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Saving Ren(2)
Author: Lesley Jones

I should leave tonight, things have become progressively worse between us over the past couple of months, but he’s never been this violent towards me before.

You’d think at my age it’d be an easy decision to make. I’m forty-four, my kids are grown, but my only income is from my interior design business, and that’s been a bit hit and miss of late due to a lack of effort on my part. I’ve become that woman. I lunch, I get my nails done, my brows and lashes, my hair. I’m not big on the gym, but I enjoy my weekly yoga class. I meet my friends for lunch and drinks, and we have girls’ weekends away. All of this has meant I’ve let my business slide, but I’m good at what I do, and I’m sure I could soon pick up clients old and new if I put the word out I was looking for work.

I have friends, close friends. I have brothers, a sister, and my own two sons, who I know wouldn’t hesitate to help me out. But there's not a single one of them I've told about the deterioration of my marriage over these past few months.

Given time, I thought Jay would change. But now, lying here feeling devastated by my husband's abuse, isolated by the secret I'm keeping from people, I know love and care about me, and devoid of any hope that things are likely to improve, I know I have to get out. I need to escape this marriage. I need to find the woman I used to be or at least a version of her. And to do that, I'm going to have to confide in someone and ask for help.

 

 

Chapter 2

 

 

Lauren

 

As soon as I hear Jay’s key in the front door, I rush to use the heel of my hand to wipe the tears from my face and attempt to compose myself.

Deep breaths.

Relax.

Don’t let him even think you might be awake.

It’s dark, and I know. . . I know he can’t see me, but the irrational part of my brain is scared he’ll somehow know I’m awake. This has been the routine every night since he attacked me almost a week ago.

I contemplated sleeping in one of the spare rooms the night he attacked me, but I’ve done that before, and it just made things worse. Much like the way he dragged me out of the spa the other night, in the past, he’s dragged me from one of the spare rooms and back to our bed, just so he could carry on the fight, and I really don’t think I have any more fight left in me. Thankfully, he’s stayed out late every night since then, and there’s been zero communication between us.

 

Rolling onto my side and into the recovery position, I settle facing away from Jay's side of the bed.

My heart rate picks up as I hear our bedroom door open.

I know exactly what to do as it closes.

I've done this so many times lately it’s become my new normal. That realisation alone has me swallowing back a sob.

Now is not the time for tears. The time for sentimentality is over.

That time has passed.

Deep breaths.

Relax.

Don’t let him even think you might be awake.

I keep my breathing slow and steady, not altering its pattern as he slides into bed beside me.

His hand lands heavily on my waist, and he gives it a squeeze. It takes everything in me not to freeze or attempt to back away from his touch.

I used to crave his touch, used to long for it. It’s a touch that once upon a time, I couldn’t live without. Never imagined I’d have to, let alone want to, but all I can think right now is how dare he. After what he did to me just days ago, without even attempting to make any kind of apology, how dare he come home here and instigate any form of intimacy.

After a minute or two, I make out to twitch, first my leg, then my arm, the way you sometimes do when you’re dreaming or just about to fall asleep, this seems to do the trick. I hear him sigh and turn his back to me.

On the outside, my breaths remain steady. Inside, the sigh I let out is even more significant than his.

When my husband begins to snore, I allow my silent tears to once again fall. I allow the sense of failure to once again wash over me.

Never did I think my life would end up this way.

Never did I think our relationship would take the path it has.

Yeah, it’s always been fiery, right from the beginning it’s been like that. We’re two very passionate people. We love hard and fight dirty. I’m a redhead and have the temper to match. My husband used to duck and then laugh when I threw something at him during the heat of an argument. Then he’d walk away until we’d both calmed down.

Our arguments never lasted long because we’ve never been able to keep our hands off each other. Our make-up sex was as passionate as our arguments and always meant that we’d usually kiss and make up before morning when we did fight. We’d argue, we’d fight, we’d fuck like a pair of crazy people, I’d cry, we’d both say sorry, and then we’d talk things through. It’s not a pattern that’d work for everyone, a lot of couples would probably consider it unhealthy, but it worked for us.

Until it didn’t.

Until it changed.

The arguments became more frequent.

The words we spat more vicious.

The apologies went unspoken.

The make-up sex replaced by violence.

 

For almost a year, Jay has been angry almost all of the time. His anger always directed at me, I’m left never knowing which version of my husband will be walking through the door in the evening. Each of our confrontations becoming more physical. But, instead of ending it with a passionate fucking on the kitchen table as we grind out our apologies, there are fists in my face, bruises around my throat, clumps of hair ripped from my head, but almost worse than all of that, worse than what happened the other night, are the endless days of silence between us.

I live with a permanent knot in my stomach, lump in my throat, and a sense of dread every time my husband walks through the door.

I’m permanently walking on eggshells around him. Too scared to talk in case I say something that pisses him off, and it escalates into another act of violence towards me.

I can’t sleep, I’ve no interest in food, and my nerves are shattered. I’m lost and lonely. I thought he was my best friend, but apparently, I was wrong on that score. Who treats their best friend the way he’s been treating me?

The worst part of all is the not knowing why. I have no idea what’s changed, why this shift in his personality. If he’s fallen out of love with me, why not just ask for a divorce, move on?

My boys have grown up and left home, so we don’t need to stay together for them. Our life together has been good, almost perfect. We’ve always had great friends and a great social life. Jay’s business has been successful to the point I only work when I want to. I’ll take on a client if they seek me out, but other than that, I really have become a lady who lunches.

We’ve done the hard yards. Worked our arses off, raised a family, and now’s the time we should be kicking back and reaping the rewards of all we’ve put into building this life.

Except right now, all I feel is confused, heartbroken, and shattered. My whole world has fallen down around me, and I’m clueless as to why it’s happened.

 

Never did I think I’d become a victim of domestic violence. Never did I think I’d put up with that kind of shit from my husband. But for almost a year, I’ve allowed Jay’s actions towards me to escalate, I should’ve left at the first hair pull, the first squeeze of my throat, my jaw, the first grab of my wrist that left bruises, but I didn’t. In the beginning, I tried to talk, to reason with him. I even attempted to fight back, but I quickly learned that would earn me a harder grab, a tighter squeeze, a more vicious pull of my hair, and now it’s come to this, an all-out assault that left me bruised, bleeding, and curled in the foetal position on my kitchen floor.

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