A/N: So after long and very interesting discussions with some lovely ladies on Tumblr, I decided to start writing a backstory for Rita and her relationship with Mark.
Reviews would be greatly appreciated!
The wind battered the tiny figure of the blonde as she walked away from the ED. She pulled her leather jacket tight around her shoulders, tears slipping down her cheeks. She'd never be free of him, not really. How could she be so deluded? He'd always had his iron clad grip around her throat, and now, five years later, that grip hadn't slackened even a little.
How could she have bee so stupid?
She sniffled slightly and quickened her pace, determined to get away from him. She broke into a run, tears blinding her sight. Rita didn't know where she was headed until she got there. The blonde stopped for breath as she reached the bay, her hair blown back from her face by the wind. She took a deep breath, staring out at the black expanse of water that lay in front of her, as rough and as turmoil as the fear and the despair inside her.
Her mind wandered, wondering how on earth she hadn't seen the signs before it had been too late.
The door slammed shut, Rita sighing softly as she busied herself in the kitchen, making herself a cup of tea. She was too tired for this, a drunken husband was the last thing she needed after the shift she'd had.
"Rita. Riiiita! Coo eee!"
"I'm in the kitchen!" she called, rolling her eyes as she heard the drunken drawl from the hallway.
"Ooo! Pop the kettle for me hun-bun."
"Alright!"
Rita flicked the switch on the kettle and pulled a cup from the cupboard, jumping slightly as Mark wrapped his arms tightly around her waist.
"Mark!"
"Whaaaaaat? Can't I give my favourite girl a hug after a long day?"
"Mark you're hurting me sweetheart."
"Ooops." The grip around her waist loosened as she put he coffee and sugar into the cup.
"Look at me." he commanded, Rita spinning obediently on the spot. She smillied at him, hiding a shudder as the stench of his alcohol soaked breath smacked her like a brick in the face.
"How did your shift go?"
"Rubbish. We lost two teenage girls today."
"Where you hanging out with him again?"
"Him?"
"Y'know. The head doctor."
"James?"
"First name basis?"
"He's just a mate Mark."
Rita turned round again reaching for the kettle. The grip around her waist tightened, causing her to gasp out in pain.
"Mark. Mark that really hurts."
"They're never JUST mates Rita. I've seen the way he looks at you."
"Mark let go. Please. You're hurting me."
"He's having you as a bit on the side isn't he?"
"Don't be ridiculous. Please let go."
"ISN'T HE?"
Rita flinched, terror coursing through her.
"No. I promise."
"Then why are you trembling?" he whispered menacingly.
"You're scaring me Mark, that's why. I promise there's nothing going on."
"LIAR!" he released his grip on her waist, spinning her around and pinning her to the wall.
"WHY ARE YOU LYING TO ME?"
"I'm not, I swear I'm not."
Mark struck her across the face, knocking to the ground. Rita let out a sob, her face ringing.
"Mark please-"
He kicked her hard in the stomach, causing her to cry out in pain.
"MARK STOP! PLEASE!"
"THEN STOP LYING TO ME!"
"I'M NOT, I SWEAR I'M NOT!"
Mark knelt beside her, gripping her by the throat. Rita gasped for air, scraping at his hand with her nails.
"M-Mark. P-please. I've never looked at any-one e-else. I-I promise." she choked.
Mark released her, letting her collapse onto the floor, gasping for breath. Her lungs were on fire and she felt dizzy, coughing and spluttering as Mark calmly got to his feet.
"Prove it."
"W-what?"
"Sleep with me. Now."
"A-are you mad? After what you've just- done to me?"
"Did I give you a choice?"
"Y-you can't make me M-Mark."
"Oh yes I can."
Mark was on top of her in an instant. Rita struggled pain coursing through her bruised abdomen, as his hands travelled down to her trouser waistband, tearing at it, his nails ripping her flesh like tissue paper.
"Mark I don't want this."
He ignored her, removing her underwear and flinging them to one side.
"Mark stop!" She fought to wriggle out from underneath him. She couldn't believe this was happening.
Mark silenced her by kissing her roughly, bitong down hard on her lip. Rita cried out in pain, still fighting him. Her husband uzipped his jeans, hastily removing them along with his underpants, discarding both.
"Mark. No." Rita whispered, letting herself go limp as he forced himself upon her.
...
Rita awoke the next mornimg shivering. Wincing, she got up off the kitchen floor and stumbled to the bathroom. She turned on the shower, before sinking ungracefully onto the toilet lid. She ran a hand through her hair before taking a look at herself in the full length mirror. She had a bruise just beneath her eye and her lip was swollen, a deep cut running across it. Gingerly, she lifted her shirt and examined the bruises on her abdomen. They were large and bluey-green, the red gluge marks on her thighs contrasting them harshly.
Sighing heavily she clambered into the shower and washed off the dirt and the grime from the day before. Once washed, dried and dressed she made her way into the living room. Mark was waiting for and stood up as she walked in.
"You ready?" he asked, disturbingly cheerful, as if the night before hadn't happened.
"You what?"
"The football?"
"You are kidding me! Have you seen the state of my face?"
"Oh come on Reets, you're not making a big deal of it are you?"
"Not making a big deal of it? You come home, accuse me of sleeping with another guy, beat the crap out of me, fucked me on the kitchen floor, without my consent, and left me there!"
"I overeacted. I'm sorry, I was drunk."
"You think?"
"Look Reets, I'm sorry. But it was much your fault as mine."
"What?!"
"You were the one giving out mixed messages. I was going to be suspicious."
"I-I-"
Mark wrapped Rita in his arms and kissed the top of her head.
"If you weren't so pally with him I wouldn't have reacted at all."
"You're right. I'm sorry."
"Good girl. So, football then?"
"Sure. Let me just put some makeup on to hide this bruising."
"Alright. But hurry, we'll be late otherwise."
"I will, I promise."
Rita carefully applied some conclear to her bruised cheek and face, content that the situation had been resolved. Mark was right. It was as much her fault as his. Besides, it was the first time he'd acted like that. It's not like he spent all his time beating her.
They were only cuts and bruises after all.