Three Loving Words (3 page)

Enzo somehow made it into the car without any help.  I drove us to his house, my new house, the one his dad had bought for us a month prior in anticipation of our marriage.  He was barely conscious all the way home, but the minute I pulled into the driveway, it was as if he got his second wind.  He was up and springing up the stairs, mumbling something about me being a wife now.

I had seen the house a couple of times before, but always when Enzo wasn’t there. His stuff already occupied the master bedroom.  I had claimed the room farthest from that one. I made my way into his room just to make sure he didn’t stumble, fall, and hit his head or vomit all over himself.  However, what I saw was him dancing around the room singing, “Oh wifey, oh wifey.”

I headed to my room, dreading my first night as a married woman, dreading the beginning of this ridiculous life.  Would I still get to go to school?  Would I still get to have a life?  I hadn’t even thought about those things before. I highly doubted any of that would happen.

The first thing I did was take off my wedding ring and toss it in a drawer.  I didn’t have an engagement ring since we didn’t have a conventional engagement, but for the sake of false pretenses, we had exchanged rings.  But that was exactly what my wedding ring was – false.  I might have married Enzo on paper that day, but I wasn’t married in my heart, and I wasn’t going to wear a symbol of my fake marriage.

I had just managed to get my wedding dress off when there was loud pounding on my door. Before I had a chance to put something on and open it, it flew open, nearly coming off its hinges.  The asshole had rammed my door!

He had a bottle of some brownish liquid in his hand. Whiskey maybe?  As if he needed any more to drink.  I scrambled to cover myself even though I was in a bra and underwear, but that was the first time I was semi-naked in front of a man.

“Oh wifey,” he sang again, and I felt the hairs all over my body stand up straight.  Oh, Jesus!  He didn’t … he wouldn’t … he didn’t think we were consummating this marriage, did he?  I … I’d never … No!

“Time to perform your wifey duties.” He chuckled, snapping me out of my own mental dialogue with myself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I played dumb, my arms crossed over my body protectively since they weren’t covering much anyways.

“This sham of a marriage is all your fucking fault,” he scorned.  “You should have said no.  You fucking should have said no.”

“I didn’t have a choice!” I screamed, the fire in me boiling.  “Why the hell didn’t you say no?” I yelled, my arms flailing now.  I only realized I wasn’t covering myself when I noticed his eyes roam over my body.  His eyes snapped back to mine, and both lust and determination filled them.  I’d be lying if I said it didn’t flatter me a bit.  For once, I had a guy who had seen my sister and their desire was aimed at me.  But my intense fear of what could happen overpowered that flattery.

“I didn’t have a choice,” he responded, his voice low but laced with fury.  “You did this; you made me your husband, so now, it’s time to pay up.”

“I already did!  I paid my debt to your dad.  I married you.  That’s it!”

“Yes, but now, you owe me.” He laughed as he stalked closer.  “And now, it’s time for me to claim my repayment.  You’re my wife now, Paige.” He spoke my name like it was a dirty word.  “That means you must do your wifey duty.”

“I don’t even know what the hell that means,” I said as he strode closer to me stopping just a few inches from my face.  I could almost taste his sour alcohol-filled breath, but even as my scared mind screamed for me to flee, I refused to back down, to cower.  That was a big mistake.  I should have run because the next thing I knew, he had pushed me onto the bed and had pinned me down with his arms and legs.

“I think you know exactly what that means,” he mocked.  The ironic thing?  I knew what he meant, but I had no clue about sex.  And here I was, a virgin, my first time about to be taken from me forcefully, against my will, by the husband I married against my wishes.

My mind went into survival mode because I started fighting him, but it was no use.  He trailed his tongue across my neck as I cringed.

“It’s a shame you’re so beautiful.”  It was funny how that pseudo-compliment made me feel powerful and broken at the same time.  But it didn’t stop me from fighting.  He managed to get both my arms in one of his hands as he started trailing his other across my thighs.

I screamed, but his tongue assaulting my mouth muffled it.

“Stop screaming,” he spoke after he lifted his lips.  “This is your motherfucking wifey duties.”

