Page 1 of The Bones We Break
“You stupid fucking bitch!”
My head bounces off the marble kitchen countertop like a pinball bouncing around a machine. I can already feel the warm, crimson liquid pouring down the side of my face from the deep gash on my forehead as it begins to run into my eyes and blurs my vision for a split second. I lose all my senses for a moment as dizziness takes over my body and I feel myself falling to the cold, hard floor of our family kitchen. I can’t believe Ricky would do this to me again, actually who am I kidding except for myself? This isn’t the first time my husband has taken his anger and violence out on my fragile mind and body, but I’m not sure if I have the willpower to make it a final time.
“Ricky please, don’t do this again.” I croak, my face throbbing and my throat sore like I’m swallowing a pack of razor blades.Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad way to go. I can’t think like that, I need to get away from this personal version of hell.
“I saw how that fucking prick across the street looked at you today, you thought I wouldn’t notice? Hm, how his eyes raked all over you?” James, our neighbour across the street, is a happily married man with children. I’ve had brief conversations with him and his wife, but Ricky seems to think and believe thatI want this man that isn’t my husband.
“It’s not like that, you know it’s not! I’m married to you, Ricky. Why can’t you believe me?” My pleas seem to land on deaf ears as Ricky fists the back of my hair, pulling at the roots, and dragging me up to face him, to face this monster I let into my life. The wound on my head is still flowing freely, like a calm stream as the copper liquid runs into my mouth, filling the crevices in between my teeth like a cement. His warm breath fans my face as he pulls me closer.
“Look what you made me do to you, baby. You make me so angry and I take my actions out on you, but this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t spoken to him, would it?” His voice is low and filled with malice. The vice grip Ricky has on the back of my head is almost becoming numb, and I welcome it.
Before I even have a chance to plead my case, I’m being dragged head first into the living room, the white and grey interior becoming a blur as my vision spins, then my hands meet the plush grey carpet, the fibres peeking their way through my fingers. I try to grip hold of it, almost like a lifeline, but that too is suddenly ripped away from me. A dark, red stain is starting to bloom on the pristine carpet, like a spilled bottle of red wine.He’ll be so mad at me for that.Even though my brain is screaming that it isn’t my fault.
Ricky grips the back of my sweater, like how a dog would grab their pups by the scruff of the neck, except I’m not being carried to safety, or feeling the warmth of a mothers touch. I’m being pushed face first into the couch by the hands of an evil man who was supposed to love and cherish me, till death do us part. But even in death, I probably won’t escape him.
The familiar sound of his expensive designer belt unclasping, the one I chose for him, sends a rush of panic through my entire being. His voice that’s so calm and collected shakes me out ofmy stupor.
“You belong to me, don’t you Annabelle? I’m your fucking husband.” I feel his smooth hands that have caused so much damage run up the back of my exposed calves, bunching up my skirt. “Answer me, wife!” A sob escapes my mouth, as a string of rose tinted saliva lands on the soft, cream cushion of the couch.
“Yes. Yes I belong to you.” I whisper.
I feel the cold air graze past the back of my thighs as Ricky pursues with his ascent of my skirt. I try my best to take my mind elsewhere, somewhere safe, maybe another life instead of this purgatory that I’m living in. Ricky’s face comes into my periphery and I squeeze my eyes shut, using the childhood memory of “if I can’t see you, you can’t see me”.
“You’re making a mess of our couch baby but it’s okay, you know I love you right?” He coos, as if that will soften the blow that’s about to come. This isn’t love. I’ve never been in love, but I know this isn’t what love is. This is cruel and tormenting. Surely death is more loving than this. There’s no warning signs when Ricky rips into me from behind, it’s brutal and battering. The pain is excruciating every time and there’s nothing I can do to stop the abuse and torment that Ricky forces onto me. My hands fist into the plush cushion, turning my knuckles a ghostly white shade. If I grip any tighter I’m pretty sure my bones will split through my skin.
Ricky pounds violently into the back of me, tearing my inner walls, bruising my hips. The slapping and breathless sounds coming from his lips are the soundtrack to my life, like a record stuck on repeat. His sinister voice brings me back to the present and I wish it hadn’t.
