Cold-Blooded Beautiful by Christine Zolendz Read Free Book Online

eyes.
    David’s Glock was steady, aimed right for my head.  The only thing I could think about was my baby inside of me, and protecting her.  I needed to talk my way out of this.  “David…”
    “You are my wife.  I own you .  I know every little thing about you, your fears, your wants and needs.  I know what makes you dripping wet, Samantha.  You like it when I make you dripping wet, right, Sam?  You can’t go anywhere, Sam.  If you do, I will fucking find you.  I will hunt you down like a fucking deer and shoot you right between the eyes.  Are you afraid of me now?”
    Oh, my God, he’s crazy .  “Yes, David.  I’m…I’m afraid,” I stammered, blinking back tears as he touched the cold barrel of the gun to my throat. My pulse beat against the metal, moving his hand in small quick tremors.  One small pull of the trigger, a mere six pounds of pressure, and my jugular would be blown to shit, and no one would find me, he’d be brilliant about it, I was sure.  Feed his ego, but don’t let him see you cry . I refused to give him the satisfaction of watching my tears fall.
    Ominous whiskey colored eyes gleamed and danced with the sight of my fear.  The sick fuck was reveling in it. 
    My husband, the man I once vowed to spend the rest of my life with, was a monster.  I was shocked.  And, don’t ask those stupid condescending questions people always think when they hear about a husband abusing his wife – Why didn’t you just leave?  Why were you so weak?  Didn’t you see it coming? There are no universal domestic violence guidelines. There aren’t any fucking abuse checklists that us girls sit around and learn about in a high school class, or an orientation of relationships 101. I had a strong sense of self. I had decent self-esteem. I’d fought in fucking wars and I’d seen and done things not many women ever did.  And, I sure as shit didn’t see this coming.
    It did happen all at once with David and me. I was in love with him, but I had a separate life than him.  I had a career, an ambitious demanding career, and so did he.  He never hit me, never got jealous, and never showed me anything but complete adoration .  Until he didn’t … Little things changed at first, and you don’t see them at once, only in hindsight.  Only then, when I stood with a gun to my throat and his finger on the trigger. Hindsight is a bitch isn’t it? It loves to come back and fuck you from out of nowhere.
    I’ve seen him belittle and demean the sweetest nurses and orderlies at the hospital.  I’ve watched him once, and only once, get jealous and snap my cell phone in half, when a fellow soldier called me while on leave in the city wanting to get together for coffee.  It was little things that became clear and pronounced that very minute.  Just a handful of tiny things and the rest was a perfect husband, or at least the facade of one .
    “Take off your clothes,” he demanded, sliding the gun up my cheek to stop on my temple.  A hundred panic filled scenarios filled my mind, the loudest one being him forcing himself on me, and I, Lorena-Bobbitt the motherfucker.  Yes, in a heartbeat, I would bite that dick right off.  The shock and sheer pain he’d be in would give me plenty of time to get to the door. I prayed like hell he’d put the gun down, Because other than the Bobbitt situation, I couldn’t fight him. The gun was too close, and the life of my baby, too precious.
    “Take off your fucking clothes!” he roared louder.
    Now, there’s a huge fucking difference between taking off your fucking clothes, and trying to outsmart him, and outright dying at the hands of a madman, so I just did what he said.  Because seriously, if I refused him, was that the way I want the world to find me in the end?  No, sorry, that’s not the way I want my story to end.  Let’s go for what’s behind curtain number two.  I get it, I truly do, the thoughts that are running around in your head right now: