He had hit her with his belt.
She was crying now. She didn't want to, but she couldn’t help it. She was hurting, she was mortified, she was angry. It was all too much for her brain to comprehend.
“Do. You. Understand?” he over enunciated each word.
“Yes,” she hiccupped through her tears. Common sense had won out over her pride. How badly would he hurt her if she didn't say what he wanted her to? Her goal had to be to stay alive, and if that meant giving in and playing along maybe she would have to learn how to do that.
“Good girl,” his tone gentled, and his hand softly rubbed over her smarting bottom.
“I don’t like to punish you, Georgia. It brings me no pleasure, but you must learn. A woman’s place is to take care of her man, she must be obedient, she must put his pleasures and wants and needs above her own, she doesn’t speak without permission. She should be quiet, respectful, thoughtful, kind, and good. When you have learned how to be these things then you will be able to leave this room and fulfill your duties as my princess. You will cook for me and clean, you will do my laundry, you will provide educated conversation about suitable topics, and you will attend to my sexual needs.”
He said it so simply like it was a forgone conclusion. Like what he was expecting of her was common and every woman behaved that way.
“Do you understand?”
It was a test. She knew that. To see if she was ready to fulfill her obligations and do as she was told. If she didn't reply, he would hit her again. Or worse. “Yes,” she answered meekly.
“Good,” he said approvingly, then released his hold on her and stood her up. “There is ointment in the bathroom, you may put that on yourself, then dress, do your hair and makeup, and join me for lunch. I will choose your outfits until you are better aware of what is suitable for which occasions.”
In shock, Georgia just stood there with her underwear down around her knees and her nightgown bunched at her hips as Leo stood and crossed to her closet. He pulled out a mauve satin blouse and a white cotton skirt, a pair of heels, and a pair of pantyhose and brought them all to her.
Unable to see another option, she took the clothes and timidly walked toward the bathroom. What else could she do? She was afraid of what he would do to her if she didn't comply.
Before she closed the bathroom door, she saw the smug smile on his face as he watched her follow his orders.
He thought he had won.
But she wouldneverlet him win.
She would kill him rather than submit and become his version of the ideal woman.
* * * * *
5:39 P.M.
For some reason she didn't feel like being alone tonight.
Rylla parked in her best friend’s driveway and climbed out of her car. For a moment she just stood and stared up at the sky.
As a child the sky had perplexed her. You could stare at it forever, but never see the end of it. Did it have an end? Could you get to the end? If you got in a spaceship and just kept flying, could you go on forever? And if you did get to the end, what would it look like?
She would spend hours watching the sky change color, she would sneak out of bed early in the morning to watch the sun rise, and the sky go from dark to light, then yellow and red and pink and gold. Then you would blink, and the sky would be blue again. During the day she would lie on her back in the backyard and watch the clouds change shape as they floated across the sky. She would search for animals or things in the shapes and make up stories to go with what she saw.
She had no idea where this sky obsession had come from, but sometimes when she was stressed, or tired, or sad she would revert back to seeking solace from watching the great, endless expanse. It made her feel both big and small, and sometimes she needed the reminder that there was more to life than her and her pain.
She drew in one more deep breath then headed inside. She had a key to Naomi and Sam’s house and never bothered to knock. Besides, she had already called Naomi and said she’d be coming over for dinner. Sometimes after a hard day at work, she just couldn’t stomach going home alone to her big empty house. On those days she used to call up Naomi and the two of them would go for a run, or to the gym, or hang out and talk work, but now that her friend was married, they didn't hang out as often as they used to. Rylla didn't like to intrude. While she couldn’t be happier that Naomi had found happiness after everything she had been through, it did increase her own loneliness.
Naomi was sitting on the sofa with her feet propped up and a book resting on her huge pregnant belly. “Glad to see you’re taking it easy.”
Her friend looked up and made a face. “Sam won't let me help cook dinner,” she said as she put her book down and struggled to her feet.
“How is it possible that you look bigger every time I see you?” Rylla asked as she went and helped Naomi stand. If it wasn't for her oversized stomach, you couldn’t even tell Naomi was almost nine months pregnant. She still worked out every day. After almost losing her life three times in a year, Naomi had worked hard to regain her strength.
Naomi smiled then said, “Sam’s making pizza for dinner, and some sort of chocolate stuffed crust pizza concoction for dessert. He’s on a chocolate kick at the moment, I think it’s because he’s nervous about becoming …”
Rylla frowned as her friend trailed off and didn't finish her sentence. Naomi rarely talked about her pregnancy when they were together. “It’s okay to talk about it, I'm excited for you,” she said quietly. She appreciated her friend’s concerns, but she was genuinely thrilled for Naomi and Sam.
“I know you are, but I also know this might be hard for you.” Naomi’s brown eyes were watching her cautiously as though she suspected Rylla might burst into a fit of tears any moment now.