So it's my second fanfic... If you've read my first one, be warned, the two are nothing alike! That was more of a light comedy. This one is Rated M throughout. I just really needed to push this one out of my head... After I saw Emma's therapy session and people speculating if she had been abused, I figured I'd go off that notion... But there are two ideas in my head. I just started this one first.

"Carl, just calm down -"

"Where the hell were you?" Carl pushed Emma roughly against the living room wall. Emma winced before looking up at him, or his mouth, rather; she was too afraid to look him in the eyes. She was confused; she had gotten home about five minutes ago, at 5:37. She was usually home by 4:00, but of course, there was a meeting with a parent that had run a little over schedule. Carl thought this was a bogus excuse. "Emma, I'm only gonna ask one more time. Where the fuck were you?" Emma's heartbeat quickened as she bit her lip. "I-I told you, I had a meeting-" He slapped her hard across the face. Emma whimpered as Carl grabbed her shoulders and pinned her to the wall. The bruise on her back that she had acquired from earlier this weekend sent a blunt pain through her spine. "I don't think you're telling the truth, baby." Emma closed her eyes, trying hard to keep her heart rate normal. Ever since Carl started getting rough with her, she had been getting these breathing spells; she would hyperventilate and usually end up passing out wherever she was. They didn't always come when Carl was around. Sometimes they would be when she was sleeping, or reading a book. Once it happened at work. Sue had found her standing in the corner of her office, propped up against the wall and breathing quickly. When Mr. Figgins had inquired about the incident, she simply told him she had asthma. She hated it, those spells, and she could tell it was taking a toll on her health.

Carl grabbed her throat and squeezed. "Look at me." Emma gasped and opened her eyes, her pulse increasing as soon as she did. "You were with Will, right?" Emma apprehensively shook her head no. Carl looked her up and down, as though looking for evidence to convince him otherwise. "Prove it."

"Wha- No-"

Carl grabbed her wrists and pinned them over her head with one hand. She tried to get free, but it didn't do much. With his other hand, Carl pushed up her skirt and reached between her thighs. Emma gasped as he stuck two fingers inside of her. "Carl!" she shrieked. Carl went further into her. She muffled a moan and bit her lip. She knew what he wanted. It was the same every time. The satisfied look he gave, her desperate cry for mercy, the way he got off to it... It infuriated her. She tried so hard not to let it happen, but... A couple of tears slipped down Emma's face. She looked away, hoping he wouldn't see, but it was too late. Carl removed his hand. "We have a function in a half hour. Get ready." He kissed her cheek and began walking away. After a few strides, he turned around again and looked her up and down. "Wear that black dress I like."

"Come on, come on..." Emma pressed more concealer onto her neck, where Carl's hands had left a bruise. She slammed the makeup down on the vanity and looked at herself in the mirror. She blinked back tears. What she saw disgusted her. Her skin was pale and lifeless, unlike the sun-kissed glow she had worn before. Her eyes were dark, and her face looked gaunt. A few tears slipped down her face. What did she do to deserve this? It had begun about two weeks ago. She thought about the first day, and what happened...

Emma hummed along to a country song playing softly in the kitchen as she stirred the pasta. She was making Carl's favourite; Italian roasted chicken with pesto pasta. She wouldn't eat it, of course, she was a vegetarian, but she would be satisfied with the pasta alone. Emma looked at the clock on the wall; 6:46. Carl should be home any minute, she thought to herself. She went to the wine rack and scanned it quickly before pulling out a bottle of Chardonnay. She popped it open and put it on the dining room table, then went back to the pasta and served it on two plates. Carl would love it, she just knew it. He had been stressed lately; his father had been diagnosed with leukemia, and had no one to take care of him. Carl had hired a nurse, but it was getting expensive. Emma had tried to talk to him about things, but he always ended the conversation. So, she thought of a dinner, just to let him know that she cared.

Emma heard the door open. "Emma?" a voice called out. She grabbed two wine glasses and filled them. "Hey, honey," she called out cheerily. Carl entered the kitchen. Emma grabbed the wine glasses and walked over to him. She kissed him lightly, then handed him a glass. "What's all this?" he asked quietly. "I made your favourite!" Carl didn't reply, but simply looked around. Emma looked up at him, waiting for a thank you, or anything, rather, but nothing came. "Um... I-I thought you'd like it. If you're not hungry, it's okay, I can -"

