Prologue
He's in a good mood. Thank goodness. Maybe he'll take the news better.
Mustering all the courage in my body, I open my mouth to speak but quickly clamp it shut. I'm terrified, and my heart is pounding like a sledge hammer in my chest. I reflect back to the words in the book. It says, "We all have a purpose in life, but only the brave relentlessly pursue its fulfillment."
I'm brave. I can do anything I put my mind to. I'll fulfill my dream. I'll have a supermarket of my own. Each inward proclamation I make bolsters my courage.
I walk up to him where he's sitting on the sofa watching TV. Opening my mouth, the words I rehearsed over and over again rush out unwaveringly.
"I saw a space for rent today. The price the landlord called was cheap so I um"—my confidence falters—"I... uh well decided, why not open the supermarket I always dreamed of! You know, this might be my only chance at fulfilling my dream...uh...I mean, the price is affordable and all." I try to squeeze down the lump in my throat but it just won't budge. "I went ahead and signed the lease. Tomorrow I'll start fixing it up, and I plan on opening the store within the next few weeks."
With bated breath, I wait for his response. He continues to watch TV, and I start to wonder if he heard me. His jaw muscle twitches. Yes, he heard me. I think he's trying to control his anger. He turns off the TV but continues to stare straight ahead at the black screen. My chest constricts, making the simple act of breathing suddenly a very difficult task. He leans forward and calmly rests the remote control on the coffee table, too calmly for comfort. Then he turns to me. Oh fuck! His eyes blaze with rage. Leaving no second to idle, he leaps to his feet and makes a beeline for me.
"Dave, I—"
He backhands me. I yelp and immediately cover the stinging flesh with my hand. Before I can recover, he slaps me again, his palm resting flat on the surface of my left cheek. The flesh burns.
"You went behind my back and signed a lease?" he roars.
I'll fulfill my dream. I'll get my store, I say inwardly, reinforcing my courage. I remove my hand and stare up at him, boldly. His nostrils flare. It's clear that my boldness has angered him even more. He slaps me again, harder. My eardrum rings from the force of impact.
"You're stupid and dumb. You don't know anything about owning a business. What the fuck is wrong with you, Annie?" He shoves at my chest. The sheer force of the move not only knocks the air out of my lungs, but sends me flying like a broken toy to the floor. "You're one stupid bitch!" he shouts, marching over to me.
Gasping for breath, I try to scramble to my feet, but fear has somehow crippled my legs, making the move futile. "Dave, I—"
Once again, my words are frozen short. Reaching down, he seizes a fistful of my long hair and hauls me up to my feet.
"Ahh..." I howl in pain.
My hands immediately fly to his curled fingers, and frantically, I begin to tear them off my hair. Oh God. The pain in my head is excruciating, and somehow, it seems to have exploded into a million pieces with each piece plunging down the column of my neck and spreading like quicksilver throughout my body.
"You'll fail!" he bellows over my voice, drowning out my screams of agony.
He slaps me again and again, the force tossing me from side to side like a mindless object. The tender flesh on my cheek begins to feel as if a raging wildfire has taken hold of it, burning its way deeper and deeper into my flesh.
"No one will take you seriously, Annie. I told you before, no one will want to do business with you."
"Dave, please..."
My eyes start to sting painfully at the corners, as the tears, welling up inside them, threaten to fall. Don't cry Annie, I tell myself. Leaking any tears right now would only show vulnerability, and that's the last thing I need Dave to see. But despite the self-talk, the urge to cry has become unbearable. Thankfully, just as I'm about to crumble, like a lifeline, the words in the book come rushing to my aid. "You'll be tested over and over again, to prove you are deemed worthy of success…"
No, I can do this.
He smacks me again. "Where are you going to find suppliers? When they see you, they'll laugh. A woman wants to wade in the men's pool," he snorts, mockingly.
The hitting continues in succession, knocking me to the ground once more. Inwardly, I reinforce my resolve to fulfill my dream, yet again.
"You'll embarrass me. When my friends hear that you've grown balls, they'll laugh at me. Don't you know women don't know anything? They're stupid and dumb fucks. What makes you think you're different from the pack?"