“Let me hear you cry, you fucking desperate whore.” I try with everything I have to keep the noises I wish to expel inside. I refuse to give him my voice, but I know it will only make thingsworse, I know my husband will not take my silence kindly. So I cry. I cry for myself. I cry for the life I wish I had. I cry for my younger self, who I wish so deeply I could protect from this life. I cry until my tears run dry and leave clear rivulets through my blood stained face.
I close my eyes for just a moment before I feel Ricky’s hand feed through the strands of my bleached, blonde hair. I don’t think my hair follicles have the strength to hold on anymore either as my head is yanked back with such force that I feel my jaw and neck crack simultaneously, sending my eyes rolling into the back of my head. Ricky stills inside of me for just a second, keeping his grip tight on the back of my head. He then begins to run his warm tongue up the side of my face, tracing a path through the dried, cracked blood that masks my skin. Once he reaches my ear, he takes the soft lobe between his pearly white teeth and I recoil away from his touch.
I love my husband, I love my husband, I love my husband.
I repeat the mantra in my head, hoping that I’ll start to believe it. Ricky’s voice is soft and slow when it hits my ear drum. “Redreallyis your colour, my love.”
I’m only given a moment of reprieve before my face is slammed back into the cushion, but his grip doesn’t leave the back of my head, instead he pushes. He pushes to the point that I think I might die. The oxygen that tries to make its way into my lungs is instantly cut off and I panic as my hands flail around, trying to grab a hold of something, anything that could be a lifeline, but my husband doesn’t stop. Every aspect of my life flashes before my closed lids, my vision turning into a kaleidoscope of colours. Maybe if I accept my fate, death will take me peacefully but unfortunately I’m not granted that wish as Ricky brings me back into the now. The pain between my thighs is all consuming as I feel him rip out of me, causingme to wince and grind my molars together until they feel like crumbling dust.
He degrades me by finishing on the backs of my thighs and ass. I feel the warm, sticky liquid run down to the crease behind my knees and gather like a shallow puddle. I’m gasping for air, my lungs burning from the strain. I’m frozen in time, my violated body exposed to him in every intimate way. Hearing the tell-tale sign of him shoving his crisp, white shirt back into his navy blue dress pants then fastening the metal clasp on his belt brings me back to the present.
“Clean yourself up. I won’t have my wife in such a state and whilst you’re at it, find something to get that stain out of the carpets and couch. I’m paying good money for this house and I won’t have it ruined, it’s the least you can do.”
I wait, only for a moment until Ricky leaves and I break.
“I need a sugar daddy, or just someone that’s willing to pay my bills instead of this shitty job.” I tell my best friend, Ellie, over the phone, complaining about my dead end job. I’ve been working for Franklin and Co, a prestigious law firm for the wealthiest, for the past four years and I’m fully convinced I’m just here as a pretty face and a great pair of tits. That’s what I’ve heard anyway.
“Ha! When you find one, make sure you get a double deal for the both of us.” Ellie’s laughter and soothing voice filters through my phone’s speaker. I met Ellie through an online book club a couple of years ago, discussing our favourite reads and our love for toe curling romance.
“Yeah well, the hotshot clients at work literally have money to burn.” I reply and smile to myself knowing we have this back and forth joke between us anytime we want to complain about our jobs. I tuck the phone in between my ear and shoulder and lock the office door behind me, making sure everything is in place, that the lights have been switched off and the alarm is set. Brandon Franklin, my boss, would have my ass if I left this place unsecured. Making my way through the office to the main elevator, I press the silver button to go down to the ground floor. The metal doors slide open after a few minutes and I step inside,the signal crackles on my phone as Ellie tries to speak.
“Don’t.. Do.. Don’t forget it’s..” her voice dips in and out before it comes back full force as the doors open.
“Ana, are you even listening?”
“Yeah, of course I am. You know there’s zero signal in that elevator!” I wave a quick goodbye to Greg at the front desk, telling him that I’ll see him on Monday as Ellie’s voice chimes back into my ear.
“Anyway, as I was saying after being rudely disrupted by your lack of signal, it’s Jake’s bar opening this weekend. Please tell me you didn’t forget?” She says with an accusatory tone. My brain freezes for a split second and I put on my best convincing voice in the hopes that she’ll believe I didn’t forget. I hope so anyway.
“What? Of course I didn’t forget. I remembered the opening.” I might as well be side-eyeing an invisible camera in my terrible attempt to hide my forgetfulness.
