Doing things a little differently, this whole chapter is a flashback.

*I'm not sure if I need to put up a trigger warning or not for this, I've never done that before, but I'll do it anyway, just incase.*

Apov

I have my plan in place, everything is ready and this time I'm going to completely disappear so he wont be able to find me. It's not the first time I've done this, I've escaped twice before but he found me. He said he will always find me and bring me back because I'm his, I belong to him. Til death do us part. The last time, last year, he threatened that if I ran away again he would kill me, all while holding a gun to my head. But those times I ran, it was just spur of the moments, I had no plan, but this time I am prepared. Just three more days.

Over the years, I've become a great actress, so I don't think he suspects anything. At least I hope he doesn't.

In three days he's going on a business trip that will take him at least a couple days to wrap up. He's going to a major publishing house, but he wouldn't tell me where, to see if he can finally be published. I guess anyone can be a writer, but when he told me he was I thought he meant he was a published writer. I'm just thankful that he's not forcing me to join him. I don't know why he's not making me come, usually I'm forced to, but I'm not about to complain. He's only going to be gone a couple days, but it's plenty of time for me to escape this prison, this hell that I'm living.

Since I have to wait three days before I can make my move, I continue my everyday as I would any other day. I'm not allowed to work, so I clean our house and cook dinner before he arrives home. He calls me throughout the day, as usual and sometimes he drives by the house or even comes home while he's on break, if he's in the area, to make sure I'm here. So I have to stay home alone, all day, everyday. Not that I can go anywhere, I don't have a car, I'm not allowed to drive and I don't have my license. And the only phone I have is the landline so he can call me, I don't need a cell phone because I don't go anywhere unless he takes me. Besides, it's not like I have any friends.

Even though he controls every aspect of my life, there is one thing he doesn't know about. I know if he knew, I would be punished so I've been keeping it from him.

We just moved into this neighborhood last summer and we've yet to meet the neighbors... Or so he thinks. I'm only allowed to go outside if I'm in the back yard because we have a privacy fence so nobody can see me. But a few weeks after we moved in, I met our next door neighbors; a sweet elderly couple.

The first time I didn't say anything, the elder woman was singing while she was gardening, I just sat outside and enjoyed the sweet lyrics. When I finally got the nerve to peek over the fence one day, her husband was with her. I just observed their loving interaction, not being seen, wishing that I had a love like that. They were bickering but it was all in good spirit and both were very respectful. It wasn't until almost a month later that I finally got up enough courage to speak. I don't talk to anyone, only him, and I was beginning to feel lonely.

She would come outside around the same time everyday to check on her garden. I would make it a point to come outside then so we could talk, telling him my reason for going outside was because I wanted to start a garden so he has fresh vegetables with his dinner. Thankfully it was while he was at work so he wasn't home to see me talking to our neighbor over the fence.

It gave me a bit of freedom, if only an allusion, and she helped me with my mini garden, nothing compared to hers.

When the weather got colder, I barely saw her. It wasn't until I stopped by with a freshly baked apple pie that I learned she was ill. That's when I volunteered to clean and cook meals for them until she was able to. They wanted to pay me, and at first I refused, I was only doing it out of the kindness of my heart because they were my friends, but they insisted.

I'm grateful for it now, it's how I was able to save up enough money to run away from him.

Our relationship wasn't always like this, believe me, if it was I never would've agreed to marry him. I thought he was going to save me, not that I would need saving from him. The first time he hit me was on our honeymoon because I was a virgin. What did he want, to marry a slut? After that, it gradually increased over time until it was an everyday occurrence. And of course, it was never his fault, it was mine. He always apologizes eventually and 'makes it up to me' with gifts or sex, things he thinks I want. But there comes a time when enough is enough. And I've had enough.

Checking the time, I see I have about an hour until he will be home.

I start to prepare dinner, including desert. I don't want him to suspect anything so I continue on with what is expected of me. Maybe he wont hit me these next few days before I make my escape if I don't make him angry. Unfortunately we don't have enough apples to make another apple pie since I just made one for our neighbors. I'll have to pick some up the next time he takes me grocery shopping. Ugh, I hate grocery shopping, he's always standing over me. I wish I could go alone and have him pick me up when I'm done, but that's not allowed.

Deciding to make sugar cookies for him instead, I gather all the ingredients I'll need.

I want to bake them before I start dinner, so it looks like I've been doing something today other than talking to our neighbors. It's easy enough to keep the house clean when you're home alone all day, everyday.

As I grab the mixing bowl, I accidently knock over the sugar dish. I try to catch it but alas my cat-like reflexes suck. It falls to the floor, breaking on contact and all the sugar goes everywhere.

