Russian Roulette (Russkaya Mafiya) (11 page)

I feel a tear burn as it runs down my cheek but I’m unable to speak, it’s like I blank out. I glare over at London and see she’s gone ashy and has tears streaming down her face. She knows what this is, she knows what this means. London knew. She had to. This means
he
is here. This means he has found me.

I whisper brokenly to London, “You knew.”

Avery looks really confused but comes up and hugs me. “What’s going on, girl, what’s with the flowers and why are you guys so upset?” She looks confused. She may be my friend, but this is no one’s business. She needs to go home where it’s safe for her.

“It’s nothing, Avery.” I try to avoid her question, sucking in some of my emotions that are dying to break free and allow me to freak out.

London shrieks, heatedly, “Bullshit! It’s not nothing! It’s everything! You can’t keep dealing with this alone. You can’t keep hiding from this. Tell her or I will, people need to know.”

I glare at London as she yells this in my face; she knows this is my fucking secret. No one needs to know what I went through, what I continue to go through. He doesn’t deserve to be talked about or cried over.

I look at Avery and nod my head. Fine, they want to hear some of the details of how fucked up I let my life get, fine.

“Fuck it, whatever. But don’t you dare fucking cry about it. He doesn’t deserve the tears; he doesn’t even deserve my words.” I mumble out, defeated.

I walk to my bedroom and get my pistol. I’ll be damned if he does that to me again. I want Tate, so I have to fight this time.

Muttering angrily as I enter the room again, “I’m not telling her everything. I can’t deal with talking about it all. I’ll tell you a few highlights about the monster, Avery. First off, this is the monster’s work, we don’t say his name; he doesn’t get that privilege.”

I look from London’s grief-stricken face to Avery’s curious but cautious one and begin.

EMILY

Two years ago…

I still can’t get over the fact that I’m pregnant.
I’m going to be a mommy!
I can’t wait to tell London all about this.

Maybe this is just the sort of thing that Jeremy needs to start treating me better, like he used to. This could be exactly what we need and it’s all because of you, M. I’m going to call you M, because you’re my tiny miracle. I promise I’m going to be the best momma ever.

Let’s see, Jeremy will be home in about two hours. I’m going to shower and get all freshened up. After I’m done, I’ll cook a nice dinner. I hope he didn’t get upset at work today. I know the factory stresses him out. Maybe now he will understand that it’s good I take all those college courses online. I’ll be able to get a job after the baby’s born and he will have less stress to deal with.

I prepare one of his favorite chicken dishes and place it into the oven to cook. It should be ready right before he gets home.

I take a deep, anxious breath and promise myself that everything will be fine. Jeremy will stop being so mean to me all of the time. He’s even started slapping me a couple times when he says I screw up. Now that I’m pregnant though I know he will stop. It’s not good for our little M.

Jeremy will be so happy to have someone else to love him and show him attention. He’s obsessive about having all of my focus. I’ll call London with the good news after I let Jeremy know.

I stuff my cheap phone into my back jeans pocket, that way it’s ready after I get done celebrating the good news. I wonder what Granddaddy will say when I get to tell him. He will probably be excited to have a little one around, as long as I’m happy.

The oven timer dings and I grab my mitts to pull the chicken out of the oven. I place the large casserole dish on our little table I have set up for us and grab the bread. I pour a tall glass of milk for myself and straighten out the silverware for the third time.

I can hear the rumble of Jeremy’s truck as he pulls up. I’m actually excited for him to be home. Lately I have been dreading it, but today is a joyful day.

The front door slams open and it makes my heart speed up. I’ve developed a little bit of anxiety. The doctor calls them mini panic attacks, but that can’t be right because I have no real reason to be stressed.

I have flutters in my belly when Jeremy steps inside. Not butterflies, but I almost feel as if I want to puke. It’s probably the baby. Oh no, I forgot about the morning sickness. I hope it’s after Jeremy goes to work, because he won’t like it cutting into his time.

I smile, it may look a little fake but hopefully he will be too distracted with dinner on the table to notice. He looks grouchy and worn out. The factory and stress has been ageing him.

He has grey eyes and long black hair that he tucks behind his ears. Girls in high school thought he was hot but Jeremy’s very shy. I was one of the only girls to talk to him regularly, so he asked me to be his girlfriend after a while.