He fires a kick, and the blow lands squarely on my stomach. Silently, I repeat my dream over and over again, suppressing the sweeping pain that suddenly envelopes my stomach.
"No one will want to work for you. Who's going to work for a woman? Nobody wants to take orders from a woman. I told you to give up this stupid dream of yours. I'm trying to save you from all the problems you'll encounter, but no, you went behind my back and signed a fucking lease."
He seizes my right arm and hauls me up from the floor.
"Oh God!" I wail. A new wave of pain shoots through my arm, and I pray that my bone wasn't dislodged.
"Look at you," he laughs, sarcastically. "You're weak. What a fucking joke. You can't even handle me much less a business."
His words of mockery sting me all the way to my core. Intense anger surges through my body, and I face him again, more determined than ever to prove myself.
The perfect adrenaline.
From the corner of my eye, I spy the glass vase on the coffee table. For the first time in my life, I feel an unwavering determination to fight back, to put an end to my pain. With adrenaline pumping through my veins, I lunge toward the vase. He tries to grab me, but I'm faster. Grabbing the vase, I smash it against the table and aim the pointy object at his throat.
"Enough!" I shout, unleashing my anger. "I'm tired of you. I'm tired of you hitting me and telling me what I should and shouldn't do. I will not allow you to control my life anymore. I've had enough!" I inch the broken glass closer to his throat. "Did you hear what I said? I've had enough!"
Looking straight into his eyes, I say in a voice made heavy by determination, "I'll open my store. Nothing is going to stop me, and that includes you. You can hit me all you want, but I'll always get up and go after my dream. Yes, I know the road ahead will be difficult, but I'm prepared to travel it. So you can either get the fuck out of my way, or this piece of glass will be in your throat!"
Quick as lightning, and before I can register what's happening, his hand shoots out and grabs my neck. Circling his tentacles-like fingers around my neck, he squeezes tightly while his other hand lashes the broken glass out of my hand.
"How dare you?" he growls, eyes blazing with rage. He tightens his grip, and a slew of curses escape his mouth. "How dare you? You're one stupid little bitch! Do you have any idea how badly I want to slam you against the fucking wall and squeeze every bit of motherfucking air from your lungs? Huh? Do you, bitch?"
Gasping for air, I start to pound wildly at his chest.
"You want to kill me? Huh? You fucking want to kill me, Annie? You're cocky as a fucking bull today!"
My eyes feel as if they'll pop any second now.
"Where did you get these balls from?" he growls, shaking me back and forth. "Who did you talk to? Tell me, Annie! Who the fuck did you talk to?"
He glares down at me, waiting for an answer. I can't talk, Dave. Hell, I can't even breathe. I round my mouth, trying desperately to mouth words, but nothing but the gurgling sound of death comes out. My death.
"You don't seem afraid I'll go after your mother. Why?" Then he burst out laughing. "She's not around, is she? Now it all makes sense, this sudden braveness of yours."
Each second that passes seem to last an eternity. Gazing up at him, I start to beg for pity with my eyes, eyes that can no longer hold back the tears from flowing. Please, Dave. Please don't kill me. A cloak of darkness is now starting to blur my vision. Please God, help me. I don't want to die now.
Just as the darkness is about to conquer me, he releases his grip. "Luckily for you, I really don't feel like getting my hands dirty today," he declares dismissively.
Relief gushes over me, and I collapse to the floor, weak but thankful I'm still alive. Gulping lungful after lungful of precious air, I listen to his words as he continues.
"Don't worry. Go ahead and do what the fuck you want to do. I'll be right here and watch as you fail. I can't wait for that day, and something tells me it'll be very soon. That'll be more fun to watch, watching you make an ass of yourself."
Still panting for breath, I eye him warily. He swings around, and with heavy footsteps, he marches toward the bedroom. At the door, he suddenly freezes.
"Oh, and one more thing," he says, twisting around to face me once again. The look on his face is deadly.
"Do not ever threaten me again. If you do, that'll be the last day you take a breath of air, bitch!"