wear only for him.
I watch what I eat and work out every day so my body is still attractive to him. But he doesn’t care, it’s not like he’s around often enough to see it. I pick out a few more shirts and pants and stuff them in the suitcase as well. I walk back into my room and put on my leather boots, glancing at myself as I walk past the mirror. I’m wearing a black cashmere sweater and leggings; I spent two hours curling my hair. I look nice. Stupid me, actually believing he’d be home when he said he would, waiting for him.
My cell phone starts to ring again. On impulse, I walk out onto the balcony and drop it off the side with satisfaction. That’ll stop it from ringing.
Feeling much better, I go back into my room and try to zip my suitcase, but it’s too full. Of course, folding everything neatly would solve that problem, but I’m in no mood to mess with that crap. I stomp on the lid with my boot until everything is finally squashed enough to get it zipped up.
I grab the leather jacket that he bought me while on our honeymoon and throw it across the room. The thought of wearing it sickens me. In the closet, I find another one that I bought myself. I grab my suitcase. It’s a big one, stuffed full and heavy as hell. Thank God it rolls, or I’d have serious trouble. I drag it out into the hall to the top of the stairs. I turn it on its side and give it a good shove. It stops halfway, so I kick it the rest of the way down.
At the bottom, I grab the handle and roll it to the door. I look around at what I once thought was a beautiful penthouse, with its huge picture windows, boutique furniture, and state-of-the-art electronics. In my mind, though, all I can see now are barred windows and a cold bed—the prison where I remained silent, well that's a lie, I have caused a lot of hell but nothing unwarranted. I can feel the tears forming in my eyes, and I try to fight them back. I really shouldn’t cry; he’s not worth it.
Losing the battle, I reach up to wipe away the tears and catch sight of the spectacular ring on my finger. It means nothing. I pull it off, and slam it down on the console table next to the door, precisely where he sets his keys when walks in. At least he won’t be able to miss that.
Taking a deep breath, I open the door and head to the elevator, pulling my bag behind me. There’s really no need to lock the door. Security here is better than a Vegas casino, so the chances of the apartment being robbed are slim. Not to mention we’re over ten stories up. I press the button and step back to wait, fidgeting with my hair.
I don’t even know where I’m going. I mean, the logical place would be my Aunt Raven’s, but I’m not sure that’s where I want to go. Instead of showering me with hugs and kisses, she’ll probably shower me with questions and opinions. Questions like ‘What’s going on?’ and comments like, “You really should talk to him.” I’m not in the mood for that kind of shit right now. Still, I have no plan at this point. I’ll have to figure something out to tell her. I need to think about what I want and what I’m going to do. I’ve been with Cal so long that I can’t remember what it’s like being without him. I’ve wrapped myself up in him, something that no woman should do with any man.
The elevator has arrived. I drag my suitcase in and hit the garage floor button. I hate the way my stomach feels as it’s going down, reminding me of the butterflies Cal used to give me when we first met. Finally it stops and the door opens to the parking garage. Cal hates for me to come down here alone, but I always remind him that there are cameras everywhere and Jeff, the security guard I’ve just waved at, watches everything like a hawk.
I head down to our parking spaces and over to the white Mercedes Cal bought me for my birthday. I remember getting up that morning, being blindfolded and led downstairs. There, I found a jewelry box and opened it to find a
I watch what I eat and work out every day so my body is still attractive to him. But he doesn’t care, it’s not like he’s around often enough to see it. I pick out a few more shirts and pants and stuff them in the suitcase as well. I walk back into my room and put on my leather boots, glancing at myself as I walk past the mirror. I’m wearing a black cashmere sweater and leggings; I spent two hours curling my hair. I look nice. Stupid me, actually believing he’d be home when he said he would, waiting for him.
My cell phone starts to ring again. On impulse, I walk out onto the balcony and drop it off the side with satisfaction. That’ll stop it from ringing.
Feeling much better, I go back into my room and try to zip my suitcase, but it’s too full. Of course, folding everything neatly would solve that problem, but I’m in no mood to mess with that crap. I stomp on the lid with my boot until everything is finally squashed enough to get it zipped up.
I grab the leather jacket that he bought me while on our honeymoon and throw it across the room. The thought of wearing it sickens me. In the closet, I find another one that I bought myself. I grab my suitcase. It’s a big one, stuffed full and heavy as hell. Thank God it rolls, or I’d have serious trouble. I drag it out into the hall to the top of the stairs. I turn it on its side and give it a good shove. It stops halfway, so I kick it the rest of the way down.
At the bottom, I grab the handle and roll it to the door. I look around at what I once thought was a beautiful penthouse, with its huge picture windows, boutique furniture, and state-of-the-art electronics. In my mind, though, all I can see now are barred windows and a cold bed—the prison where I remained silent, well that's a lie, I have caused a lot of hell but nothing unwarranted. I can feel the tears forming in my eyes, and I try to fight them back. I really shouldn’t cry; he’s not worth it.
Losing the battle, I reach up to wipe away the tears and catch sight of the spectacular ring on my finger. It means nothing. I pull it off, and slam it down on the console table next to the door, precisely where he sets his keys when walks in. At least he won’t be able to miss that.
Taking a deep breath, I open the door and head to the elevator, pulling my bag behind me. There’s really no need to lock the door. Security here is better than a Vegas casino, so the chances of the apartment being robbed are slim. Not to mention we’re over ten stories up. I press the button and step back to wait, fidgeting with my hair.
I don’t even know where I’m going. I mean, the logical place would be my Aunt Raven’s, but I’m not sure that’s where I want to go. Instead of showering me with hugs and kisses, she’ll probably shower me with questions and opinions. Questions like ‘What’s going on?’ and comments like, “You really should talk to him.” I’m not in the mood for that kind of shit right now. Still, I have no plan at this point. I’ll have to figure something out to tell her. I need to think about what I want and what I’m going to do. I’ve been with Cal so long that I can’t remember what it’s like being without him. I’ve wrapped myself up in him, something that no woman should do with any man.
The elevator has arrived. I drag my suitcase in and hit the garage floor button. I hate the way my stomach feels as it’s going down, reminding me of the butterflies Cal used to give me when we first met. Finally it stops and the door opens to the parking garage. Cal hates for me to come down here alone, but I always remind him that there are cameras everywhere and Jeff, the security guard I’ve just waved at, watches everything like a hawk.
I head down to our parking spaces and over to the white Mercedes Cal bought me for my birthday. I remember getting up that morning, being blindfolded and led downstairs. There, I found a jewelry box and opened it to find a
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