Surprise, surprise! I just couldn't keep myself away, and had to post another one right away! Consider it a special Christmas treat, though this is hardly a happy chapter. Here, finally, is the chapter which was the reason for my T-rating. Not a very long one, but thank God for that! I felt horrible while writing it, and for once, I hope you guys feel the same when you read it!

Première

It was cold. Intensely so. I hugged myself tightly, sending surreptitious glances at Charles, who didn't seem to notice me shivering, and did not, after all, offer me his coat. We were on our way to the hotel where we were to spend the night. It was the biggest, grandest hotel in town(and it wasn't much), but it was to be the starting point of our honeymoon which was to start the next day. We wouldn't be going on that honeymoon after all.

Not that it was much. It was just supposed to be a trip to New York- a romantic one, though. But somehow, it had never held any appeal for me, and I was secretly glad that we weren't going after all.

But the hotel plan had stayed, and so there we were, driving silently in the cold snow to the hotel, the closed space making me thoroughly uncomfortable, but not uncomfortable enough to make me forget the cold.

Meanwhile, I was shocked at myself. I was still waiting for the tears, but they never came. Though the pain was still there, the shock of it all had been too much for me, I suppose, and I was too exhausted to even cry. I was married, had lost my brother and the home I grew up in, all in a single day. Not the usual daily drill.

The car screeched to a sudden halt, making me jump, indicating that we had arrived at the Excelsior.

"Get down," Charles said, disappointing me a little more because I was expecting him to open the door for me. However, he waited for me to go in, and I did, grateful to be escaping the cold.

Inside, it was pleasantly warm, and the warm golden ambience of the lobby somewhat calmed my tattered nerves. Suddenly, surprising me, Charles grabbed my waist and dragged me along with him to the counter. My colourless cheeks flushed with the sudden public intimacy; I struggled to free myself, but Charles was too strong for me.

"Mr. and Mrs. Evenson," Charles drawled out loudly, attracting the attention of several people sitting on the chaises in the lobby. I blushed more, thankful to notice that I knew no one, since this was in a distant part of town. The manager beamed at us, and produced a little brass key with a flourish. "Of course, sir," he said in a high theatrical voice, "you'll be having the honeymoon suite."

"Yes," Charles affirmed loudly.

"Your key, sir. Your luggage…"

"No luggage."-Charles cut in, making me wish he'd speak a little softer.

"Right this way, sir," the manager gestured to the bellhop, who bowed to us comically. Just as we started to follow, I felt a tug on my sleeve, and turned around to find a thin woman in her late twenties, eyeing me with what looked like excitement.

"Excuse me, but I couldn't help noticing your lovely dress… Is it the new Jacques Doucet model? I have only seen it in the catalogues, and I must say, this looks absolutely captivating."

I nearly laughed out loud at her mention of the famous, and expensive French designer. To think that I could afford to have even one piece from his collection was truly laughable.

I liked the compliment, though, and I smiled a little tiredly at her. "No, but it was inspired by him, this was mostly my idea," I said a little self-consciously. Mine and Edward's. Every idea I had, I'd pass on to him for approval. I had wanted lace detailing on the waist, but Edward had said no, and the idea was immediately abandoned. I had wanted tulle trimming on the hem, but Edward had positively vetoed the idea. It was all his decision, not mine…

And the despair washed over me again, the tiny smile was wiped from my face. Edward was gone…

"I'm sorry," Charles said suddenly, still loud, making both us women jump, "but I'd like my wife back now."

And without even a goodbye, or even letting me say something, he swept me away towards the stairs, where the bellhop was waiting.

All the way up the stairs(our suite was on the fourth floor, which was the highest), Charles didn't say a word, and neither did he relinquish his firm grasp around my midriff. He paid absolutely no attention to my whispered protests or my squirming, his impassively expressionless face fixed straight ahead.

Within minutes, we were in our suite, with the bellhop having been sent away with a suitable tip. As soon as the door shut behind him, Charles steered me towards the bed, whilst he settled himself in a cosy armchair by the fire.

