Wake to Dream(77)

Over and over he pounded, his breath coming out in heavy bursts across her cheek. Releasing her mouth, he gripped his fist into her hair and pulled her head up until her neck was arched at a painful angle, his relentless pounding never easing despite her pleas for him to stop.

He wasn’t listening. He didn’t care. All that mattered was his own selfish need to dominate her in every way.

The more she begged, the harder he thrust inside her, his actions that of a man thoroughly possessed.

Fighting against him was useless, and soon Alice’s voice quieted down, her body accepting the pounding until that one final push so deep inside, she knew that he was done.

He didn’t release her gently, instead just backed away and dropped her into a broken puddle over the ground.

The tears wouldn’t stop falling as he stood watching over her, her throat torn on the inside because of the way she’d screamed and begged. And when the only sound left in the room was Alice sobbing, Max simply walked away.





Sitting outside among the flowers that were now in full bloom, Alice surveyed her garden, her hands idly digging at the ground where she’d planned to settle new seedlings into the earth. However, she couldn’t bring herself to focus on the task as her eyes studied the rings of bruises that marred her thin wrists. These bruises weren’t the first she’d received from her husband, and they weren’t as dark and angry as the ones that had darkened the skin of her hips for several weeks after the way he’d attacked her against the island counter.

With every new day, Max had become more distant – more violent – but not in anger. Alice hadn’t done anything to deserve his wrath, hadn’t misstepped or forgotten a chore that he’d insisted she manage within the house.

Several times, she’d asked him what was causing the worsening shifts in his moods, and each time she’d been blown off when he refused to answer.

How many times had he fallen to his knees begging forgiveness for his actions? And how many times had she fulfilled the promise she’d made to him on the day she agreed to be his wife?

She’d lost count over the months that followed that first attack.

Blowing out a resigned breath, her eyes tracked the fence line that led to the family cemetery. She’d seen Max out there every so often, usually when the sun was just settling down over the horizon, casting its last brilliant rays over the land. She’d watched him from an upstairs window noticing how it was never the graves with headstones where he stood. Recalling the conversation they had on the day before they were married, Alice remembered his claims that his parents were buried along with his siblings, their graves left unmarked as if nobody had cared they’d ever existed.

Anger tore through her at the thought of what his parents had done to him, at how the cruel hand with which they’d raised him had left scars both physical and emotional. She was glad they were dead, but unhappy about it as well. At least, if they were still alive today, she could unload some of the pain and frustration their son had created inside her when she gave them a piece of her mind.

After several more minutes during which she couldn’t bring herself to finish up the task she’d intended to complete, Alice gathered her tools into her basket and decided to give up for the day. Walking into the house, she cleaned up the dirt she’d tracked in before running upstairs to wash her hands and change into clean clothing.

Max had been spending more and more time in the basement, and even though he’d all but forbidden her to go down there, she couldn’t help her growing curiosity.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, at the bruises that already marred her body and shrugged.

What’s a couple more?

Settling on the decision to investigate the place where her husband disappeared to often, Alice left the confines of their bedroom and crept down the stairs.

Slowly she toed her way through the kitchen and dining room, taking a deep breath as she entered the small parlor that led to the basement door. She knew better than to intrude on his private space, but wondered if what was contained inside wouldn’t answer all the questions that Max had always refused to abide.

A shiver ran over her spine, but she ignored the fear she felt and her hand reached to open the door.

Hit by a wave of a musty scent, Alice flinched when the door creaked open. Max hadn’t been lying about the lack of light, but the dim flicker she saw drew her down that first step, her curiosity growing more intense when the first hint of sound met her ears.

"Scream all you want. Nobody will hear you. Although, I prefer that you stop."

It was Max’ voice she heard, but the sound was wrong and she realized it couldn’t have been him that had spoken.

Another step down, the board creaking beneath her foot, she paused to listen to the voice that was distant and flat.

A scream erupted next, feminine and terrified, but it didn’t have the volume Alice would have expected if a woman were down there hidden in the depths of the dusky shadows.

“Are you done? Or will you continue going until you pass out?”

Definitely Max’ voice, amusement and humor evident in his eerily calm tone.

"Who -"

"Stop talking."

"Please," A woman begged, "let me go. I won't -"

Max laughed, the sound soft before he answered, "You know, it's always the same - in real life as well as in entertainment. It never ceases to amaze me how the same lines are used in movies: Please let me go. I won't tell. I'll keep this a secret. They never change the script, and even when it actually happens, people follow the same typical path. What do the victims expect to happen when they beg? That they'll be let go? That the person who took them will respond: oh sure, here let me loosen those ties, and would you also like my name to take to the police? Perhaps a copy of my driver's license would be helpful?'"