Monk by Ivy Black
Domino PreviewChapter Two
Ashley
“Go on and fetch me a beer,” he says.
He shakes an oxycodone pill out of the prescription bottle and into his hand. Ryan sees me watching him and sneers as he slips the bottle back into his pocket. Never taking his eyes from mine, he pops the pill and washes it down with the last of his beer, setting the bottle back down on the table harder than was necessary.
“Is that a new prescription?” I ask.
“What’s it to you? You’re not the one in pain.”
“Is it bad today?”
Ryan scowls at me. “Would I be taking a pill if it wasn’t?”
I open my mouth to tell him that yes, yes, he would, because I’ve been watching him do it for years. This long after his surgery, he shouldn’t need them, but Dr. Perkins is a friend of his and continues to fill his prescriptions, anyway. “Chronic pain management” is what the doctor calls it, but I’m highly skeptical about the level of his “chronic pain”, I close my mouth and end up not saying anything, though, not wanting to have a fight with him. Again. It’s far wiser to pick my battles, and this is not a hill I’m willing to die on. Not tonight.
“Go get me a beer, Ash,” he snaps.
I glare at him for a long moment, my resentment reaching a tipping point. Cole, our four-year-old son, sits at his place at the table. He wriggles in his booster and puts a carrot into his mouth, his dark eyes falling onto me. It’s as if he picked up on the sudden tension that’s gripping me and looks concerned. Cole’s always been a sensitive boy like that.
“Did you hear me? Go get me a beer,” Ryan repeats.
“How about saying please?” I finally shoot back. “I’m trying to teach our son some manners.”
Ryan’s dark eyes narrow as his face darkens. It’s the telltale sign of an impending explosion. And though I would rather not do this in front of Cole, I don’t want him to think his father’s behavior is normal. More than that, I don’t want him to think it’s acceptable. This is not how you treat a woman, and I won’t have Cole thinking it is.
“How about you shut the fuck up and go get me a beer like I told you to,” Ryan snaps.
The tension in our small dining room is thick. Ryan had a bad day at work, and as usual, he’s taking it out on me. It seems to be the way of things anymore. It wasn’t like this when we first met and got together. Back then, in high school, he was funny. Charming. He was kind and treated me really well. He treated me like a princess, to be honest. Ryan was a football star, and he was going places. Back then, I looked forward to my future with him.
But then, he got injured and everything changed. When they fused the vertebrae in his neck, his dreams of NFL stardom ended, and he grew colder. Bitter. He grew angry, and that kind, carefree boy I once knew vanished. I kept hoping he would change, that the bitterness would fade, and that he would become the man I fell in love with again. I put up with his insults and harsh words, believing that once some time had passed and he saw I wasn’t going anywhere, and that I loved him whether he was playing football or not, that his rage would dissipate.
As it turned out, though, my hopes and beliefs were all in vain. Time passed and he only seemed to get more and more angry. He drank more. His words grew harder than his heart, and the love between us seemed to wither and die on the vine and all the hopes I had for a loving and bright future along with it.
By then, however, we were already living together, and Cole was on the way. We never got married, since he says he doesn’t believe in marriage, and being as in love with him as I was, that was all right with me. But being pregnant and with no career of my own to speak of, I felt trapped. Still feel trapped. I feel totally stuck with this ticking time bomb of a man who explodes for the smallest reasons. And as the months, weeks, and years go by, he grows increasingly furious and violent.
“Is this really what you want Cole to think is acceptable behavior? Do you really want him believing it’s okay for him to be so disrespectful to a woman when he grows up?” I ask.
Ryan’s face is turning purple and he’s getting that sneer that signals we’re entering dangerous territory. I shouldn’t be pushing him like this. Not in front of Cole, but I’m so upset at being so terribly disrespected I can’t seem to control my mouth. I’ve finally reached the end of my tether with Ryan and his attitude.
Cole murmurs around with a mouthful of carrot and I look over at him, my love for my sweet boy overwhelming me. It’s then that I realize that I can’t let this all play out in front of him. He doesn’t need to see his father getting angry with me. The lessons I want him to learn, about being kind and respectful, aren’t going to be best served by watching his father scream at me.