He moved his lips to my neck again and all my thrashing about didn’t deter him.  His fingers trailed along my thighs, my apex, as his lips caressed my neck.  I was in a weird hell.  The gentle touch he used on my body, my virgin body, was completely contradictory to the act he was about to perform.  I didn’t want this.  He knew that.  I had made it clear, yet he continued to knead the skin of my thighs.  My body betrayed my mind.  I felt the wetness pooling at my junction even as my mind screamed to stop.  “Get off me,” I yelled, my body moving from side to side.  He was too strong, even with all the alcohol he consumed, or maybe because of all the alcohol he consumed.  I was no match for him.  “Enzo, stop!” I tried again.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled against my lips, biting my lower lip, hard, as if in punishment.

“Please, please, stop,” I begged.  “I don’t want this.  I don’t want you.  You don’t want to do this.” I tried to reason, but there was no reasoning with him.  I saw how clouded his eyes were when he looked at me.  Even if there was good in him, the alcohol had pushed it all back down.

I felt my underwear move to the side as his finger trailed an area no man had touched before.  I whimpered, but it wasn’t in pleasure.  It was unadulterated fear.

“So wet,” he whispered. “You want this.”

“Please, God, please Enzo, stop!  Don’t do this!”

My words were useless as he plunged a finger inside me.  I cried out.  It didn’t take a genius to realize it wasn’t a pleasant sound, but Enzo moaned. “That’s right.”

The tears came.  They had been burning behind my eyes, shock preventing them from falling, but as his finger moved in and out, the sobs overtook my body.  I was no longer trying to push him off because I couldn’t.  My body was convulsing too hard from the painful tears wracking my body.  I was jolting back and forth, and Enzo probably didn’t even realize why I was rocking back and forth.  I had never experienced such pain, such violation, such hatred before in my life.  They always said in movies that it was not the victim’s fault, but as he stuck another finger inside me, I couldn’t help but feel like it was.  If I hadn’t agreed to this, if I had stood up for myself, if I had run the minute he walked into my room, this wouldn’t be happening.  Maybe this was my punishment for playing with fate.

“You’re so tight,” he whispered against my neck and the tears flew again.

I found my voice.  “Please, no!  Please stop!” I screamed.

“I’m just getting you ready,” he spoke.  “You’ll be begging for me in just a moment, and don’t worry; I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

“No!” It was the loudest my voice could go.  “I’m not … you can’t …” I couldn’t find the right words.  I started gagging just thinking about what would happen next.  The absolute horror of what was happening and the next steps overtook my body. I started shaking violently.  I didn't know when it happened, but I realized his fingers had slipped out of me.  I had been too in my mind, screaming for the violation to stop to figure out that he had stopped moving.  Panic set in, but survival kicked in higher.  I shifted my head so I could get a better look at him. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, and he was breathing evenly.

My saving grace from a far worse fate was that he had passed out.  It didn’t help that he had passed out on me, but I would take that any day over rape.  It took me a good twenty minutes to maneuver myself from under him without risking waking him up and continuing where he left off.  I grabbed some pajamas and left him where he was as I made my way to another room.  I bolted that door and put two chairs in front of it just in case.  The shock of what had happened, on top of the fact that I had just married that man, kept me from truly realizing what I had been and almost had been subjected to.

I must have fallen asleep at some point because gentle knocking on my door woke me up. The light streaming into the room was bright and the clock on the wall said it was after two in the afternoon.

The knob wiggled a few times before it finally twisted open.  Enzo had a key in his hand; of course, he did as he tripped over the chairs I had stacked against the door.  He managed to push them aside as he walked into the room but kept his distance.  My pajamas completely covered me, but I still pulled the covers over my body and shrank back, fear creeping into my very bones. He must have sensed my fear and his face recoiled.

“Listen, about last night,” he started.  His voice was soft, but I hadn’t realized it at the time, only looking back after.  All that I heard was his mention of the night before, of what he did to me and what he hadn’t succeeded in finishing only because he passed out.  Suddenly, I was angry, I was hurt, and I cut him off before he could say anything else.

“I don’t want to fucking talk about last night!” I yelled.  I didn’t.  I wanted to forget him and it and everything about it.  “You are a vile creature, a piece of fucking shit. I hate you.”