Jeremy has a long, muscular body like a swimmer. He’s always dressed in a pair of jeans and plain t-shirt. He has always reminded me more of a musician. He looks like he could be some depressed rock singer on stage.

I look into his eyes and smile for real this time, thinking about M. I’m excited to tell him our news. I know it will cheer him up.

He looks at me surprised, “You cooked Ritz Chicken, boo?”

“Yes, Jeremy, I know it’s one of your favorites.”

“And it’s done when I get home? Maybe you’re finally learning, boo, but where’s my tea? Gotta put some more effort into it, Emily.”

“Right, sorry. I’ll get it. I have some great news to share with you.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me this greeeeeat news you have.” He grumbles out.

I’m not going to let it dampen my spirits. Today is about M and our future.

“I went to Dr. Anderson’s office this morning.”

“How did you get there?” he asks as he sits at our ugly little table and begins to cut into his chicken.

“Oh, I took a cab, I was unwell.” I give him my most innocent look, hoping he won’t get angry.

“Great, Emily. You’re wasting more fucking money, just like those bullshit college courses.” He shakes his head at me as if he’s disappointed and I cringe.

Suddenly he slams his hand down on the table so forcefully the glass holding my milk shatters. Milk spills, flooding the table.
Oh no.
Where’s a towel so I can hurry and clean this up? Jeremy hates messes and I need to get it cleaned up as fast as possible.

I leap up quickly to grab a towel. Once I clean up the mess and he starts to chew his food, I sit and try again.

“Dr. Anderson did a test and found out I’m pregnant; I’m about six weeks she thinks.” I grin, because this is it, I know he will jump up and hug me.

“What did you just say?” He growls out lowly.

Oh no, he doesn’t look too excited. Fuck! This was supposed to go a whole lot better than this.

“Umm, I said I’m pregnant. Isn’t that wonderful?” I ask timidly.

Jeremy jumps up suddenly and stuff goes flying off the table when he hits it with his thighs. I leap up and out of the way at the crash and immediately attempt to hide my face with my hands.

He storms toward me swiftly and punches me straight in the face. The impact is so solid and painful, I stumble. Jeremy comes at me again; he hits me so hard, that this time I fall. On my way down I hit my head on the wall next to the kitchen table.

Ten minutes later…

I must have blacked out. I wake to Jeremy screaming, “You will not be some filthy, fucking, pregnant teenage slut in this house. You think I’ll let everyone talk about me and my knocked up whore of a girlfriend.”

He repeatedly kicks me brutally in my stomach. My head is pounding something fierce and I’m in pain like I’ve never experienced before. My vision is hazy, like I’m stuck in a horrifying nightmare, only I know I won’t wake up to happiness.

My body is screaming in pain at me with each blow he deals. It hurts so horribly, I start to puke everywhere and I pee my pants. I can’t help it. I sob, as I wrap my hands around my stomach as much as I can.

He starts laughing maniacally, “You think you can protect yourself from me? You stupid bitch, I’ll fix your problem.”

Jeremy kicks me one last time really, really hard and I gasp. The air is knocked from my lungs and I feel as if I’m suffocating. There’s this huge weight on my chest and I think I may pass out again.

The only other time I’ve felt this feeling is when I lost my mother. That agonizing pain in your chest as a piece of you breaks.

He grits out, disgusted, “Now, you clean yourself up and get rid of that fucking problem you have. Don’t ever tell me any dumb shit like that again. I can’t believe you made me hit you again. I fucking swear, Emily, get your act together. I’ll be back; I can’t deal with your shit right now.”

Once the door slams I try my best to get my phone out. London can help me. I feel like I’m dying.

Two weeks later…

I spend two weeks in the hospital. I guess I’m ‘fortunate’ there is no internal bleeding. They have no idea what fortunate means.

Little M is gone. My precious, innocent little baby was stolen from me. He was condemned to his father’s wrath and I was unable to save him.

I know this is not the life I want. I know I have to get away and although I’m too broken and sick inside to do anything right now, I will do it. One day he will come home and I will be gone, just like my little M.