"No, it's fine. Thank you. I'm gonna change really quick, I'll be back." Emma watched as he put his cell phone and keys down on the table and walked away. His reaction shocked her and, more importantly, hurt. An hour and a half was spent scavenging for exotic spices rare in Ohio, and another two actually cooking, but for what? A cheeky attitude and a kiss. She turned back to the plates and put hers down, then his next to his wine and phone. Suddenly, his phone began to vibrate. She looked at the caller ID; it was someone named Sophie calling. She looked around for Carl, then grabbed the phone. She began to answer it, then decided against it. Though she wanted to, she knew that if she did, she wouldn't know what to say. Emma watched it vibrate in her hand. Finally, it stopped ringing. The voicemail sign popped up. She pressed it, then held the phone to her ear and walked back into the kitchen. "You have ONE NEW VOICEMAIL," the automated woman said. "Hey, Carl, it's Sophie, from the bar. I was thinking, maybe you can come over to my place later this week? I don't know, whenever you're free. 'Kay, call me. Bye." Emma exhaled and licked her lips, then hung up the phone and returned it to its original position. She sat down as Carl entered. Emma wanted to run to him, slap him, scream, and cry, but she couldn't. Why would she? It wouldn't do anything except make her look stupid and immature. Besides, she didn't have anything to accuse him of. Not really. So, instead, she took a sip of her wine calmly as he sat across from her.

"How was your day?" she asked politely as the two ate. "Fine. Nothing exciting." Emma nodded. My day was great, thanks for asking, she thought to herself. Carl took a swig of his wine, finishing most of it. Emma watched as he refilled his glass. "Who's Sophie?" she asked quietly. Carl looked up at her. "What?" Emma looked down, not sure how to go about this. She took a small bite of her food. For some reason, she wasn't so hungry anymore. "Sophie called. She wants you to go over to her place sometime this week." Carl snatched the napkin from the table and wiped his mouth. "Why were you in my phone?" Emma scoffed at his intent to divert the issue. "You're my husband, Carl. I think -"

Carl slammed a hand down on the table, frightening Emma. She looked up at him, taken aback. "Don't ever go through my stuff, Emma." Emma rolled her eyes and got up from the table. "Where are you going? Emma?" Emma headed towards her room. She couldn't believe the audacity he had to talk to her like that. Carl got up and followed her. "Don't you walk away from me!" He grabbed her arm and turned her around. "Let go of me!" she shouted as she tried to pull away. Carl tightened his grip on her arm. "Ow, Carl..." she whimpered. Emma looked down at her arm. The area he had a grip on her began turning red. He let go of her arm. "Don't you ever walk away from me!" His hand connected with her cheek. Emma yelped and clasped a hand to her face. With a dark look in his eye, Carl grabbed her chin domineeringly. "I don't wanna hurt you, Emma," he said softly. Emma looked up at him, her eyes filling with tears. "But... You can't do whatever you want." A few tears fell down her face. Carl smirked a bit, angering Emma. "Sleep in the guest room tonight." With that, he walked away, leaving a battered Emma to cry in the living room.

Emma hastily wiped away her tears as Carl entered the room. He draped a tie around his neck as Emma stood up and headed for her purse on the bed. "Em." Emma turned around. "Y-Yeah?"

"Tie my tie, would you?" Emma exhaled, relieved that she hadn't done anything wrong. She walked over to him and worked on his tie as he looked her up and down. "You look great," he said, rubbing her ribs and hips with his hands. "Thank you." She felt as though she looked horrible. The dress Carl had wanted her to wear was not her style. It was a small black sweetheart dress. The back ended quite low in a V, about halfway down her back, revealing her prominent shoulder blades. It was form fitting and short, ending mid-thigh, and the neckline wasn't as modest as she'd like, either. Carl had bought it for her a while back, but she had only worn it a few times. "You know, Emma, you can tell me if you're cheating on me. I won't leave you." Emma clenched her jaw shut. So many thoughts rushed into her mind, but she couldn't say any of them. "Emma." she looked up at him. "Have you been fucking someone?" She paused for a minute. The thought to strangle him with his tie went through her head, but she decided against it. She continued. "Just you." That seemed to satisfy him. He kissed her softly on the forehead. "I love you, Emma." Emma looked down. "Do you believe me?" he asked. Emma glanced up and nodded. Carl grinned and kissed her on the lips this time. He grabbed her hips and pulled her close to him. She knew what he was trying to do. When they used to kiss, or have sex, or even cuddle, it was romantic and passionate. Now, it was tedious and usually uncomfortable for her. She would love it if it were the same, if his touch made her skin prickle in affection instead of fear. She closed her eyes as he moved to kissing her collarbone, hoping some of the spark they once had would come back, but nothing came. She sighed as he grabbed the edge of her dress. "Carl..." He bit her clavicle roughly, making her wince. "We have to go," Emma said softly. He sighed. "Fine. Later." He grabbed his tux jacket and walked out of the room. Emma watched him leave, then grabbed her purse and followed him.