He flinched back as if I had slapped him.  I would have loved to actually slap him; he deserved nothing less and certainly a lot more. But sometimes, words hurt more than actions.

“Paige,” he started again and moved closer to the bed.  I scrambled farther away from him, tucking the covers tighter around myself as if that could protect me from him.

“Don’t come near me!” I screamed.  I was angry, but I was sure I couldn’t hide the fear in my voice.  He stopped where he was but sighed.  He opened his mouth and shut it as if trying to find the right words.  But what kind of words could he say that would make what he did all right?  Even if he came to apologize, they were just words.  His actions were louder and clearer than anything he could say.

“You have to listen to me.” He spoke a little more loudly, the frustration clear in his voice.

“Fuck you, Enzo!” I spat.  “If you ever come near me again, I’ll kill you. I’ll fucking kill you.  You disgust me!”

I didn’t know what it was about my words, but it was like he snapped.  Gone was the calm guy who had walked into the room just moments before.  In his place was the man from last night, hatred in his eyes.  “I disgust you?” He laughed a sinister laugh.  “That’s rich considering we’re in this mess because of you.  You are the one who agreed to marry me, little girl.”  He moved closer to the bed, and I moved to the very far edge.  There was nowhere else to go unless I got up and ran, but I knew that was pointless, too.

“I didn’t agree to be your fucking toy!” I yelled at him.

“And what do you think this sham of a marriage is going to be like?  Two best friends living together under one roof?” he sneered.

“You are never touching me again.  Do you hear me? Do you fucking understand me, you worthless son of a bitch?”

I had only cursed a handful of times in my life, and here I was spewing the words as if they were air.  That was what he did to me.

“You’re a real piece of work, Paige.  A real fucking cunt, you know that?”

I was scared out of my mind, but I wouldn’t let him know that.  “Fuck you,” I said, not breaking eye contact.

“Yeah, you wish.  Your body sure as hell wished it.”

I flinched and shuttered.  The words affected me in a way I couldn’t describe. “That’s what rapists tell themselves to make themselves feel better! You’re not touching me,” I said with far less conviction than I had before, even though I meant it just as strongly.

“Don’t worry, little girl. I hate you.  I wouldn’t even want to touch you.” He chuckled, but it sounded like the cackle of a madman. 

“That makes two of us!” I screamed.  “Even if you were the last man on Earth, I wouldn’t touch you!”  The sincerity and hate in my voice were unmistakable.

He laughed again.  “How sweet that you actually believe that.  Little girl, I bet you’ll be begging for me.  You’ll come to me and ask me to touch you, to make you scream my name over and over.  You’ll plead for it, Paige, and I will laugh and remind you of what you’re saying right now.  Trust me, Paige, you’ll come to me, and you’ll beg,” he repeated, each word punctuated as if it was its own sentence.

“Never,” I whispered through clenched teeth.  It was then I realized I had somehow made it off the bed during our argument, and our faces were inches apart.  The fire in his eyes, the pure hate that rolled off his body in heat waves was so close; I could practically feel it as if it were in my own bones.  It might have been, actually, as my anger, my pain, my humiliation, and betrayal were burning through me, mirroring his emotions.  We were breathing hard, panting as if we had run a marathon, but my lack of breath was from the adrenaline coursing through my veins.  I’d guess his was, too.  It took mere seconds to sort through all this, but I know it felt much longer.  His eyes didn’t leave mine, and the disdain didn’t dissipate.  I had found some bravado when we verbally sparred just moments before, but being this close to him now had my fear spiking.  He could pin me with his body, assault me, and finish what he’d started the night before.  Something told me that he wouldn’t, no matter how angry he appeared to be, but I wasn’t taking that chance.  I stepped back, trying desperately to hold the tears at bay, but the wet trails along my cheeks told me that I had been failing miserably.  I sucked in a deep breath to try to get myself under control as my second foot slid back.  That seemed to snap him out of his own mind.  I swore I saw him visibly shake himself before he turned abruptly and walked out of the room. Leaving me to fall apart, leaving me to soak in everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours all by myself, and leaving me to realize my perfect dream life was a fantasy.  This was my life now.