“That motherfucker thinks he can cheat me and get away with it. Well, he can’t.”
I knew that look well; it was the same look he wore whenever he was about to do something stupid. Something that would require Cillian to step in to clean up after him.
Again.
I sighed and pushed him down into a kitchen chair, hoping a little TLC would soothe his wounded ego. “Let me get you some ice to take down the swelling.”
“I don’t need no fucking ice, Sadie. I need that ten grand.”
I turned in surprise. “Ten thousand dollars?” Who on earth played cards for so much money? I knew people at the casinos did serious gambling, but who risked that kind of cash just for fun?
Colm scoffed. “It’s nothing, and the amount isn’t the fucking point. That money is mine, and he stole it from me.”
He’d lost it; even I knew that much. Colm had no sense when it came to cards. He was superstitious and discounted the importance of being able to read your opponents, two skills I’d learned from too many hours spent with Uncle Seamus.
“I’m sure you’ll win double that tomorrow.” I wasn’t sure at all, but that was what a good wife did, right? She lifted her husband up when he was low, boosted him so he would do better the next day.
For my efforts, I was rewarded with the hardest backhand I’d ever felt.
“Don’t fucking patronize me, Sadie!” His voice was a loud, angry roar, and I looked up at him in wide-eyed shock, afraid to move from the cold marble floor. I couldn’t believe he just hit me. Colm, my sweet and loving husband, had just hit me.
My cheek stung like hell, and I was terrified to even lift my hand to touch my cheek.
“Fuck!” He looked down at me half in anger and half in shock, but he brushed off the latter and continued to glare at me. “Get off the goddamn floor. Where’s dinner?”
And just like that, the abuse started and never ended. Colm went to wash up for dinner, and when he returned, it was like the backhand never happened. He wore a gentle smile and told me I looked pretty, but the words didn’t touch me the way they had just twenty-four hours before.
“I said you look real pretty today, Sadie.”
“Thank you,” I responded, my words stiff and insincere.
“What’s for dinner, babe?” He flashed that same grin that looked more sinister than charming on that night.
“Uhm, pot roast and vegetables. And I baked some bread” I tried to make my voice sound upbeat and light because I was determined to do what millions of women before me had done, without even knowing the role I’d fallen into.
It was a one-off, I told myself.
He’d only done it because he was so angry over being cheated.
Ten thousand dollars was a lot of money, which was why it happened.
He was drunk. Sober Colm would never hit me.
I made up every fucking excuse in the book for the backhand that stole my sense of security. But it instilled in me a deep sense of fear that I hadn’t known was there until Colm died.
After dinner that night, Colm came up behind me while I loaded the dishwasher and kissed my neck. The feel of his lips on my skin didn’t cause the same rush of emotions it once had. It didn’t send the fires of lust surging through my veins. Instead, I flinched.
“Oh babe, don’t be afraid of me. I’m sorry, Sadie, I didn’t mean it.”
“I know,” I told him softly, happy to hear that my justifications for his behavior were spot on.
“It won’t happen again, I promise.”
It did happen again. The next night when he lost another ten thousand dollars.
And the night after that because his mashed potatoes were cold.
Then there was a three-day break, and I again convinced myself it was because he’d had another run of bad luck. The problem was Colm had nothing but bad luck with days of not-so-shitty luck, and sooner or later, another bad streak popped up and his fists went flying.
A week later, he asked me to fuck Marsden in payment for another debt.
I refused, shocked at his request. “You can let that high school prick fuck you for free, but you can’t do this to help your husband out of a tight spot?”
For standing up to him, he left me black and blue everywhere but my face.
From that moment on, I learned to never refuse.
I used my body to pay off his debt, foolishly believing it would be the first and last time.
That night I made plenty of mistakes that I would live to regret, time and time again, until I had enough and learned my fucking lesson.
It had taken decades, but once I finally learned those lessons, there was no going back. I wouldn’t take any more shit from people once I stopped taking their shit.