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The Falling

Summary:
In the action itself, she is weightless and free. The flight is not to be feared, only the impact. A story on the life of Esme Cullen. Image Hosted by ImageShack.us Banner By incredible Iris!

Notes:
I may submit this to the official site. What do you think?

44. Chapter 44

Rating 5/5   Word Count 544   Review this Chapter

It stands in dark and dingy reality,

It began with a crash and a boom. Truly, that is how that first terrible night is in my memory. Like a shove, or a gunshot.

The sort of thing that ought to be terrible, but brief. It’s supposed to end.

I didn’t.

I awoke the first morning to find him staring at me. That was the first sensation. The second was the brutal pain in my legs, the fierce ache in stomach and face where I’d been manhandled.

Maybe… I pray… maybe I can hope it was a one time thing.

I can’t.

The first thing he does is kick me in the ribs. “Get up. It’s eleven already.”

I struggle to my feet, my aching abused legs protesting. I am already afraid.

“Rules, woman. These are the rules. You live in my house, you are my wife, you follow my rules. Is that understood?”

“What are the rules?” I ask, some defiance edging into my tone. He may slap me around, but he’s my tool, not the other way around.

His fist strikes my gut instantly. I gasp for breath. “First, don’t talk unless I ask you a question. Understand?”

“Yes.” I understand. I do not agree. I am in no way subservient or answerable to you. You have no right to command me. But I understand your apparent insanity. That much is true.

“Second, you do as I say, always.”

I nod.

“Third, you don’t leave the house without my permission.”

I nod again. Stupid. Can he really prevent me? How will he know? I am not afraid of him.

“Fourth, if I want something, I get it.”

I look down at myself, my naked body still trembling. I know what he means… and I don’t like it.

If he weren’t my husband, there’d be one word for this- Rape. But I married him “willingly”. I belong to him under every law of our society. He can do as he pleases.

“Fifth, you keep my house clean and yourself attractive. Understand?”

“Yes.”

Passive resistance. I answer as simply as possible.

“I want dinner when I get home. I’m going to work.”

He stands and leaves without a further word. The door slams emptily behind him, leaving me blessedly alone- with both my dreams and my fear.

First order of business, clothing. I am not going to walk around nude all day, that is for certain.

I find the suitcase Mother brought by a few weeks ago. In it is a full month’s supply of fresh-pressed clean dresses. Attractive, as my beloved husband commands.

What right does he have?

I am furious… and then I realize. He has every right. Man and wife… a little footnote, a valuable piece of property.

I shove the dress over my head and ignore the protest of my muscles.

I do as he says, looking for ingredients to cook with. I have no choice.

He can make me obey. But he can’t make me love him.

Oh, now the fall is so revealed and reviled…