Blowing out an exasperated breath, I look away, and without a word, I get to my feet and walk into the kitchen. I grab a bottle of beer out of the refrigerator and slam the door behind me. The bottles in the door rattle and clink together as I twist off the top off the bottle and throw it into the trash can on my way out of the kitchen. As I step back into the dining room, Ryan gives me a smirk when I put it down on the table in front of him, harder than necessary, then I retake my seat.
Cole is looking at me, his eyes wide and his face pensive. He can tell something is happening, and it’s scaring him. Wanting to reassure him that everything is all right, I give him a smile.
“Eat your dinner, love,” I say. “Everything’s fine.”
He looks at me, uncertainty coloring his face, but he finally gives me a smile and goes back to his food.
“Everything will be fine when you learn to do what you’re told,” Ryan mutters.
The anger is like acid running through my veins, and it’s all I can do to keep myself from lashing out at him. I bite my tongue hard enough that I wince as the coppery taste of blood fills my mouth. Rather than taking the bait, I pick up my fork and start pushing the food around on my plate, my appetite suddenly gone.
“I spend my day bustin’ ass to keep a roof over your head and food on the table.” Ryan’s voice is colder than ice. “All I ask is that you have dinner ready when I get home and to grab me a beer when I ask. And you can’t even do that without bitchin’ and whinin’.”
“Ryan, let’s not do this here.”
His eyes narrow and he looks at me with an expression of the purest contempt I’ve ever seen before. The pressure in the room thickens the same way it feels outside right before a storm breaks.
“Cole, honey,” I say, turning to my son. “Why don’t you go ahead and start gettin’ ready for bed? I’ll be in to tuck you in soon.”
“Nah. Stay put. It’s time he learns what it is to be a man.”
Cole looks between the two of us, his face etched with fear and uncertainty. I hate Ryan for putting this sweet, innocent boy in the middle of this. I hate him for trying to use our son against me like that.
“It’s okay honey,” I say to him reassuringly. “Go on ahead to your room.”
Cole jumps out of his seat, runs down the hall to his room, and slams the door behind him. Ryan is glaring hard at me, his displeasure written clearly upon his face.
“I told you to keep him here at the table,” he snarls.
“He doesn’t need to see you behaving like a child.”
“He’s my son. I’ll decide what he needs to see and not see.”
“Not while I’m around,” I mutter.
His fork hitting the plate rings out sharply as Ryan leans forward, his gaze burning with a barely controlled fury pinning me to my seat. I swallow hard and sit up straight, summoning up the nerve to refuse him intimidating me. He’s done it for too many years already, and I’m through with it. The moment he put his hands on me was the moment I decided that things are going to change.
“And who in the fuck do you think you are?” He glares at me.
“I’m the mother of your child. I’m supposedly your girlfriend, too,” I spit. “I’m not your goddamn punching bag, Ryan.”
His expression turns incredulous. “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic? I hit you once. And I apologized for it. It’s not like it’s a constant thing. I was pissed and you pushed me that far, Ashley.”
“Oh, right. It was my fault. How dare I make you slap me.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I?”
Ryan’s expression is sour as he takes a long swallow of the beer that I brought him earlier, his eyes never leaving mine.
“This isn’t working anymore, Ryan.”
“What’s not?”
“This. Us. Our entire situation,” I tell him. “You’re not happy. I’m not happy. And it’s affecting Cole.”
“It’s a rough patch. We’ll be fine.”
“No. We won’t be. We’re not going to be fine if you don’t stop drinking,” I tell him. “And not if we don’t start going to counseling together.”
Ryan drains the last of his bottle and slams it down on the table. He looks at me with utter disgust on his face.
“Counseling? Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”
“I’m not. I’ve been thinking about this for a while—”
“That’s your problem right there,” he interrupts me. “You think too damn much. You always have. You get these stupid, fucked-up ideas in your head, and you think about them, then talk to those bitches who wind you up and set you after me.”
I sit back, staring at him like he’d just slapped me across the face again. Getting him to go to counseling is the last hope I have to save this relationship. Admittedly, it is a far-fetched hope to begin with, but it is the last thing I’ve been clinging to. And now, he’s just ripped that away from me.
“So, you’re not willing to get counseling to save this? To save our relationship? Cole and I aren’t worth—”
“I’m not gettin’ fuckin’ counseling, and you ain’t goin’ anywhere, so just shut up about it,” he snaps as if that somehow ends the debate.
