Page 9 of Welcome Home
I stand, crossing my arms, making him hike a thick brow. “No, we aren’t done. No more of this running around Oliver. No more cheating, no more hateful remarks. I'm done, things need to change. Now.” The words feel like a weight off my chest, but it does nothing to soothe the acid creeping up my throat.
He laughs, the sound devoid of humor the way it always is when he directs it at me. “Okay, I'll do you one better, Cora. I want a divorce. I was going to leave all that bullshit to my lawyer, but now is as good a time as any.”
I should be shocked, hurt, but I'm…relieved. So fucking relieved. Fuck trying to make it work. Fuck the love I felt for him once. It’s gone. So far gone. “Fine.”
His eyes flash with anger as he straightens. “Fine? That’s fine with you? I bet it is Cora, easier for you to spread your cunt for whoever will have you. Fucking slut.”
Yes. I'm the slut.
“You said you wanted a divorce. I agreed. Why are you angry?” My voice comes out more accusing than I wanted to and now my hands are shaking. My breath coming in a little too quick. He rushes forward, rounding the couch before his hand captures my wrist roughly. “Stop it!”
“I don’t think you understand the gravity of your situation.” His hold on me tightens, his thumb digging into my inner wrist. “Let me explain as slowly as possible.” He jerks me ahead of him, gripping the back of my neck, wrenching my head back and forth. My neck aches under his grip, still I'm not scared. I'm fucking pissed.
“See all this Cora? All these pretty things you’ve surrounded yourself with? They belong to me. You see this house? It’s in my name. The money in our bank account? Also mine. Get the picture? You aren’t fine, far from it, actually.”
A frustrated scream that comes from deep in my chest shocks me almost as much as him. He releases me abruptly, allowing me to whirl around to face him. Standing as tall as I can despite him being a good head or two taller than me. “You can’t fucking do that.”
“Look at you, weak little doormat Cora, finally mad. It’s actually kinda hot.”
“You can’t fucking do that.”
He shrugs. “I can and I am. I'm taking every bit of it from you becauseIearned it. What did you do? Sit on your cunt all day and watch TV? Go for a run or two? Bake a pie? You have no education, no job, nothing.”
“Because of you! Because you wouldn’t let me!” I scream, shoving at his chest. His smile widens. He’s getting to me, and he knows it. I take a deep breath, walking through the kitchen to rest my hands on the edge of the sink. The cool metal presses into my flushed palms, my stupid manicure a French tip set. I never liked the way it looked. He does. A darker thought making its way up my spine. My hate for him clouding everything else.
Deep breath. He can’t do this.
I say those words out loud, even though I didn’t really mean to. The feeling of his warm hand on my back makes me sick as I jerk my shoulder away. “You shouldn’t have signed that prenup. Hindsight is 20/20. Don’t worry your little head too much, Cora. I'm sure mommy will take you back. How long has it been since you spoke to her? Four, five years really isn’t that long when you think about it.”
“You told me she hated you. That she was trying to break us up. You planted that seed when we were still in high school. My mom was right. She saw right through you.”It was just a little too late, like me.
One of the few things she never bothered talking to me about. Stay away from Oliver.
He makes a tsking sound, leaning in until his lips brush my ear. The smell of a fruity perfume fills my nose. “Butyounever picked up the phone.” My eyes sting with tears as my chest heaves. “See how badly you need me? Hownotfine you are? Your life is over.”
Rage builds in my stomach. Every remark, every push, pinch and shove I’ve endured throughout the years playing like a shitty B film in my mind as he drones on. Taunting me. It's working, each word pushing me closer to the fucking edge. “She’s pregnant, you know?”
What?
I turn to him, and the tears abruptly stop streaming down my cheeks. My knuckles white as I hold my hands together in front of me. Forcing myself to not lash out, my nails biting into my skin so hard I’m sure it’s drawing blood. I just stare at him, watching his boyish strawberry blonde hair shift as he looks up, turning his head to the side slightly. A proud smirk on his stupid face.
“Her name is Kristen. I'm finally going to be a dad. She’s going to give me everything you never could, Cora. Of course, I'll have the headache of getting the baby removed from her custody eventually. Don’t get me wrong she’s hot but not doctor's wife hot.”
When I don’t respond, he steps closer, brushing my hair out of my face. “You should touch up your roots while you still have the money to do so. It looks like shit.” With that, he turns unloading his pockets and taking off his shoes. I watch him silently, my heart racing in my chest as I turn back to the sink. My pulse whooshing in my ears is the only thing I hear before the ringing drowns out that, too.
He's a monster.
My eyes land on the dirty paring knife in the sink. The handle is still damp from where I rinsed it earlier; I don’t know the exact moment I decide to pick it up. Or the exact moment that dark suffocating thought wins out against logic. Only that when I turn towards my husband, I didn’t see him asOliver.The boy I had a crush on since I was a kid, with the kind older brother that always played with us and smiled at me in the hall. I don’t see the man I married, or the one that I gave my body to night after night. I see the monster that’s always lurked just underneath his perfect sun kissed skin. I see every lie, insult, and cruel remark.
“I hate you.”
6
Welcome Home
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My chest aches, but not in any physical sense as I carry myself up the stairs. It’s been nearly two hours since I sent her back up. That’s how long it took for me to calm myself, before I could follow without the risk of hurting her. The fact that I had to send her up here alone at all left a putrid taste in my mouth. Or maybe that was the rotted body of her former husband. I reach out, letting my hand trace the banister, wondering what it would feel like to touch it in my true skin. I pause halfway up the stairs, listening. The soft hum of music fills my ears, growing louder once I concentrate. He always hated the bands she listened to. I don’t see how anyone could hate any kind of music. I suspect that was less to do with the actual lyrics and melodies and more to do with her in general. Music, yet another thing humans take for granted. What I am…we don’t put any value in things like the arts. Sure, after this many years walking the earth, we all develop little hobbies and interests, adopt ones we hone through the lives we steal. Outside of that, my kind never worried about things like culture, spending most of our lives pretending to be things we aren’t. I suppose that makes sense.
