(Becca)

Squeezing my eyes shut I take a deep breath, sitting on the bed's edge, with the morning sun falling right on me, warming up my face through the bedroom's windows slash glass walls slash huge fancy sliding doors.

This exorbitant luxurious bedroom was once our nest of joy and happiness and this house was once filled with laughter and cheerful life. Now it was just an eccentric golden birds' cage, sad and suffocating.

I never wake up early and I never open the curtains. I am usually lingering in bed till late morning, partly hoping that if I stay still I will stop breathing and it will all be over, partly because of the soreness between my thighs.

Every night his making love was brutal, worse than yesterday and less than tomorrow.

My every day life became a prayer between getting invisible and him not coming home.

But today was a special morning, that kind of morning that changes your life, for most could be in better, for me could be the end.

I clench the plastic tube in my hand, tight, till my knuckles become paper-white, with the same intensity as I squeeze my eyes until the dark of my vision sparkles with thousands of little stars, floating around.

I can't believe I am having another life growing in me. I have always been careful. I have been on pills since I was sold in this cursed marriage by my father but seems faith had other plans.

It is impossible to ever let Lucas be the father of my child, I prefer death. He changed in a way that could only make you run. Run until your feet don't touch the ground, run until you feel exhaustion chocking you, run until you don't smell anymore his scent and you don't catch any glimpse of the man that once was kind and loving and now was just a walking anger.

I hated him.

I hated him for becoming who he was today, I hated him for reminding me every day about the love I lost, I hated him for having me love him still, helplessly, I hated him for stealing from me the joy of carrying his child.

But now it happened and as my life could not have been more fucked up, it brought me to the point I had always tried to avoid.

I feel tears rolling down the face, springing from my closed eyes, although no muscle moves. My body feels lifeless, shoulders fallen, head slightly tilted on left, arms hanging along my sides and hands resting numb on my lap.

My eyes snap opened while my brain suddenly awakes and I turn my look to the bathroom door. There it is my escape, my way out, the redemption of me and my unborn child.

I stand and walk to the bathroom, floating and feeling lightheaded, I reach the medicine locker in the and take out a full bottle of Xanax.

I know. I should fight this. I shouldn't take the easiest way out. I never did, no matter the consequences.

But right now this seems to be the only exit for me and most importantly, for my baby. I will never let an innocent life be fathered by a monster.

I can't stop tears falling, my hand clenches around the bottle of pills and I am having seconds thoughts as I am thinking that if my child choose to be the 1% to be conceived, what rights do I have to take life from it?

Yes, the seeds of my torturer have fathered this child but I don't resent it. I want to feel it, I want to feel it in womb, I want to feel his kicks and give me hard times while he gracefully grows till finally the light of the day will shower it with its first gasps for air in this world.

Him. The first thing coming in my mind. It is a him. I know it.

"Becca!"

I snap out of my thoughts, fear mixed with anger engulfing me. My hands are shaking as I drop the bottle of pills and the next feeling I have is to hide.

I can't take it anymore.

I have faced him and confronted him and held strong against him for two years now, but I can't do it anymore. I can't see anymore those beautiful blue eyes scrutinizing me deep down to my poor soul that can only shatter under the love I still keep for him.

"Rebecca!" he shouts again.

I take a deep breath, clenching my fists and make a mental note that I must be good and obey. Again.

"In here, Lucas," I say in a low voice, exiting the bathroom. I don't look at him although he is quite a sight to enjoy.

He could easily pass as a damn handsome man, tall, broad straight shoulders, strong, worked out arms that I knew so well when grabbing me every night and squeezing me till my lungs empty of air, his hair in long black strands falling sometimes careless in his blue eyes, shading them with daring glares, rough looks while staring at me with distaste.

I've used to believe that it was impossible to ever find a more sensual smile like the one Lucas has. I still do believe that but I haven't seen that smile in a long time.

I had been madly in love with him during our first year of marriage although I loathed my father for selling me into this marriage just to save his dear company, bankrupt by my dear brother.

We were happy then, in our first year. Or at least this was what I thought.

I have been missing that Lucas every single day of our second year of marriage. Until one day when I realized that Lucas who used to love me had died, and I had to face the ugly truth of never finding him again.

It was the day when I told him that I want a divorce. I couldn't take anymore the physical and mental pain, the hate he wreathed over me, the violent sex he started to have with me, the words spoken in disgust every time he would lay his eyes on me.

That night was the hardest I ever faced in our home. He made sex with me the whole night, against me wanting to get out of his room, his house, his life, but wishing to still find deep down that man who loved me once. He fucked me raw at first, almost as a punishment only to love me after but still leaving the bed as soon as we were done.

I almost fainted a few times that night, the way he loved my body, from the crown of my head to the tip of my toes bringing along memories of our lost love breaking my heart in million pieces.

I shouted, cried, begged him to let me go, to stop before I would die because I was sure it was going to be the last night of my life with a drop of dignity left.

He never hit me though. Never.

But the way he was handling me every time, the way he would touch me, kiss me, love me was more painful than a hit leaving bruises on my body as every time he would leave the room without a word, without a look back.