Strangely enough, I would have thought the end of things with Ryan would hurt more. But to be honest, what I actually feel is relief. As I sit there, I ponder what the next steps are and what the future holds. It’s a blank slate and I can do anything I want. I can go anywhere. I can finally get out of Erwin, Georgia if I wanted to. And I do. Very much so. I was born and raised here, but I’m sure as heck not going to die here if I can help it.
Ryan’s voice snaps me out of my reverie. Looking up at him, I see the twisted, angry expression that’s contorting his features, and it’s only then that I realize I’ve got a smile on my face.
“You hear me? You ain’t goin’ anywhere. And you sure as shit ain’t takin’ my boy anywhere.”
“Ryan, we’re over. Whatever we had once upon a time is dead. It has been for some time, and I think you know that. We should just part ways now and not let this resentment between us continue to build. It’s not good for us, and it’s definitely not good for Cole.”
“I don’t think you’re hearin’ me. You ain’t goin’ anywhere, and we ain’t splittin’ up. You got that?”
“Yes. We are,” I tell him. “This is over.”
He moves so quickly I don’t even have time to react before I hear the bottle smashing into the wall behind me. The spray of beer and glass rains down over me and then Ryan is on his feet, knocking the table askew as he rushes to me. The scream that starts to burst from my mouth is cut off by his hand around my throat, yanking me out of my seat.
The breath is forced from my lungs with an “oomph” when he slams me into the wall. The cold, wet beer on the wall is soaking through my t-shirt and sticking to my skin uncomfortably. Ryan leans close to me, his nose scant inches from mine, and the stench of his tobacco and beer breath washing over me in warm waves so thick, I have to keep myself from gagging.
“This is how it is. You’re stayin’ put. You’re gonna have dinner on the table when I get home every night, and the house clean. You’re gonna fuck when I want to fuck, and you ain’t gonna keep talkin’ outta turn like you are,” he says, his voice low and menacing. “You’re gonna respect me as the head of this goddamn household and the bread winner, as you should. And you’re sure as hell gonna put this stupid splittin’ up shit outta your head. You ain’t leavin’ me. You ain’t takin’ my boy anywhere. Now, you got it?”
I glare at him and lift my chin in defiance. “I’m done letting you scare me, Ryan. I’m done letting you tell me what to do. But most of all, I’m done being with you.”
My head is suddenly jerked to the side and pain erupts in my face as I hear the sharp crack of flesh meeting flesh. My cheek is hot, and it stings like hell, but all I can do it stare at him. Ryan looks somewhat startled for a moment as if in disbelief that he’d hit me. Again. But the expression quickly melts away, replaced by one of pure disgust and contempt.
He squeezes my throat, cutting off my air as if to underscore his point. My eyes bulging and the feeling of lightheadedness descending over me, all I can do is nod. If I hadn’t, he very likely would have kept going until I passed out. Or killed me. One of the two. The look of an almost maniacal glee in his eyes tells me that he’s lost control or is on the verge of it. And when he gets like that, there’s no telling what he’ll do or how far he’ll go. He’s unpredictable when he’s enraged.
Ryan stares into my eyes for another long moment and I see the darkness creeping in at the edges of my vision. He finally lets go of me, but before he does, he slaps me across the face once more. I fall to my hands and knees, choking and wheezing, sucking in deep lungfuls of air. Slowly, the waves of dizziness start to pass, and I retreat from the edge of passing out. He gives me another moment, but then roughly yanks me to my feet.
“That slap was just so you remember this. And know your place. It wouldn’t have to be like that, but you’re forcin’ my hand, Ashley. Goddamn you for makin’ me do shit like that. But the sooner you settle down and be the kind of woman I want and deserve, the better off we’ll all be. You got me?”
Shocked by his savagery and the anger I see in his face, I simply nod. He lingers there for another moment, staring deep into my eyes. Satisfied that he’s made his point, he turns and walks toward the living room.
“Clean this shit up,” he calls over his shoulder.
A moment later, the television goes on and I hear the cheering of some sporting event he’s watching, leaving me there feeling completely shattered and more scared than I’ve ever been.
As I stand there, in that moment, I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that if I try to leave, he’ll kill me.