"NO!"

Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit!

I just mopped the kitchen and now I have a sugar mess to clean up, not to mention no sugar to make the cookies! My only salvation is that he wont be home for another hour which gives me time to clean, but now he wont have any sugar for his coffee tomorrow morning and I don't know what I'm going to make him for desert tonight.

Tears begin streaming down my cheeks uncontrollably as I clean the mess I've made.

I can't take it, I can't, not when I'm so close to leaving.

Deciding to ask our neighbors if they have a cup of sugar I can borrow, such a cliché, I know, I put on my boots and winter coat since it's cold outside.

The winter storm has just started so it's a bit windy and of course wet. I'm starting to regret my decision to run when it's this cold outside, but everything didn't come together until just now and I don't think I can wait any longer. These three days are nearly torture enough.

Making it to their front door for the second time today, I ring the bell and wait for one of them to answer.

"Sweetheart." The kind, elder gentleman smiles at me. I don't usually come over this close to the time that he's home, so I'm sure he's surprised to see me.

"I can't stay long." I tell him, stepping inside when he opens the door wider for me, so he can close the door to keep the warmth in and the cold out.

I stay near the door and keep my stuff on.

"I was just wondering if I could borrow a cup of sugar? I'll grab you a bag when I get to the store."

"Nonsense, dear," He brushes my offer off. "Come into the kitchen, grandma is in there and we'll get you plenty of sugar."

I smile, loving that they insisted I call them grandma and grandpa.

So I don't get snow all over their house, I slip off my boots and follow him through the house.

We make our way to the kitchen, making small talk as we do.

"Ma," He calls attention to his wife, who is making their own dinner. "Dakota needs some sugar."

"Oh, of course."

She stops what she's doing to grab a reusable container then fills it up with sugar, more than the cup I asked for.

As she does, I smile at the little growth chart of her grandchildren. The one and only time we talked about family, she told me her daughter and family moved to the west coast many years ago, so the initials of the two little ones; E, whose mark comes up to my ribs, & C, whose mark only comes up to my hips, are much older and taller now. They visited her after they moved so there are many notches in the door frame. But little C's stopped moving long before E's and there was now an M in its place.

I've always wondered why and what happened to little C, but never asked. I've never even asked what the initials stand for. We don't talk much about family since I told her about my parents. I think she doesn't want to bring up bad memories for me so she doesn't mention hers any more. We usually talk about recipes, household tips, and gardening.

"What are you planning on doing with the sugar, dear?" She asks because I'm sure she knows it's for a recipe and wants in on the goods.

I tell her I was planning to bake sugar cookies, nothing special, and what happened to the sugar I had. She gives me her recipe for her famous sugar cookies that her grandchildren use to love, I'm sure they still do but it's been awhile since she's seen them. I'm sure it's why they spoil me.

Once she's given me the container of sugar and the recipe for sugar cookies, she sends me on my way.

Of course I tell them I will be back tomorrow, but I haven't told them I'm leaving permanently. I don't think I'm ready to say goodbye just yet.

The snow is coming down faster than when I first stepped out. Hopefully it will give me more time to make everything before he gets home.

As I make my way to our house, I panic when I see tire tracks leading into the garage.

Holy fuck! He's home early.

"Dakota?!" I hear him shout as soon as I rush in.

My heartbeat picks up and I try to calm myself when he comes from the kitchen and storms over to me.

"Hi." I smile at him, trying not to look afraid.

"Where have you been?" He demands once he's reached me.

"I was just borrowing-"

SLAP. He smacks my face hard, but not hard enough to leave a mark. He knows where to hit me and how hard.

"You know I don't like you talking to the neighbors! They're nothing but gossips!"

"I didn't-"

SLAP. The smack is harder this time and I'm sure I may have a mark this time. But I don't cry, I hold it back. It always makes him angry when I cry and he'll hit me more or harder, giving me something to cry about.

"And now you're lying. You know how I feel about lying, damn it!"

"I'm sorry." I whisper.

He glares at me and stomps off to the living room.

I finally take off my coat and boots, acting as if nothing happened and go into the kitchen to start dinner. Since he's home, and already hit me, I'll just make his dinner now instead of baking cookies. Perhaps I'll make them later, after dinner. It will give me something to do.

Getting to it, I start everything needed for steak and potatoes, as well as a side salad.

About halfway through, I begin to make the salad, cutting the vegetables exactly the way he likes. Chopped, not diced.