Sometimes I wished he hit me, just not to touch me the way he did, giving me the hope that Lucas, the loving husband will finally emerge to the surface.

The suffering was double, the physical pain and the pain of missing his tender way to love me, draining life out of me.

I was missing my Lucas so much, my palms were aching for him, my lips were always dry, missing his kisses, my body was longing till pain for his touches and my poor heart was crying out loud to love again or to let me be.

Every night he would take me to bed, my mind was going back to Lucas I used love and every painful touch of his was in my mind replaced with one of his caressing hands when he used to ... love me, and by a wicked magic the pain was replicated with tenderness.

It was my only way to make the pain go away, to distract myself from the pool of emptiness he threw me in. I don't think he actually ever loved me, though.

"What were you doing in there?" he asked in a rough, deep voice peeking at me with the corner of his eyes.

I felt cold sweat running down my spine. 'I wanted to kill myself and our child' I wished I could say, to punish him.

He wouldn't give a damn on me, I know, but his child... maybe his child ...

I snap my eyes on the bed where I remember I've left the pregnancy test. I was hyperventilating and did my best to hide it, or he would have never let it go before squeezing the reason of my anxiety out of me.

If he made another step he would definitely see it. And I didn't know what would come next. I was expecting the worst.

He never spoke about babies, even in our first year of marriage he never opened the subject and I never dared to.

I thought it was too early for him although it was quite an age gap between us, twelve years to be exact. I was twenty-one and he was thirty-three when we got married.

I walked towards the bed and sat on the pregnancy test, without a word, laying on my back and grabbing with my left hand the pregnancy test, shoving it quickly under the mattress.

At this point his rough hands grabbing me and hate would be much better than him finding out I was pregnant.

"Becca, I asked you something and you know I don't like to repeat myself," he said coldly.

"I – I was just ... I wanted to take a pill. I am not feeling okay."

He looked at me in disbelieve.

"You've got stocked hundreds of pills in that locker of yours and you never seem to feel better. I don't know why you bother."

I follow him walking towards the window, passing by my bed.

He was wearing sweatpants and a black t-shirt with long sleeves, wrapping his body, showing how good looking his is.

I am still shivering at his sight, I am still getting lost in the icy blue of his eyes and I am still savoring his glares when the madness doesn't take him over.

Sometimes, when his eyes would stare at me, wordless, like trying to read deep inside of my mind, I still believe that Lucas who loved me once was struggling free himself, insanely missing me, but then the wrath would come and all magic and hope disappear.

He wasn't planning to go to the office today or else he would have been gone already, looking dashingly handsome in one of his expensive suits fitting him so damn good.

As I see him closing the distance between us my breath stops.

I knew he was coming towards me and I felt my blood draining out of my body, freezing.

I follow him with my eyes, instincts sharpening to predict his next move.

I used to be so afraid that one day he could hurt me that much with a snap of his hand that I wouldn't have the time to safe my life.

He looked at me, standing next to my bed, tall and straight, as straight and emotionless as his face was.

His blue eyes were piercing mine for a few seconds and my eyes widened.

I haven't seen him staring at me for that long since ... never.

I tried to find a reason in his eyes, but there was nothing.

Blank. Dry. Empty.

Lucas lifted his hand towards me, tilling his head and with his fingers he brushed aside some of my hair strands.

I hiss in expectation, closing my eyes. My body feels stiff and I can't move, waiting him to either fetch me and feast himself from my weaken body or just turn around and leave.

"What did you hide in there?" I hear him saying.

"Nothing!" I answer fast hoping it would be enough.

"Becca, you better tell me before I find out myself."

Tears start falling along my temples, lips quivering.

I know what that means. Locked inside the house for days, nobody to speak with, no phone around, no Lucas at home.

Just enough to push me over a cliff. He brushed gently the tears off my temples and if I didn't know better he could pass for a man in love, a man he cared.

"I am so sorry," I say.

And I really was. I never meant it to happen. I never wished it.

I would have done everything and anything just to become invisible to him, vanish, disappear.

I would have done everything not to become the mother of his child.

That meant bonding us for a life time and all I wished was to get out of this marriage.

I sit up and slide my hand under the mattress and with a tremble of my hand I take the pregnancy test out and hand it to him.

I held my head down as I could not look at him.

I couldn't bear anymore to see the hate in those eyes that used to smile and stare at me with love, used to darken when I was laying my hands flat on his bare chest, used to frown when my cores clenched around his shaft making love way too often.

I stiffed and got ready for his wrath over me, like every time he was around.

He grabs it from my hand.

"Becca, you cannot be pregnant!" his voice was soft, softer than I expected.

It encouraged me to raise my eyes to him and look at his beautiful stunned face.

I knew he didn't want it. Maybe he also wished to get away from whatever type of marriage we had.

"I know I cannot be, but I am. And I have no idea how it has happened. I am on pills. I am on pills for years now. I never missed it. NEVER!" I was shouting, angry with myself to have let this happen.

He kept staring at the test, eyebrows frowned.

