Page 53 of Depravity

Hold on. Hold fucking on? Like I have the luxury of choice.

“I’m going to be here, waiting, doing everything I can to protect you until he rescues you.”

Somehow those words don’t give me any comfort.

“Why…?”

“Because you deserve a better fate than being Conrad Blake’s battered wife.” She hisses.

I gulp, nodding. I know that. I know I deserve better. But so far, this is the life God has given me. This is what he’s allowed to happen.

“Why didn’t he come before?” It’s a question I’ve been asking for years. Who he is, where he is. Why he abandoned us. Why he left me to grow up in that house.

She sighs. “It’s complicated. Too complicated to explain.” But she puts something into my hands.

My eyes widen as I realise what it is. The diary. My mother’s diary.

So she knows about it, about them.

For a second, I want to hold it so close, to cherish it. This book has brought me so much comfort since I found it six months ago but now, now it feels like another thing that could condemn me.

Because what will Conrad do when he finds this? Will he read it? Will he realise that I have someone coming for me, someone who actually cares?

Half of me is tempted to lob it at her head.

Is that what my husband would want me to do? Is that what a good wife would do?

My heart starts racing again, my mind starts scrambling over every scenario.

And then we both hear that sound. Footsteps.

He’s returning.

My heart suddenly races, my body freezes with sheer terror.

He’s coming back. He’s going to hurt me again.

She whispers something meant to calm me, meant to reassure, but it does nothing. If he finds her here, if he sees this diary, I don’t know what he will do.

She takes the book, pushing it between the mattress and the bed so it’s hidden.

“I’ll be back,” She says, and I don’t know if that’s a threat or a promise, but it doesn’t help.

He’s getting closer. He’s almost here.

She’s on the floor.

Still just lying there.

My nose wrinkles at the acrid stench of piss.

She pissed herself?

Did she do that just to spite me, or was it to make her as unattractive as she could be in the hopes I wouldn’t fuck her?

I shake my head. Stupid little bitch will learn very quickly that I won’t be put off by inconsequential things. No, even if she shits herself, even if she smears it all over her body I’ll fuck her, I’ll use her, and then I’ll rub her face in the dirty sheets like a dog.

Around her neck, I can see the livid bruising where the chain strangled her.

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