offered her his hand. She took it, but only because she felt she had to and she was so confused she couldn't think otherwise.
He took her to the bed and sat her gently on it. He squatted in front of her and took her face in his rough hands. He wiped her tears away and pressed his forehead to hers. "For the love of God, Amy, don't come out until I tell you to."
She sighed and sagged with relief. He was…tricking them? Trying to make them think he'd beat her. Oh, God, she thought and prayed. Why would he do that?
He lifted and hesitated for just a second before laying his lips to her forehead in a barely-there kiss . Then he left, the belt dragging the floor in his fingertips.
She lay back on the bed and pulled her knees up to her chest. She heard the voices out in the house for a while afterwards, but she just stayed and stared at the wall. She barely blinked. Her eyes hurt from not closing them for so long, but she needed to keep them open. She needed to make absolute certain that this was real.
About an hour or so later she heard the door open. She didn't look that way for fear of what was coming, but it was Roger. He knelt right next to her head that was lying on the edge of the bed and laid his head next to hers, but not too close. He seemed exhausted in more ways than one , the rings under his eyes dark and telling. He hadn't been sleeping, she'd know n that.
"I'm sorry ," was all h is anguished voice said before closing his eyes.
She didn't reply.
She knew he wasn't comfortable, half on the bed half on the floor like that, but she wasn't about to invite him in the bed with her. Not that she was in it. She hadn't slept in the bed under his covers since she'd gotten there. Always rebelliously on top.
She knew he was sorry, it was written all over his worn face. But did that make up for it? Did that make everything that had happened all right? She didn't think so, but she did feel sorry for him. She hated to see people struggle and this man…this monster was struggling with himself.
Most of all, she hated that she was feeling anything for him. The monster was making it very hard to hate him.
~ ~ ~
The morning light streamed in and lit her gorgeous face. Roger stared at her from his point where his head was beside hers…kind of. He was afraid she was going to throw a fit when he came in last night and knelt down, but he just had to be with her in any way that he could. He'd thought fast last night, but if Amy didn't at least start trying to make an effort, he wouldn't be able to protect them forever. They'd place her with someone else if he wasn't deemed fit to be her husband. And the man they would place her with would gladly be the man that they wanted him to be for the chance to get a wife. Roger closed his eyes at that , but opened the m up again quickly. This was the only time he had to look at his wife, in the mornings when she slept so peacefully. At night while she tried to fall asleep, she was restless and anguished, but in t he morning…it was as if she was waking up and expecting this all to be a bad dream. Until her eyes opened she was a peace ful little oval faced girl whose world was normal and brightly lit. When he r eyes opened, she realized the hell she was in. He hated that he was the cause of such change in her. If he could find a way for her to be happy somehow…he'd risk just about anything, but it was impossible.
He was a monster and she was just the princess locked in his tower.
~ ~ ~
Amy stretched and leaned, but stopped quickly when she remembered that she'd let the monster sleep next to her. Well, not really, but kind of. She didn't want to run into him with her arm, but when she opened her eyes, she was alone and grateful for it. She needed to take a step back and rethink things. It was obvious to her that Roger was trying, for reasons not clear, to keep her safe to some extent. She needed to put forth some of her own effort if she wanted to stay alive. Smothering herself in
Learning to Kill: Stories