When he comes into the kitchen, I act as normally as I can, hoping he doesn't suspect anything, but that feeling of dread washes over me once again. I swear he knows, he knows I've been working, that I have money, that I've packed a little of my clothes and basic necessities. He knows that in exactly three days, when he goes on his business trip, I wont be here when he returns home.

I stop what I'm doing when he comes up behind me, setting the knife down but keeping it grasped in my hand if needed.

A shiver runs down my spine as he moves my hair to one side.

"I'm sorry." He always apologizes.

"I know." I no longer argue with him, it only makes things worse.

"I've just been so stressed at work, and you just don't think sometimes." He comes up with an excuse, always blaming me. "You know I don't like you talking to the neighbors, they gossip and you know I don't like people talking about us behind our backs."

The last time he caught me talking to the neighbors, they were arrested and we moved. I know that sounds weird, but trust me, he's capable of it happening.

"I know." It's always my fault.

"Let me make it up to you," He begins to kiss my neck.

"After dinner?" I suggest, trying not sound like I'm begging.

I've never been so happy for food to be in the oven in my entire life.

"Hmmm. Okay." He smacks my hip then grips it hard, almost in warning. "But after dinner your ass is mine."

When he moves away, I continue on with making the salad. He grabs a glass, filling it with alcohol before he leaves the kitchen.

Letting out the breath I didn't realize I was holding as I set the knife down again, I sigh in relief that he didn't hit me on this visit to the kitchen.

Only three more days. Only three more days and I will be gone forever.

...

I'm just plating our food when the doorbell rings. I'm not allowed to answer the door so I ignore it.

"You didn't have to do that." I hear him say to whoever was at the door. He sounds put-off so I stop what I'm doing to listen.

I hope it's not our neighbors, they've never came over here before, I wouldn't want them to be caught in the crossfire like the last time I tried to make friends. But from the distance from the kitchen and the front door, I can't hear anyone but him.

"I guess. Come in."

"Shit," I whisper and hurriedly make sure I'm presentable, just the way he prefers.

It's not long before he comes into the kitchen again. I pay no attention to the man in uniform behind him, he would think I was checking him out if I made any type of eye contact with another man.

"Dakota, would you get us some coffee please?" He asks, like a loving husband to the outsider who is now standing in our kitchen.

"Sure." I happily play along.

I don't drink coffee so he has this fancy coffee maker that only does one cup at a time, whenever he wants it. I grab two mugs down from the cabinet and start to work the machine.

"Would you like cream or sugar?" I ask his guest since I don't know how he takes his coffee.

"Both, please." He replies.

Hearing him sigh, I'm sure he'll think I'm flirting and it will lead to him hitting me again.

I grab the cream and the container of sugar.

"What happened to our sugar dish?" He asks me.

I turn around, trying not to look scared in front of his guest because I know he's going to be angry with me over what happened, regardless that it was an accident.

"I- I- I didn't- It broke. It was an accident."

"What?" He asks upset, but not nearly as upset as I thought he would be. "Are you okay?"

I'm startled when he approaches me, grabbing my face gently between his hands and looking me over for injuries.

"I'm fine." I swallow hard.

I glance at his guest, wanting help, and see him watching us. It's now that I recognize him as his friend from work. The same man who came before but did nothing to help me.

When I look back at him, I can see in his eyes how angry he truly is, and I don't know if it's because of the sugar dish that broke or if it's because I looked at another man. It wasn't until recently that he became out of control like this. It was bearable before, but now, it happens more and more and he's only getting worse.

"Why don't I give you two a minute," His friend says as he turns around.

NO! I'm screaming inside for this man not to leave us alone, he didn't help before but surely he wont hit me with someone here. However, he leaves us, only seeing a man concerned for his wife.

"You broke the sugar dish?" His voice is low but I can hear the anger behind it now, now that we're alone.

"I didn't-" My words are cut off when he squeezes my face tighter.

"You know I don't like when you lie, and that's twice today that you've lied to me."

"It was an accident." I try to explain.

"An accident?" He asks sarcastically.

Moving one of his hands from my face, he fists it and punches me in my ribs.

"Ah." I breathe, hunched over in pain but he's still holding me up.

"An accident?" He repeats. "What you do, you do to get a rise out of me, you do it on purpose."

He hits me again, and this time I'm expecting it so I brace myself.

"Is this what you want? Do you want more?"

"No."

"And now you're going to expect me to apologize?"

"No."

"How many times do I have to say I'm sorry? Every moment of every day you want me to apologize but you do shit like this. What, do you want me to say sorry again?"

"No, it's fine. I promise."

I flinch and close my eyes tight when he goes to hit me again. However, the pain never comes because he doesn't do it again.

