‘It’s about the amount of butter on the crust’ he gawked at me taunting a response. I hadn’t thought about the amount of butter I had used and in fact I had been distracted, how many times did I butter the crust? My lips parted, exhaling through the words ‘I’m sorry.’ He stood before me, my hands gripping the edge of the chair below as he tossed a napkin onto his plate, ‘It’s a simple grilled cheese, I don’t understand how you can fuck it up this badly.’ I stared ahead refusing to meet his eyes as he placed a hand on the side of my face, the only touch that could be so soft, yet laced with the intensity of an unbecoming rage.
‘It’s a good thing I make the best grilled cheese in the world,’ my eyes met his ‘Don’t you think sweetheart?’ his hand moving to where my neck met my shoulder, ‘Answer me,’ his grip tightened and I watched as he beckoned for the words ‘Yes,’ I responded ‘The best.’
His hand left me then returned. I saw white, the first blow to the right side of my jaw. I crumbled, the cold tiles settling underneath as the second blow met me, the third, the fourth, the fifth. My face, my stomach, my back. Am I still awake? My mind lulling me in and out a state of consciousness as my eyes rested on his back, moving away from my limber body. I traced the floor with the tip of my finger, willing the pain to rage over me, grounding myself back to his touch.
Darkness enveloped me as my eyes closed over and the exhaustion became me.
—
Days had passed when I woke, wrapped in cotton sheets, the mattress soft beneath my damp hair. Did he bathe me? I moved to lean against the headboard, pain searing through my entirety. I let my eyes adjust to the light lifting my shirt as I inspected myself, my stomach outlined with a pattern of blue and yellow, my arms not far behind. I inched further down the bed, careful with every movement sending bolts of agony through me. Turning my head slightly to meet the mahogany vanity I held the reflection of my face, my pale eyes widening beneath a song of red and black, the swelling neatly adjusted to every blow.
‘It brings out the green in your eyes’ I jolted unaware of his presence, the pain buckling over me again ‘It’s the red you know, it contrasts enough to make your eyes look more green’ he smiled at me, amusement dancing in his eyes. ‘Yes, you’re right,’ I attempted a smile willing the sincerity to appear. He moved towards me, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and placing his hand around mine. ‘Beautiful, so perfect’ he mumbled, his eyes casting over me.
‘Now, I need you to get changed as I have a very special surprise for you,’ he beamed at me, anticipation moving through him.
—
I shifted on the balls of my feet as I moved slowly into the dining area, the lace on the hem of my dress painfully caressing my wounds. He stretched his arms in front of him, lacing his fingers together and resting them behind his head ’Stand here,’ he motioned to the space beside him. I walked slowly, resting against the kitchen bench where a large plate covered in a bright red tea towel sat before me. ’My surprise for you,’ he lifted the towel to reveal an assortment of foods; eggs, milk, butter, flour, cocoa and cream. I raised my eyes to meet his awaiting further instruction, ‘Today you will make chocolate soufflé.’ Before I could speak, he was gone. My hands moved quickly, unloading the ingredients into their measuring cups, pulling out two bowls an electric mixer and three mixing spoons. I moved to the oven, 350 degrees should be perfect I bent forward letting the adrenaline push through the agony of my injuries, turning the dial 3-5-0.
I adjusted myself, standing and assessing the space before me Ingredients, utensils, oven. I had two hours before he was back, I got to work.
—
I was pulling at the straps of my apron when I felt him near me again. I stepped behind him, watching as his eyes cast over the black marble counter tops scrubbed and polished, his eyes landing on the two chocolate soufflés sitting neatly beside two polished spoons. ‘You cleaned too, good girl’ my lips twitching into a smile as I moved to the dining table. Pulling out his chair at the head of the table, I took my usual spot standing. He took his seat, lifting his head to meet my gaze ‘I would like to be served now’. I moved back towards the kitchen, pulling out a serving tray and placing the polished spoons and warm soufflés carefully. I walked them back, slowly setting the tray before him and unloading one soufflé and one spoon. I resumed my spot. Staring ahead, my peripheral watching as he lifted the spoon pushing slowly into the centre of the soft baked dessert. The sole of his leather boot tapping against the hard tiles below, placing a spoonful into his mouth as a moan escaped him. My head tilted to him, delight spread across my face hiding the dissapointment. ‘Exquisite,’ he breathed through another mouthful. A soft smile reached the corners of his mouth as he pulled out my chair and unloaded the second soufflé with the second spoon. I took my seat 'Begin,' he motioned to the dish as I picked up my spoon, mimicking his movements.
‘The perfect wife,’ he beamed as I did, smiling between mouthfuls our eyes not leaving each other.
—
His hands on my waist, I circled with him as he moved me into a slow dance. The empty soufflé bowls scattered by the sink, the spoons no longer shiny and polished. ‘You were a very good girl today,’ he whispered into my ear as we continued moving delicately beside the kitchen. ‘I can be a good girl tomorrow,’ I lied, already planning my faults. His eyes met mine, a short smile reaching his lips as he understood the deception before him. I rested my head against his chest, the warmth consuming me as he lulled me into a serenade beneath his arms.
‘Tomorrow,’ I repeated letting the anticipation settle within me, almost tasting his hand sharp across my face, a smile becoming with the thought. Tomorrow I would be another canvas for the black that would turn blue, and then into yellow. Tomorrow his pain would become mine and I would become all of me.
‘Yes' he reassured me, 'Tomorrow.'
I nestled closer into him and the thrill rippled through me.
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2 comments
Chilling and unsettling…great job! These charters really itched a spot with this almost sad story. The only suggestion I have to make your story flow better is to always start a new paragraph when someone speaks in your writing. All characters when speaking should have their own paragraph for their dialogue each time. Besides that job well done! I can’t wait to read more from you.
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Hello! Thank you so much for your praise and your feedback. I will be taking this with me into my next story.
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