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The Woman In Chains
There's this girl in the mirror, I wonder who she is. Sometimes I think I know her and sometimes I wish I did. There is a story in her eyes, lullabies, and goodbye. When she's looking back at me I can tell...she's hurting inside.
ADAM
"Wasn't that strange last night? What happened at the store?" I yawned, rubbing my eyes to see my best friend, Eli, running on the tredmile in our living room. He looked up, gave me a wave and showed me that his headphones were in his ears.
Which meant, he can't hear a thing.
"That woman was really pretty last night, right?" I asked out loud, as Eli looked at me strangely, pointing to the headphones and screaming, "WHAT DUDE? I CAN'T HEAR YOU, I HAVE MY MUSIC ON!"
I gave him a thumbs up, before heading into the fridge.
Something was odd about that couple at the store last night. That man looked so familiar, as if I've seen him on television or something. But that woman, she was a stranger to me.
My heart stopped a little, looking at the carton of chocolate milk...
I hope she was okay, even though I didn't know her.
CLARE
"Owen, I'm going to go out for a run. Is that okay?" I twirled the headphones around my fingertips, glaring down at the floor. My heart raced nervously, waiting for his permission.
"Sure, go ahead. Make sure you run five miles, you need to lose some around the waist. I don't like having any meat on my bones," I nodded, slipping my jogging shoes on.
"Oh and I put that running app on your Ipod, so when you get back here I want to see five miles straight across the screen. If not, you know what that means," my eyes averted from the closet, the closet that hid all my demons.
"A-Alright...I'll be running towards town and I'll come back."
He nodded, playing his video game, "I expect you to be quick, I need dinner by four o' clock because I have a game tonight. You'll be wearing that dress to impress the magazines, correct?"
"Y-Yes Owen, I'll be ready for your game," in all honesty, I hated Football with a passion.
Football was boring to me, I found myself interested in writing and the arts more than sports. But when I told Owen on our first date that I hated sports, he told me that I'd have to get used to it, because he loves them.
My dream is to escape him, and run to New York to the Museum of Modern Art.
"What are you staring out? Get your head out of the fucking clouds and run," he spat, waving me away with his hand as he stared down the screen, pressing buttons on that stupid controller.
And so I ran.
After two hours of running, the heat had gotten to me, and my curls were matted to my face. I probably looked like a mess, but I didn't care, because I was at least twenty minutes of driving distance away from Owen.
My heart raced, and palms sweated as I began to walk, resting my aching muscles.
As I walked off my course, I found myself outside of a video game store. This place looked familiar; too familiar. I smiled, realizing I was at the same store as last night.
Perfect time to apologize...and maybe...maybe I can get a Gatorade.
Owen never lets me drink anything with sugar in it, so I mainly stick to water...when I can get a glass from him. I felt around in my shorts pocket, feeling a twenty dollar bill between my fingertips.
I looked around nervously, before making my way to the children's video games.
My fingers traced along the tabs, before I pulled out 'Curious George' again. I smiled at the innocent monkey on the cover, before retrieving it and slowly walking to the counter.
No one was in here-that's odd.
"Just this?" the man asked, and I looked up, to see a pair of green eyes staring at me, "Uh-uh yeah...yeah that's it."
The employee asked me another question, but I ignored it, looking at his name tag. 'Eli' it read, except it had a smiley face covering the rest of his name so I couldn't view it.
"Is there anything else you'd like miss?"
I swallowed the lump in my throat, which was throbbing and uncomfortable, "I-I don't know if you remember me...but I was here last night with my um...my fiance and I just wanted to apologize for his behavior towards you and your friend."
"Oh! Chocolate milk girl, right?" he smirked, calling out "Adam! Your best friend is here!"
When no one responded he slid across the counter, and I held the video game to my chest, thinking he was going to hit me. He smirked, "Chill out chocolate milk girl, I'm just going to get my friend. He'd love to talk to you! He's a little shy on the edges though."
Eli had disappeared, and I jumped, seeing the blue eyed man beside me.
"H-Hi, nice to see you back here miss. Did you find what you were looking for?" I showed him my Curious George game, and he smiled, "I'm glad you bought it...but um, it's on the house. Here's your money back."
He handed me my twenty, but I shook my head, "No please, take it, I insist."
