Chapter 4

It was already late at night when Charles finally came home.

Once Lydia left, I started gathering my stuff.

After living in this house for so long, I'd accumulated way too much, and sorting through it all was a real hassle.

When Charles came home, I was in the kitchen cooking oatmeal.

Charles always had a weak stomach, and whenever he got busy with work, he'd forget to eat. So, I made it a point to learn some stomach-soothing remedies from the doctor.

Every morning, I'd drag myself out of bed to cook oatmeal, all so he'd have a healthy stomach and wouldn't have to suffer when he got older.

He always felt bad about me getting up so early, and would act all spoiled, pulling me back into bed and insisting I stay with him.

But I knew better than anyone how awful a bad stomach could feel.

When we were both seventeen, Charles took care of me when I was going hungry.

I used to think I'd take care of him for the rest of my life. But after that, he kept coming home full from eating out.

I hadn't cooked oatmeal for him in a long time.

Charles looked exhausted, and the wound on his forehead was already crusted over.

He stood in the kitchen doorway, his eyes shot through with red, looking for all the world like a lost, abandoned animal. "Did you take Lydia's money?"

He clenched his jaw, eyes bloodshot and full of resentment. "Grace, answer me. Did you take Lydia's money?"

I'd planned to have one last peaceful meal with him, then slip away without a word.

I never expected Lydia to be so eager to get rid of me.

Charles, furious, knocked the bowl of oatmeal to the floor, hot liquid splattering onto my skin with a sharp, burning sting.

He was like a beast out of control, clutching my collar and slamming me hard against the wall.

My shoulder blades crashed into the unyielding surface, a bolt of pain shooting through me, draining all the color from my face.

He said, "Grace, tell me. What did I ever do wrong to you? I wanted nothing more than to keep you safe, to cherish you, but look at how you treat me. Do you care at all?"

The more he spoke, the more his emotions spiraled out of control, his whole body shaking with rage. "You got close to me for the money, then went behind my back and slept with other men. Don't you care about getting sick?

"You'd hook up with some old guy? How could you be so cheap?"

Those shameful memories from five years ago came rushing back, crashing over me like a tidal wave.

My whole body felt frozen, my ears filled with a piercing buzz.

My heart felt like it was being squeezed tight, my breathing turning rapid and shallow.

*****

That day, I was out with friends and had a few drinks. After a while, my mind was foggy, and my body felt weak. I couldn't lift a finger.

When I finally woke up, groggy and confused, a stranger was lying next to me.

I felt like I'd been struck by lightning. The ache in my body made it painfully clear what I'd been through.

I was trembling uncontrollably as I rushed into the bathroom, desperately scrubbing myself over and over.

The scalding water left my skin raw and red, and I scrubbed so hard that bloody streaks appeared all over.

I figured it was my bad luck. I got drunk, and someone picked me up when I was out of it.

Despair and fury swallowed me whole; if I could, I would have killed that bastard right then and there.

I clung to the hope that if Charles ever found out someone had hurt me, he'd want to kill that guy more than I did.

It wasn't until Charles kicked open the hotel room door with Lydia in tow that everything changed.

When I saw Lydia's face, completely unsurprised, wearing a hint of satisfaction, I finally realized what was really going on.

For the sake of her son's future, Lydia coldly sent me to another man's bed.

That day, Charles was blinded by fury. No one could hold him back. He beat that guy until he was barely alive.

I was sobbing, begging for a breakup, but Charles had his hand around my throat and sneered, "In your dreams. If I die, you die with me."

After that day, Charles changed into someone I barely recognized.

He was always hanging around hotels, with a revolving door of women coming and going.

He was destroying himself to punish me.

The overwhelming sense of suffocation dragged me back to reality.

Charles was crying; his hand kept shaking as he gripped my neck. "I've been at odds with my mom for you, kept breaking her heart year after year, and this is how you treat me?"

Seeing me so unmoved, he shouted with a look of utter despair in his eyes. "Come on, say it. Tell me you weren't after the money, tell me that night five years ago was some stupid misunderstanding.

"Why didn't you ever clear things up all these years? Why?"

I shoved him away with everything I had.

My chest burned with suffocating pain, and I was gasping desperately for breath. Coughing, I couldn't stop the tears from pouring down my face. "Why didn't I explain?"

The moment I saw him walk in that day, I really thought there was hope.

I threw myself at him, sobbing, but all I got was a harsh slap across the face.

I said, "I hadn't said a word, and you hit me, called me cheap, and threw the most vicious insults at me.

"How was I supposed to explain anything to you? Should I beg you to forgive me?"

That was when I realized it was truly over between us.

If I told him the truth to get back at Lydia, it would only end up hurting Charles more.

At that time, I couldn't bring myself to do it. But it was not the same anymore.

I said, "Do you want the truth so badly? Fine, I'll tell you..."