Three weeks later…

It’s been a total of five weeks now, since I lost my precious baby and discovered the true monster I’m living with. That is what he is, a monster. I hate him and it makes me sick when he touches me. I wish that he would just die. Each day I imagine him getting crushed when he goes to work at the factory. I want him to suffer.

Thankfully the doctors told him to not be intimate with me for a few weeks or I’d have to go back to the hospital. He doesn’t like to draw attention so that helped me out some. Jeremy stayed away for three weeks, but after that he said I’d just have to “get over my shit.”

Things have slowly gone back to our ‘normal.’ Jeremy works, comes home to dinner made, he complains, treats me like crap and has slapped me twice this week. He’s no longer worried about breaking my nose, since he broke it when he punched me.

Jeremy says he has to keep me on my toes, to teach me how to be a good wife to him someday. I will never be his wife.
I hate him.
This hate inside me grows with each insult, each slap, and each rough fuck he makes me endure.

It’s Thursday now, I know I have one day left of him to go to work before he’s off for the weekend. I can’t handle being home with him for two full days; he will probably end up killing me. I have to do this, I have to get out.

Once Granddaddy finds out what Jeremy’s been doing, he will shoot his ass with his favorite twelve gauge shot gun. I can’t believe London has kept my secret for this long. She said I have till Saturday to tell Granddaddy then she’s doing it. I hope I can get it out and tell him by then. I know she cares about me, but she has no idea how hard it is.

I’m essentially trapped. I know inside that if I leave he will hurt me if he gets ahold of me again. It will hurt me more at this point to stay though, than it would to leave and him come after me.

I can’t get ahold of London. I think she’s still at work. I have to go now, if I’m going to make it to Granddaddy’s before it’s time for Jeremy to get off work.

I pull on my black and pink Converse sneakers. I sling my backpack onto my shoulders as I leave my bedroom. Trekking to the living room, I grab up my duffle bag, and then start walking to Granddad’s house.

I’m about a mile down the dirt road we live on, when I see it. Jeremy’s old blue pick-up truck is flying down the dirt road in front of me. I know he sees me, I hope he just drives past and leaves me alone.

Damn it!
He never comes home early. I wonder if he found out somehow. But how? I have only told London about it over the phone, when he was at work. He’s never really told me I can’t leave; he just implies that I’ll be his wife one day.

The truck skids to a stop in front of me and I start to shake. Don’t puke, don’t puke, please don’t puke.

He climbs out, “Where ya’ goin’, cupcake?” He gazes at the backpack on my back and the duffle bag in my hand.

I chuckle nervously. “Oh, I was just going to visit Granddaddy for a few hours.”

I can’t look him in the eyes. He knows I’m lying through my teeth right now. I don’t know why I do it. Maybe to see how far he will let me go with it or maybe to try to buy myself some time.

“That right?” He replies in a curious tone, raising his eyebrows. “Going for a few hours and taking all your clothes, huh? You know what I think? I think you’re trying to leave me, cupcake. However, I don’t remember giving you permission to go anywhere.”

His fist comes flying at me and hits my left eye.
Fuck! The face again?
The hit makes me stumble back into the side of the truck. He uses my stumble to get closer and hits me in the face again.

Jeremy throws my bags in the back of the truck and picks me up around my waist. He puts me in his truck and slams the door. I don’t dare move, because I know it will only make things worse. At this point I still have a chance of London magically knocking on the door at the house.

I’m sobbing hysterically; my face feels like I was just hit with a brick. My head rings as if I have a huge headache, pressing down behind my eyes. I feel like I’m going to puke, but I hold it down. I know he would hurt me more if I get sick in his truck. I feel my face bleeding and it’s hot, like it’s on fire. I hope Jeremy doesn’t hurt me because of the blood making a mess.

He glances at me and snarls, “That’s okay, you fucking teenage whore, we will go home and fix this. You think I’ll let you go?” He huffs, “You stupid, stupid fucking girl. I will fucking bury your ass in the backyard if I have to, before I let you go.” He shakes his head, wagging his pointer finger at me. “I’ve been too nice, too easy on you. I will teach you though, just wait. You will fucking learn, even if I have to beat it into your fucking piece-of-shit skull.” Jeremy rambles the same thing over and over, the entire way home.