"Lucas ..."

"Shut up! Let me think," he said turning his back to me and running a hand through his hair.

He squeezed the pregnancy test burying it in his big palm ... in a protective way?

It felt protective. I could swear it was.

I frown staring at his back as he looks out on the window. This was exactly the opposite of what I expected.

I thought he would be angry, I thought he would take it all on me. Fuck! I even thought about killing myself.

Silence became heavy and none of us dared to speak. He opened his fist and looked down one more time to the little messenger of what I thought would be my end.

"Are you sure? Sometimes these things don't work," his voice flickered.

Words were rolling out his lips and they became soft and worrisome, as if he wished the test wouldn't lie.

Who is this man in front of me? No, something was off.

Lucas that I knew would have turned the house upside down and bury me in it.

"It is the third one I am taking."

"Fuck!" he hissed but he seemed happy as his lips curled up in a smile that I could see in his reflection in the window.

My mind refused to believe it, Lucas was not capable of feelings anymore.

"Fuck it, Becca," he growls one more time.

There we go! Now I can see Lucas coming through.

I stood up on my feet, walked slowly towards the bathroom door where I knew I could hide if I was fast enough.

"Don't worry. I don't want it either. I will have an abortion," I said in a low voice, chocked with fear but still loud enough to make sure he heard.

He snapped his head to where my voice came from.

His blue eyes darkened so much that you could not see any difference between his black hair and his irises.

"What did you say?" he shouted in rage.

He moved menacing towards me as I grabbed the bathroom door and shut it loud, locking it fast.

"What the fuck did you say?!" he shouted again.

He tried to open the door twisting the door knob a few times then pulling, trying to break it.

"Becca, open the door!"

"It's Rebecca for you from now on! And no. I will not open unless you want me dead, here and now," I shouted and grabbed the Xanax bottle from under the sink where it dropped earlier.

"Becca, don't fuck with me! You know very well I can break this door in a blink. Open the fucking door!"

Yes, I knew he could break it in a blink. There had been no door in the house unbroken every time I would run away, hiding, locking myself in any near room I could find.

And with that thought in my mind I grabbed the bottle of Xanax and started to swallow full hands of pills trying to be done before he breaks in.

As I've thrown the last pills down my throat gulping water to push them down my stomach, I see the door flying away, a fuming Lucas in the frame of the door is watching me drinking the last drops of water.

I wipe the water from my lips with the back of my hand, full of content for succeeding.

His eyes shifted to the empty bottle next to me and widened ready to gouge out in awe.

I started to laugh at him, mockingly.

I did it.

Now it will be all over.

I will finally be fucking resting forever and be done with it. I only need ten minutes more to let the pills get in my system before he forces me to throw it all up.

I was laughing and laughing, challenging him, having nothing to loose.

What would be the worst to happen? Split my head in two? Wasn't this what I wanted?

"See Lucas, I wanted to leave you peacefully but you never let me go. I knew I would find a way around it one day. Seems today is that day," I said with a bright smile on my face embracing my faith.

"Becca, what the hell did you do?" he said grabbing the bottle from the floor and tossing it in his sweatpants pocket.

I caught the moment when he bent for it and jumped out of the bathroom, running as fast as my feet could take me, out on the bedroom door towards the gym in the basement.

That was the place with the strongest structure and I knew it would take him time to break the door.

Surely more than ten minutes.

My feet were slapping the tiles of the hallway then the dinning and on my way I hit the corner of the kitchen island with my left hip.

Falling with a groan of pain on the cold kitchen floor I look back and see Lucas running down the stairs, closing the distance between us.

I crawled on the floor, oddly enough, as if my death depended on it and pushed myself on the stairs going to the basement.

I hear him running after me and calling my name.

"Becca, stop!"

With my last powers I managed to stand up on my feet, barging in the gym and locking the door behind me.

I did it.

I was here.

Seconds after the door started to shake with Lucas's pulling and banging.

I jerked and ran to the other side of the gym hiding between the fitness equipment.

My vision was already blurring.

I felt sweat running down my body and my hands started to shake uncontrollably.

I was close to my target. I knew I delayed Lucas long enough to let the pills run through my veins.

I could feel it.

The sound of the door being pulled started to fade and then I heard a gunshot and I didn't care about any gun shot as I was sliding slowly on the floor hoping the darkness will embrace me soon enough, before Lucas puts his hands on me.

And it did, but not sooner than seeing a worried Lucas throwing himself on the floor over me while he was shouting with panic in his eyes.

"Becca! Becca, what the fuck?! Don't close your eyes! Stay with me Becca! Stay with me, baby! Don't you dare closing your eyes! Becca!"

My eyes were fixed on him, on his worried face and I almost felt sorry that I couldn't speak.

That Lucas in front of me was the one I loved, the one that loved me, the one I thought I had lost two years ago.

But then again, I was dying.

Maybe my eyes were playing me while my life was gradually ending.

I could only mouth 'Lucas' trying to lift my hand and touch his face but I never reached it.

I fainted. Or hopefully, I died.

~~~~~~~~~~

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