Page 2 of Until I Break

“Eliza,” Julian says.

“Yes?”

“Day or night. Call us, and we are there. Okay?” he says, gently grabbing my shoulders. “No stubbornness. We care about your well-being, so please tell us if you want out. Okay.”

“It’s not that easy,” I admit.

“Has he ever hit you?” Calder asks.

“No,” I say. “He’s just… He hasn’t hit me. I want to leave him, but it’s easier said than done.”

“We will respect your decision, but if it escalates, we won’t give you a choice but to leave,” Julian tells me.

“I get it,” I laugh. “He’s a dumbass, but not that much.”

“Good,” Julian laughs. “Go on.”

I turn to gather up my belongings and see that my call to Troy is still connected. I quickly end the call as fear rushes through me. Did he hear all of that? Fuck, what if he did? I’m fucking dead if he heard me say I wanted to leave. I won’t make it through the night if he thinks I’m fucking them.

I rush out of the office and down to my car before taking a second to breathe. I am on the verge of tears and nearly hyperventilating. I wasn’t paying attention. I could have sworn that he hung up, but I was wrong. I fucked up, and now I have to face the consequences. Troy already hates that I work for themandthis company. He despises that I am so close to them. I’ve managed to delay him making me quit, but I don’t think I can avoid it anymore.

As I drive home, dread settles in my belly, and it makes me nauseous. I fucking hate how no matter what I do, I can’t stop the panic when I know he is mad. It’s like my body knows I’m in danger. If he whips and then fucks me the way he does when I do something small, God knows what he will do to me for this.

I pull into the driveway and scurry out to run inside. He isn’t here, so maybe I can clean enough that he doesn’t get too mad. Maybe he didn’t hear me. Maybe I’m okay.

I start cleaning like my life depends on it, because I’m convinced it does. I watch the clock slowly close in on 5:15 pm, when I knowhe will be home. By the time six o’clock hits, I’m fully aware that I am freaking out. Dinner is ready, and I’m keeping it warm for him. The last thing I want to add to this is his dinner being cold. There was one time I had the flu and overslept. He was so angry at me for not having dinner ready.

A few minutes after seven, the front door opens. I hold my breath in anticipation as I try to act normally and make his plate of food. I hear him stop at the kitchen door, but I don’t dare turn around to see if he is watching me. After a few seconds, his footsteps continue on to the bedroom. By the time I’m setting his plate of food and glass of whiskey on the table, he appears in the dining room.

“Hey,” I say as sweetly as I can.

“House looks nice,” he says simply as he sits down.

“I got out of work early, so I thought I’d catch up,” I say nervously.

“Why’d you get out of work early?” Troy casually takes a bite of his food, and I don’t relax until he takes another bite, telling me that I didn’t fuck his dinner up too.

“Julian and Calder go to the main club on Friday evenings for a class they lead. They just told me to enjoy my weekend and said I could leave,” I say carefully. It’s not a lie. That is what they said.

“Hmm,” Troy grunts, taking a hearty sip of whiskey.

“How was work?” I ask.

“It’s amazing how you can look me in the eye and lie without even hesitating,” he remarks.

“I haven’t lied.”

“Oh?” he asks, setting his fork down.

“Troy, I—”

“You what?” he screams, suddenly slinging his plate at the wall. Food and glass hit the hardwood floor, and I let out a squeak as I jump up and back away. “How long?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I say tearfully. His face is bright red, and it’s clear that he was drinking before he came home. Hearing my lie has him launching himself at me. He grabs me by the throat and squeezes as he slams my body back against the wall. “Troy!”

“You fucking liar!” he screams in my face. “You want to leave me?! No one fucking leaves me.”

“You’re hurting me. Troy, please,” I whimper.

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