"Well, that's all done with."-he said, smiling at me.

I stood at the edge of the bed, confused, bewildered, but mostly tired.

Meanwhile Charles shed his coat in a quick, easy move. "And now that its done," he said cheerfully, "let's move on, shall we?"

My heavy, heavy heart suddenly thudded loudly. For some reason, I was feeling a strange prickly sensation spreading up my toes…

"Go on, then," he said, nodding at me as he stood up. "Take off that crazy doozy model or whatever that woman called it. Or would it be quicker with my help?"

His smile widened even more. It was, I felt, not a very nice smile. And suddenly I realised what that prickling sensation was. Fear…

"Charles, please." I was dismayed to notice my voice was shaking horribly. He stepped closer, and I took a scared little step back. "Please… not now. I- I can't."

He continued to come closer. "Why not?"-he asked softly, seductively I'm sure, but it only terrified me more.

"Please," I repeated softly, "Not tonight… I'm not in the mood."

Charles stopped advancing abruptly. And then, before I could even see it coming, a blow landed on my cheek, the force of which made me collapse on the bed.

I was stunned, the belated pain and stinging in my cheeks making me aware of what had happened. Charles had hit me.

"Not. In. The. Mood?"-he asked, his voice rising with every word, my fear escalating with the increase in volume.

"I court you and follow you and act like your damned dog for months and you're not in the bloody mood?"

"Charles!" Tears flowed from my eyes and down my cheeks, making the skin burn even more.

"Goddamn it, Esme!"-he roared, and struck me again. This time, I cried out loud. Leaning down, he caught a clump of my hair and forced my head up, making me look at him, even as I kept crying out in pain.

"I'm your husband, you understand?"-he yelled into my face, disregarding my sobs. "Your husband! You belong to me! If you will cry, you will cry for me! If you will grovel, you will grovel for me!"

He let go of my hair with such a violent motion that I was flung backwards into the bed. Then he climbed on, straddling me with his strong legs, and pinning my arms with his hands on either side.

"A hundred times yes!"-he seethed into my face, the stench of alcohol rolling from his breath. "A hundred times yes to that damned little sycophant! Edward is my life"-he drawled, mimicking my not-so-long-ago pronouncement in a horribly frightening high-pitched voice. I let out a terrified painful whimper. Then he began to yell again, tearing away my beautiful dress in powerful swipes. "And what am I? Some idiot unimportant figure on the side? The hell I am! And instead of choosing me, me, you choose to show favour to that bloody damned nut-sized bastard!"

"Charles!"-I screamed, and lifted my head and shoulders up with terrific effort, sudden rage filling my veins. I struggled against him, thrashing my body, screaming all the while. How dare he! How dare he insult-

Suddenly Charles let go of my right hand, and leaning back, punched me on my jaw. My head fell back against the soft mattress, the softness of which did nothing to ease the pain I had, within and without. My jaw hurt terribly, and when his accelerated fist found contact with my chin, my screams stopped immediately. It was like that punch had switched off my voice.

I stared into his glistening, angry, mad eyes mutely, my body going limp. His thin mouth curved into a smile- a worse version of the not-very-nice smile on his face mere minutes ago. It wasn't a smile. He was leering at me.

"I told you I meant to have you, Esme," he said, his voice suddenly soft again, almost silky. "And so I have."

He pressed his lips onto mine, forcing my mouth open and his tongue down my throat.

I did not respond. I didn't even react. My mind had found that being cold and aloof would be the least painful. I could almost feel my mind shutting down, unthinking, unfeeling, protecting my memories- going into hibernation. A cold clammy sweat formed on my skin as my brain struggled to mute my senses, but it was not an easy task. But even as Charles let go of my lips and began to stroke my half-undressed body, I felt those areas of my skin go numb, soothing me, protecting my delicate thoughts.

My last thought was of thanking God for giving me such a protective and resourceful mind, even as Charles whispered into my ears, his hands unrelenting, "It's time for your première, my prima donna."