With my eyes closed, I can feel him moving away from me. I hear him moving around, but I don't dare open my eyes.

When I finally open my eyes, wet from tears, I see that he's left the kitchen, taking the coffee mugs with him.

He's only getting worse.

...

His friend left after they drank their coffee, unfortunately he didn't stay for dinner. He was only here for a work related matter.

We're just about finished eating and I'm dreading what's to come next. He's always so rough and selfish, but when he's been drinking it's worse. I feel nauseated just thinking about it. Maybe I can make the cookies now and suggest we watch a movie before bed, then he'll be too tired.

Once we're finished, I stand and grab our plates so I can clean up the mess we just made. I've already cleaned up before we sat down to eat so now I have to wash the dishes we've just used. I would take the alcohol that he brought to the table as well as but I've learned my lesson; never take away his alcohol. Ever.

Flashes of what happened last time run through my mind.

"You think I'm done with that?" He asks of the alcohol once I'm in the kitchen.

"Of course not." I come back into the dining room and refill his glass.

"You have something you wanna say? Say it." He challenges me.

"I don't have anything to say."

I flinch when he swipes his arm across the table, clearing it and sending things crashing onto the floor.

"I work hard, Dakota."

"I know you do." I cry, trying not to.

"I work hard to provide for you so you don't have to work. I give you everything you could ever want or need and I can't have a drink when I come home from a long day at work?"

I try to keep calm, both him and I, because I know the inevitable is going to happen. But it's useless, he abruptly stands and comes at me.

I plead and back away but just like every other time, my begging goes unheard. He grabs me and throws me to the floor hard. He's on top of me within seconds.

"I give you everything!" He shouts with his hands around my throat. I can't breath. I'm struggling to get him off of me, to get free, but he's so much stronger than me. "It must be nice to sit at home all day and do whatever the fuck you want, when you want."

He goes on and on, like he always does, squeezing my neck tighter and tighter. I know I'm going to pass out soon and after that, I don't know what he'll do to me. Will he keep choking me until I'm no longer alive? Is this it? Is he going to kill me this time?

Luckily he stopped but I had to wear scarf around my neck for a while after that.

I smile sweetly at him as I refill his glass, just to show him I don't mind him drinking. Hopefully he wont drink anymore tonight, though.

After I leave the dining room, he goes into the living room to watch sports while I clean and bake him cookies.

...

I'm so exhausted and it's getting late. I just finished putting the cookies away, he stayed in the living room all night. He's still in there, fell asleep on the couch, but I don't dare wake him. It's the only peace I have from him when he's home. Instead of serving him cookies, I decided to put them away and go to bed. I can always tell him I was waiting for him to come to bed too. But I know that wont work.

Our bedroom door is missing. He said we're married, we don't need privacy. So a lot of times, I dress when he's in the other room or not home. I still want my privacy but when I voiced my opinions... well...

Taking off my clothes, I stand in front of my dresser wearing on my bra and panties; only lace, per his orders. I grab my night shirt and pants then take my bra off.

I hear footsteps in the hall so I hurry and put the shirt on. Before I can get my bottoms on, however, he's already standing in the doorway. He leans against it as he watches me move to the bed. I quickly climb in for coverage, leaving my pants on the floor. A big no-no for me, I always sleep with bottoms, as uncomfortable as it is, because it's one more layer of protection. Cotton protection.

When I look up at him, he's staring at my pajama bottoms that I left on the floor. He doesn't like clothes on the floor, at all.

Gosh, I'm messing up left and right today. All I want to do is survive these next three days without incident so I can just leave and be done with him.

He's been quiet for far too long so I look up at him again.

He's just leaning against the door frame, watching me now instead of my pants.

Finally he pushes himself off and begins walking closer to the bed while he unbuckles his belt.

"I'm tired." I try in a vain attempt to stop him.

I swallow hard and prepare myself for the worse.

"You're tired?" He asks me sarcastically, like it's impossible for me to be. "Oh, I'm sorry, well if you're too tired, you should get your beauty rest."

I attempt to defuse him, but it's too late. He's lit and there's no stopping him now.

"I work all goddamned day, and you're too tired?! What the fuck do you do all day that has you so tired, watch television?! When I get home from a long day of real, hard work, I expect you to do your womanly duties as my wife! MY wife! Is that so much to ask?"

"No." I cry. But not in response to his question, but because he's going to hurt me again and I don't know how bad it will be. What if he breaks my bones again and I can't run away while he's gone. It's bad enough that my ribs are still killing me, I'm sure they're bruised.

