, making it hard to breathe. She clawed at his hand and wrist, desperately trying to get free. He held her other hand in an odd angle between them. Black spots were forming in her vision and knew she was close to passing out. Desperate to get free, she raked her nails down his face with her free hand.

Clint roared, but released her to clutch at his face, but not before she felt her wrist snap. She was bent over trying to catch her breath, hoping she didn’t throw up, when he straightened her up and punched her in the stomach. All the air she’d just managed to suck down came rushing out on a wheeze. He let her fall to the floor then kicked her in the side, once, twice. She felt something in her side give and worried that he’d broken her ribs.

He took a knee next to her. Grabbing her hair in his hand, he smiled down at her. He looked in the direction he’d thrown her suitcase then back to her. “Think you’re going to leave me?” He didn’t really expect her to answer. “The problem with that is, I’m not done with you. You leave when I say you can leave. And you know, after tonight, I just might whore you out to my friends.” He nodded and smiled as if the idea pleased him.

Oh God, no. She had to get out of here.

The pain Calliope was in was excruciating. She’d never experienced anything like it. It took everything she had not to throw up. Her face was throbbing, her ribs kept her from taking a full breath and her wrist was pulsing with every heartbeat. Out of her good eye, the one not swelling, she could see Clint stand up. She watched him loosen his belt, and undo his pants. He pulled out his hard cock and she started to cry, dreading what was to come.

“Now, now, Calliope, you be a good little whore for me and I’ll make this quick.” He dropped to his knees and flipped her dress up. He grabbed her panties and ripped them off, jarring her injuries in the process. God, the pain. The pain was so bad. She prayed she passed out so she wouldn’t have to watch him rutting around on top of her. Unable to fight him off, she resigned herself to her fate.

He spread her legs and entered her in one hard thrust. She bit her lip to keep from screaming, knowing that was what got him off. The constant jarring from his thrusting made her injuries to her side that much more painful. Black spots danced before her eyes again, only this time, she let them take her under.

Calliope blinked her eyes,trying to clear her vision. Her left eye wouldn’t work. She tentatively reached up and touched her face. The whole right side felt swollen. She felt a cold draft on the lower half of her body and looked down the length of her body. Fuck. It all came back to her. Clint beating the shit out of her, telling her she’ll leave when he says she can leave and then he fucked her until she passed out.

She didn’t know where he was right now and didn’t really care as long as he wasn’t near her. She had to get up from the floor right now or she might never find the will to do it again. She rolled to her side, the pain in her ribs causing her to cry out. She panted through the pain until she thought she could try to move again. With her good hand she pushed herself into a sitting position next to the coffee table and almost blacked out again from the effort. Her stomach pitched and she knew she was going to be sick. she turned her head to the side, emptying everything all over his precious $10,000 rug. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, taking a deep breath and releasing it. She grit her teeth, leaned on her forearm and got to her knees. “I am fucking getting out of here,” she growled through clenched teeth. “I am not fucking passing out again.”

Once she was able to gain her feet, she began to weave until she caught herself on the wall. Seeing her purse on the entry table, she grabbed it, slung it over her head and draped it across her front. The pain from Clint’s dry entry made it difficult to walk, but she didn’t care. It didn’t matter how much pain she was in, she was getting out of there or she’d die trying. She searched her purse for her car keys and came up empty. The bastard had taken them. Now way would she find them now. Fuck it. She wasn’t going to let that stop her.

It took her what felt like forever to make her way to the front door. She shut off the alarm, unlocked the deadbolt and door lock, then miraculously got the heavy wood door open. She stepped out onto the landing, right into the pouring, cold rain. She’d laugh at her luck, but it would hurt too damn much. Determined to get out of there before Clint came looking for her again, she left the door wide open to the elements, hoping the rain blew in and warped his wood floors, the fucker.

Taking one step in front of the other, she slowly made her way down the drive. Clint’s house was a mini McMansion on a country road just outside town. He was the first to build out this way or she’d go to a neighbors and ask for a ride to Redemption. No, that wouldn’t work. They’d probably be all buddy buddy with Clint and rat her out. Stumbling down the road, she had no idea where exactly she was headed. She only knew she had to get home. Maybe she could call an Uber driver. She pulled her phone out of her purse, dialed the number and made arrangements to be picked up. She told them, she didn’t care how much it cost, she wanted to go to Redemption. Her mom was gone, but maybe she could get to Jackson. She snorted, causing herself more pain, thinking it was sad that the first person she wanted to run to was Jackson.

The Uber driver asked her where she wanted to be picked up and she told him she’d be the woman walking in the rain along the side of the road. “You can’t miss me.”

She didn’t know how much farther she made it before she collapsed. At least the pain wasn’t so bad when she was blacked out.

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