Hopefully, he will lock himself in there until it’s time to get ready for our guests.
The water isn’t too bad this morning. Not exactly warm, but not freezing either. I turn off the spray so that Ricky is able to endure a quick wash as well. Wanting to dress hastily, while I still have a little privacy in the bedroom, I dry off and think about what to wear. Casual for the day and leave the dressing up part until the last minute.
When I walk into the bedroom, Joseph is leering at me from the bed and I wrap my towel around me tighter while I search for an outfit.
“So, Ricky’s still asleep.” I cringe at his suggestive tone. At the way he is acting, as though nothing terrible happened last night. As if he didn’t shatter my world. Does he actually think I would want to have sex with the person who molested me while I was unconscious? Is he crazy?
I actually think he may have developed some kind of mental health problem. He’s not the man I married. I don’t understand how we got to this stage. I remember when he took on more hours at work, after we had Ricky. He slowly started to snap at me more. At first, I was shocked, then I tried to rationalize that it was because he was under a lot of stress. I reasoned that things would get better.
If friends or family ever saw any odd behaviour, which wasn’t very often, I made excuses for him. I’m not sure if I was trying to fool them or myself, probably both. His accusations and actions caused me severe embarrassment. I wanted to hide it from the world. I wanted to cover it all up. He never had to ask me to do so. If they ever heard all the vile things he said, I was convinced they would believe it.
Things started to slowly worsen and for a while, I deluded myself into thinking I could fix it. By the time I realised I couldn’t, I was trapped in a situation that I have no idea how to handle.
I wonder what people would say if I told them, my husband raped me last night. I can imagine their reply, ‘ How could a husband rape his wife?’ ‘You’re married. Sex is part of that relationship.’ Or maybe, ‘ That is ridiculous, he’s such a sweet man, maybe he just misunderstood your unwillingness .’
I turn my back on him without answering. My voice isn’t strong enough to come out anyway. I walk on shaky legs to the closet in a rush to find some clothes. My carefully planned outfit choices for the day go out the window as I reach for the first thing I can find, my Nirvana tee and a pair of jeans.
I’m obviously not fast enough though, as I feel Joseph’s hot breath down my neck. His fingers trace around the top of the towel, trying to loosen it, and his eagerness presses up against my backside. I inch forward, creeping away from his touch, but he follows and leans back in. He urges me with that sickly sweet tone, “No need to get dressed yet, baby.”
I have a death grip to hold the protective barrier wrapped around me in place. “I’m a little sore,” I manage to choke out.
“I must be a bit of a stud then, hey?” He places chaste kisses along my shoulder blades. His lips hold no warmth. Instead they shoot cold fear through me. I can’t fathom how or why he is pleased with himself that he hurt me.
Wouldn’t it do better things for his pride, if he caused me great pleasure instead of pain? What did I do to deserve treatment like this?
Ricky’s sweet little voice floats through the door, “Mummy, I’m hungry.” While Joseph is distracted, I step away.
“I’ll be right there Ricky, just a second.” My voice wobbles and I will my feet to move further away from Joseph.
“There are locks on the door you know, Roxi. I’m sure it won’t kill him to wait a few minutes. I’m a stud remember, it won’t take me long.”
How could I forget? So not a funny joke. He’s sick and twisted in the head.
Things have spiralled to worse than what I ever thought possible. I need to figure out a plan. Where can I go? I have nowhere. Rachel and Mark
The water isn’t too bad this morning. Not exactly warm, but not freezing either. I turn off the spray so that Ricky is able to endure a quick wash as well. Wanting to dress hastily, while I still have a little privacy in the bedroom, I dry off and think about what to wear. Casual for the day and leave the dressing up part until the last minute.
When I walk into the bedroom, Joseph is leering at me from the bed and I wrap my towel around me tighter while I search for an outfit.
“So, Ricky’s still asleep.” I cringe at his suggestive tone. At the way he is acting, as though nothing terrible happened last night. As if he didn’t shatter my world. Does he actually think I would want to have sex with the person who molested me while I was unconscious? Is he crazy?
I actually think he may have developed some kind of mental health problem. He’s not the man I married. I don’t understand how we got to this stage. I remember when he took on more hours at work, after we had Ricky. He slowly started to snap at me more. At first, I was shocked, then I tried to rationalize that it was because he was under a lot of stress. I reasoned that things would get better.
If friends or family ever saw any odd behaviour, which wasn’t very often, I made excuses for him. I’m not sure if I was trying to fool them or myself, probably both. His accusations and actions caused me severe embarrassment. I wanted to hide it from the world. I wanted to cover it all up. He never had to ask me to do so. If they ever heard all the vile things he said, I was convinced they would believe it.
Things started to slowly worsen and for a while, I deluded myself into thinking I could fix it. By the time I realised I couldn’t, I was trapped in a situation that I have no idea how to handle.
I wonder what people would say if I told them, my husband raped me last night. I can imagine their reply, ‘ How could a husband rape his wife?’ ‘You’re married. Sex is part of that relationship.’ Or maybe, ‘ That is ridiculous, he’s such a sweet man, maybe he just misunderstood your unwillingness .’
I turn my back on him without answering. My voice isn’t strong enough to come out anyway. I walk on shaky legs to the closet in a rush to find some clothes. My carefully planned outfit choices for the day go out the window as I reach for the first thing I can find, my Nirvana tee and a pair of jeans.
I’m obviously not fast enough though, as I feel Joseph’s hot breath down my neck. His fingers trace around the top of the towel, trying to loosen it, and his eagerness presses up against my backside. I inch forward, creeping away from his touch, but he follows and leans back in. He urges me with that sickly sweet tone, “No need to get dressed yet, baby.”
I have a death grip to hold the protective barrier wrapped around me in place. “I’m a little sore,” I manage to choke out.
“I must be a bit of a stud then, hey?” He places chaste kisses along my shoulder blades. His lips hold no warmth. Instead they shoot cold fear through me. I can’t fathom how or why he is pleased with himself that he hurt me.
Wouldn’t it do better things for his pride, if he caused me great pleasure instead of pain? What did I do to deserve treatment like this?
Ricky’s sweet little voice floats through the door, “Mummy, I’m hungry.” While Joseph is distracted, I step away.
“I’ll be right there Ricky, just a second.” My voice wobbles and I will my feet to move further away from Joseph.
“There are locks on the door you know, Roxi. I’m sure it won’t kill him to wait a few minutes. I’m a stud remember, it won’t take me long.”
How could I forget? So not a funny joke. He’s sick and twisted in the head.
Things have spiralled to worse than what I ever thought possible. I need to figure out a plan. Where can I go? I have nowhere. Rachel and Mark
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