He stalks towards the bed, ripping his belt off in the process.

Tossing his belt aside, he pulls me down and climbs on top of me.

"No, Boyce." I beg him. "Please, don't."

He's so much stronger than I am. He grabs my wrists and holds them in one of his hands so I can't use my arms to push him away. I struggle to get out of his grasp but it's useless, there's no way I can over power him. I know the only way to get out of this with minimal injuries would be to just let him do whatever he wants.

He starts to grab me, roughly, pulling at my panties. Tears are falling from my eyes as I just lay here.

I think of everything this man has put me through, everything he's done to me and what he has yet to do.

I'm not waiting any longer to get away, I'm leaving, and I'm leaving now! Fuck waiting those three day!

Before he can do anything more, and since he's distracted, I manage to free one of my hands. I reach for the scissors I keep near the bed, he thinks they are for general use, but they are really for protection from him if he ever went too far, like he is now.

Grabbing around the handle, holding it firmly in my hand, with one quick motion I stab him in the side before he's able to get my panties all the way off.

He cries out in pain and falls off of me, onto his side of the bed.

I quickly get up and run to our closet. I found a loose floor board in our closet a few months ago, and that's where I've been hiding my get-away bag. I wasn't planning on running this soon, or with him actually home, but I can't stay here another minute longer. I wont be his little punching bag anymore.

After putting my pajama pants on in a hurry, I grab my bag and run passed him still howling in pain.

Acting fast, before he gets up and follows me, at the door I slip on my coat and boots again.

Running outside our house, I realize I have nowhere to go. I planned on getting a taxi to the bus station but I don't have time for that now, he'll get up soon and find me, bring me back and finish the job. He told me if I ran away again, he'd kill me. And I have no doubt that he'll keep that promise and get away with it. Either that or it will be a murder suicide.

The soft glow of light next door grabs my attention, calling me like a beacon.

I take off running in that direction, the distance between our homes seems to have grown since I was last here only hours earlier.

As I run, I reach up and pull hard on the chain around my neck; a necklace he gifted to me after I was released from the hospital for 'falling down the stairs'. His way of apologizing. After it's free from my neck, I toss it onto the snow covered grass and watch as it sinks to the ground below. I'm sure he'll find it once the snow melts but I've always suspected it has some sort of tracking device inside the gem attached. I can't take it with me, not that I'd want anything from him, but I could've pawned it. I planned on leaving it here before I ran, but now all my plans are going to shit.

Finally making it to their door, instead of ringing the bell like I usually do, I bang on the door. However, nobody answers because they are probably in bed sleeping.

Please open the door before he comes outside. Please!

Thankfully my prayers are answered.

"Sweetheart?" She answers the door looking like she just got out of bed.

"I need help," I beg her. "Please, help me."

The sweet elderly lady grabs me, pulling me inside her warm home and shutting the door.

"Oh my goodness, dear," She freaks seeing the blood on my hands and my shirt. "What's happened? Did he hurt you?"

I've always suspected they knew but I've never told them anything. They've never asked me, but I could see the concern in their eyes when I never wanted to talk about my husband. I'm sure they saw the fear in mine when he was ever mentioned so they stopped bringing him up in conversation.

I wanted to tell them, I wanted to tell them so many times, but I never wanted them to look down on me for not having a marriage like theirs. I know it sounds stupid, they would never treat me badly or make me feel that way, but I didn't want anyone to know. I'm sure they would've called the authorities if their thoughts were ever confirmed, but little do they know that would've made things worse, I've already tried that route.

I'm trying to tell her what happened, nearly hyperventilating and shaking as I try to explain, "You have to help me, I don't know what happened, I just did it. I stabbed him. It was self-defense, he hit me, he wanted to have sex and I didn't want to, I told him no. He's still alive, but he's going to come after me if I don't get away. I need help, I can't do this without help, I have to leave him. Please, help me. Please!"

She somehow understands me through my crying, breathing and hiccupping, and brings me further into her home. Leading me to their hall bathroom, she starts the shower for me.

"You need to get that blood off of you," She tells me, taking my bag from me that I've been clinging to for dear life.

"Theo!" She calls her husband in a panic as she starts to rummage through her bathroom, gathering everything I'll need; towels, shampoo, soap, scissors, etc.

I'm shaking as I watch her move around.

"Theo!" She calls to him again when he doesn't answer.

"What's going on, dear?" He finally responds, sounding as if she just woke him up.

I can hear him walking down the hallway.

He comes inside the bathroom and when he sees me standing near the shower in my bloody pajamas, and the state I'm in, his face shows he knows exactly what happened.