AN: This is definitely the most hellish part of Esme's life. Tell me if you think it's too steamy for a T rating but I had to make it brutal for poor Esme because she does c-- oops I almost told you what happens ;) Well according to the actual owner of Twilight, Stephenie Meyer, Esme's human life was horrible so...hope you enjoy the second chapter! Keep the reviews coming in.

Haha...I finally update!

CH.2 HELL

My new husband and I were heading home now. The wedding party had dragged on into the banquet. Then all the toasts and dances dragged the banquet past midnight. Charles had his arm draped about my shoulders in the automobile; his breath reeked of wine from the numerous toasts. I myself felt cramped, but fortunately clear-minded. I had refrained from any alcohol.

"We're here! Is this your place?" The driver turned halfway back with raised eyebrows.

I looked…and my jaw dropped. A classic Victorian mansion stood proudly at the opposite side of the large, trimmed lawn flanked by a circular pathway and tall, secretive trees. The edges of the lawn were lined with Jasmine and Begonia. Not too long ago, I have read a book on the meaning of flowers and I remembered that Jasmine stood for wealth. It was fitting that these flowers decorated the massive estate. However, I couldn't remember what Begonias meant.

"Yes, this is our stop." Charles turned to me. "Do you like your new home Esme?"

"It's beautiful." That was the truth.

Charles took my bag and helped me off the coach. Then the driver clattered away and disappeared at the bend of the road. My husband opened the front door for me. I stepped into the threshold.

That's when it started.

Upon entering, a magnificent, curving staircase dominated the high ceiling room. Warm, wooden floorboards covered the ground. A golden chandelier hung from the middle of the ceiling. Several paintings and intricate tapestries hung on the walls.

"I'll take your things upstairs to our room. You can have a look around our home and meet me upstairs later." He was looking at me, only not at my eyes. I blushed and looked away. This was the first time I had detected any rude behavior from Charles Evenson. I suppressed a shiver uncomfortably. Our room sounded a little suggestive.

I shrugged off the feeling and, taking his advice, picked a room to start touring in. I began with a living room occupied by a few fat leather armchairs and sofas. There were also two fire hearths on the opposite sides of the room. I imagined cuddling up with Charles under a wooly blanket in the puffiest sofa nearest to the fire. However, I simply could not see myself reclining comfortably in his arms. A hallway connected this room to a formal dining room with a stately mahogany table and cushioned chairs. Then there was a little kitchen through the opposite door.

As I ascended the grand staircase, I realized there weren't any hired hands around the house. We would be alone, Charles and I. It was strange that he hadn't hired anyone to help keep the house. Not even a cook or a maid.

There were four rooms upstairs. I passed a furnished office, a guestroom, a large bathroom, and, at the end of the hall, was our bedroom.

"Esme! It's late, time for bed." Charles called from the bedroom loudly.

I jumped and entered the room hesitantly. There was a four poster bed hung with velvet curtains as high as my waist topped with plush feather pillows and a luxurious quilt. At the east wall, there was a large window with a cushioned bench.

He was sprawled out on the bed among all the luxurious furnishing, like a king, but he leapt up the moment I entered.

"Esme, you took so long! I was getting worried about you."

"I'll just go…clean up and get ready for bed, okay? I'll be just a moment Charles." In reality, I wanted to delay the time before I had to crawl into bed with him. I tried to smile reassuringly.

"Well hurry up," he complained, "You know I need you." For a moment, he had an almost…hungry expression on his face. Then his firm mouth broke into a smile and he dropped back onto the bed. He closed his eyes and shooed me away with a sharp hand gesture.

As I immersed myself in rose-scented bathwater, I tried to tell myself that there was nothing to worry about in Charles. He was a respectable man, only a little drunk from the wedding drinks earlier today. His ill manners were temporary and would not last the night. Come dawn, my new husband would, once more, become the good Charles Evenson we all knew. I toweled off and slipped into a new silk robe that I had found among the mass of wedding gifts.