Giving Owen's money away was the guiltiest pleasure-it's the only thing I can get away with without being punished or hit because he has so much money he wouldn't know if it was all gone.
"Keep the change," I whispered, and he held out his hand, "I-I'm Adam Torres by the way."
I smiled at the kind gesture, "I-I um, I have to go. It was nice meeting you. I hope to see you soon."
"Wait!" Just as I was about to leave, he grabbed a chocolate milk from behind the counter, which had tiny ice chips falling from the bottle-showing it was ice cold.
"I might not know your name, but I know that you shouldn't have to take that guys crap. You're beautiful, don't let anyone tell you otherwise...and don't change for him," I smiled, taking the chocolate milk, "I'm Clare."
OWEN
My stomach was growling uncontrollably as I stared down at the empty plate before me.
Clare has been gone for nearly three hours, and although I want her out there longer, to lose all that fat she's got on her, she needs to cook me my meal. She can afford to skip a few meals, but me, I need my protein for the game.
The door flung open, revealing a sweaty haired Clare, "Where have you been?"
She placed the Ipod on the table, which read '7 miles' straight across the screen.
"What are you-trying to impress me?" I scoffed, "Go be a woman, and do your job as my fiance. Make me my meal, and I want you dressed, looking pretty, in a half hour."
"I need more time to-," I glared at her, "What was that Clare?"
"I'll be ready on time."
CLARE
"How does it feel to be so close to being Mrs. Milligan?"
"Clare, how are you so beautiful all the time? Is it stressful?"
"What's the life of being a fiance to a famous Football player like? Do you love it? Hate it?"
"Oh Clare, please turn this way! Give us a little smile!"
"You look gorgeous tonight Clare!"
To sit in Owen's private seating box up in the rafters was where I got my thinking done every night or day that he has a game. Everyone leaves me alone here; the press, Owen, everyone.
It's my favorite place to be.
"Mrs. Milligan, I am under strict orders by your husband to not feed you...but you do look rather bony, and I am willing to give you some food," I turned to see Owen's butler, who followed him around from time to time.
He was a good guy, just working for a bad man.
"Please, call me Clare...I'm not married to him yet. And no thank you, I wouldn't want to anger Owen," I watched the Football game with teary eyes, as Mr. Johnson placed his hand on my shoulder, "I'll go get you some home cooked spaghetti my wife made me. You look like you need it more than me."
Within ten minutes there was-what seemed like-a buffet before me; meatballs, spaghetti, rice, and glasses of wine.
"T-This is really lovely...thank you, you didn't have to do this," I whispered, and he smiled, "It's on the house. Now, red or white?"
I averted my eyes to look at Owen down on the field, who was about to tackle someone, when I turned back to the meal, "Both."
"I can't believe you got drunk Clare! Do you know how bad I looked in front of the press?" he screamed at me, and yet, his voice seemed so far away.
I smiled, "We w-went out the back door Owen...no one even saw you. Luckily, everyone did see your soon to be trophy wife in the beginning."
"What is that smell?" I held my hand over my face, and giggled at the scent.
I flopped down on our bed, and Owen climbed on top of me, his face close to my face. I hiccuped, letting out a giggle. Getting drunk was fun, and Owen seemed frustrated, which made me happy.
"Breathe out Clare," he ordered, and I hiccuped again; the wine must've gotten to me.
"Is that spaghetti and sauce?" his nostrils flared, and I nodded, "Y-Yes it is! Mr. Johnson is such a nice man...he heated it up for me and I ate...and ate...and ate...and ate."
Slap!
I was in a daze, but not far enough in a daze to a point where I couldn't feel, "Is that the best you got? My grandma slaps harder than you!"
"You shouldn't have said that Clare."
My mind was so slow that by the time I finally realized what he was doing, my head was already buried into a pillow, and he was adjusting himself behind me. I could feel him, rubbing, taunting me from behind. He clawed at my back, leaving scars on the sides of my spine. I could feel the blood trickle down, not wanting to think about what I'd have to do to bandage myself up...
His fingernails tugged at my sides, "I don't know how many times I have to do this to you Clare, but I'll do it until you finally realize that you're mine...and you live under my roof, my rules."
The only thing that kept me alive; staring at the chocolate milk bottle on the bedside table that Adam gave me earlier...
END OF CHAPTER 2
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