Page 2 of Broken Surrender
It had been minutes since I had taken it, but he was obsessed with checking how the different medications affected me. It was part of being married to the owner and CEO of a pharmaceutical company.
“No nausea,” I said.
“Don’t forget to take it every day. It requires your commitment.”
“Thank you for reminding me.”You piece of shit.
I didn’t touch the rest of the meal. John put a large wad of hundred-dollar bills under his plate for me, and I stuffed three bills in my pocket, bringing the rest to the kitchen, hiding the money under my arms as I headed toward the washroom.
“Mrs. Dalton,” my favorite housekeeper, Gillian, said. I lifted my eyes for a moment, smiling at her, then carried on my way. “Was the bathroom acceptable?”
I furrowed my brows, then I remembered. I had asked her to decorate it with tea light candles and luxury soaps for a hot bath. Gillian always wanted more work, and if we didn’t have any tasks for her or the rest of the staff, they were dismissed early, and they weren’t paid. I never took the bath.
“Wonderful. Thank you,” I said. I went past her into the washroom, made sure the door was locked behind me, then went to her cubby above the dryer. I opened up her wallet, stuffing the money inside. She was always kind and polite, even with John. She reminded me of the smoothie shop, how I had to be nice to customers, even when some of them took out their anger on me.
So I wanted to help her. To show that I appreciated her, even if John didn’t.
But maybe that was selfish of me. Maybe the money made her believe she was obligated to stick around.
But at least she had the freedom to leave whenever she wanted.
I kept my head bowed as I went to the bathroom and filled a cup with tap water. My morning pill bottles sat nestled in the top row of the medicine cabinet. Half of the second row to be taken at lunch, the rest of the bottles to be taken with dinner. Each bottle was an army of commanders telling me what to do, how to behave, as I choked them down with a large glass of water.
I closed the cabinet, the plastic bodies in my hand. In the mirror, a light purple half-circle tainted the bottom of my eye, like target practice, beckoning for another punch.
I had sworn I would never let this happen again. It was one of the reasons I had agreed to an arranged marriage through the Marked Blooms Syndicate in the first place.
The pills clattered to the floor.No.I wasn’t going to do this anymore.
I shoved my finger into my mouth, jabbing at the wet tissue until finally, the compulsions twisted through me. The toilet seat banged open and I wretched, the back of my throat burning, but nothing came out. Again, I stabbed myself, until I grabbed a sealed toothbrush from the back of the cabinet, penetrating until all of it came up, the bees drowning in yellow bile.
I flushed the toilet and rinsed my mouth, then stood up, staring at the shelves full of those orange and white bottles. Any need or complaint or worry that I had, John had a pill for that. I had been on antidepressants for a while before I left Oakmont, and they had helped me, but this? My husband kept finding new and better pills until I shut up. And for so long, it had been easier to say ‘yes.’ To endure. To let it wash over me. To let the vacancy become my reality.
But I couldn’t take it anymore.I wouldn’t.
I swung a hand across the top shelf, the bottles rattling in the sink in a satisfying crash. Then the second shelf. The third. I ripped off the cap of one and sprinkled the pills in the toilet. One by one, the shimmering colors like smoothed sea glass at the bottom of a tide pool. I used to think the pills resembled gems, but now, they were shards of glass: smooth and pretty, making you forget how they could rip you apart.
“Mrs. Dalton?” Gillian called. “Are you all right in there?”
My skin heated at the intrusion. But she hadn’t seen me do anything. And if anyone would keep my secret, it was Gillian.
“I’m fine, thank you,” I said.
I flushed the pills until they were all gone. Until there were empty bottles, and nothing more. Power surged through me. After months of dreaming about it. I had finally rebelled.
Then those empty bottles glared back at me. My heart stopped.
John would notice, wouldn’t he?
What had I done?
I flexed my fingers, letting them pulse at my sides. Johnwouldnotice. I had to figure something out. Had to cover it up, so that he still thought I was being good. That I deserved this life.
Making up an excuse for my driver about why I wanted to go alone, I drove myself through Opulent Gates. Despite the name of the community, there were no gates, but hidden security amongst sprawling houses that stretched out over lush green fields. The landscapers constantly roamed to make sure that every stray blade of grass was accounted for. Even the community manager never let a light bulb in a lamppost stay dark for more than a few minutes. The occasional mother walked her child in an elegant pram along the sidewalk, wiping her forehead with a white handkerchief, surveying her surroundings to make sure no one had seen her sweat. I was never going to be like them. I rarely went outside. It was safer indoors, where I knew what to expect.
Still, I had to go out if I wanted to lie to John. I drove downtown to The Vitamin Boutique. It killed me to shop in a place like this. Growing up in Oakmont, I had always dreamed of living in a city like Fairview, where everything happened and the rich people lived in exclusive communities where everyone was wealthy and kind, like Opulent Gates. But who pays hundreds of dollars for a vial of vitamins thatclaimsto help your health, but isn’t actually scientifically proven?
People likeme.