I opened the bathroom door, determined to be lighthearted and happy for Charles, and found myself face to face with the man himself. He stood so close that I could feel the heat radiating off his skin. An arm found its way around my slim waist. He pulled me to him so that my body was pressed to his and cupped my flushed face in one large hand.

What was this? My heart accelerated to an impossible speed from the touch. One day into our marriage- of real acquaintance- and Charles was already progressing to this level of intimacy?

"I couldn't wait. I need you so much." His hot breath, stagnant with the foul odor of alcohol, wafted across my face, sticking to my moist skin.

Then he kissed me again. This kiss was much rougher than the gentle, decent one I had survived at the wedding. It scared me. Charles' mouth pressed against mine hard. His tongue pushed my lips apart, exploring, invading my mouth. I was too shocked to even take a breath. His mouth glued onto me while my feet took root in the floorboards and I stood there, stiff as a board.

I came out of the coma when Charles swung me onto his broad shoulder and started for the bedroom. He flung me onto the bed and, straddling me, began to kiss my neck while untying the delicate ribbon that held my robe together. I unsuccessfully tried to suppress the urge to shudder in disgust but he didn't notice. Charles was breathing heavily now, and seemed to have some trouble undoing the knot. I was still shocked and confused but I knew where this was going. I did not want it, not now. I was not yet ready for the experience, I was still getting used to the concept of marriage. This was happening too fast.

"Charles, I'm not ready for this."

He looked at me blankly for a moment, then ignored me.

"Please, I barely know you. Stop. Listen to me."

He muttered irritably, incoherently, but continued to try the knot.

"What did you say?" I put a hand on his arm and gripped it firmly, trying to slow him down. It was a bad move.

"I. Said. SHUT UP!" He jerked his hand out of my grip and ripped out the ribbon in his rage. For a moment, he viewed my naked body with lust. Then, with renewed fervor, Charles pulled off his shirt.

I was frightened but tried not to show it. I couldn't let him see I was docile, controllable. I had to stand firm.

I pushed myself into a sitting position. With my face centimeters away from Charles', I locked my eyes onto his.

"No. Not today. Please."

He seemed a bit taken back from my defiance but slowly, a mocking sneer creeped up on his features and he did the most dreadful thing yet...He slapped me. Hard. Hard enough to send my head spinning sideways. Hard enough I finally realized that Charles Evenson was a complete monster and that I was in danger every second I spent in his presence. I lay back down on the bed fearfully, my cheeks still tingling from the blow.

Charles leaned down into me and whispered vehemently, "In my house, I make all the decisions. You are my wife, you have no right to talk to me like that. But I do. I can do whatever I want with you. Remember that."

He lay down on me again and tried to kiss me but I turned my head away from him and pushed against his chest with my hands in a feeble atempt to resist him.

He slapped me again on the exposed side of my face. Even harder than the first.

"DAMN IT GIRL! When will you learn?" Another slap. My cheeks stung hotly. Whimpering, slightly dizzy, I turned to him. His eyes were wild. I let my hands fall from his chest.

"Better." Charles began to take off his pants ominously. I stared at him, overwhelmed by the feeling of helplessness. He nudged my knees apart and lowered himself onto my quivering form. This time, I did not resist.

"Much better Esme," he purred, and he took advantage of me.

Charles grabbed my hips and thrust himself into me, spearing me like a sword. I wanted to scream when he entered me, but what good could that do? No one would be able to hear me, and he was strong. So much stronger than me.

I felt so helpless. I was a doll in my husband's rough hands.

I tuned out of my current predictament and thought back to earlier today, when I had been utterly unknowing. I had once thought that Charles Evenson was a good man, that I could only have a good life (though inadequate) to be wedded to him. I remembered the last moment of public contact; Charles had been decent up to the point the cab driver disappeared at the bend of the road. I recalled seeing the beautiful house and the impressive lawn with the delicate flowers. Strangely, I now remembered the language of Begonia flowers.

"Beware" they said.

The warning had come too late. I moaned painfully as Charles thrust deeply into me.

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