Shallow River

“Babe, that’s gross,” I say, adding a smile he will hopefully find cute.

“You think me wanting you is fucking gross?” he asks, rage creeping into his voice. His hands squeeze my arms as Ryan’s eyes darken into something dangerous. This conversation is quickly going downhill, and I think I’m strong enough to keep it rolling. I don’t want to have sex with him. I shouldn’t fucking have to.

“No,” I say slowly. “The fact that I’m telling you no and you’re not accepting it is gross.”

My head is whipping to the side as an explosion of pain blooms across my cheek. My ears are ringing as Ryan gets in my face. The fucker slapped me.

“You don’t get to tell me no. I’m your fiancé which means I get to touch you and fuck you whenever the hell I please.”

My cheek is on fire. Tears prick at my eyes, and it only angers me. I swear this man gets off on my tears and pain.

He steps back, his arms spread out with an aghast expression on his face.

“We just got engaged. I thought you’d be excited, River. Most girls would be ripping their fiance’s clothes off right now. I don’t get it.”

Cue the manipulation. How have I never seen it before? Anytime I’d get angry enough to realize I’m dating the biggest asshole next to Hitler, and he’d find a way to pull me back in with his manipulation and sweet words.

“You said you’d stop hitting me,” I say instead. His face contorts into anger.

“Really, River? I think I’m the victim here. I just put myself out there, made myself vulnerable to you, and did something I’ve never done for any other girl, and you have the nerve to reject me.”

“I didn’t reject you, Ryan. I said yes,” I say calmly. He looks at me like I’m stupid.

“You’re rejecting me right now,” he speaks through gritted teeth. This is a losing battle, and I can feel the helplessness crawling in. Is this what made me so compliant? That maybe if I went along with things, I wouldn’t get yelled at or hit?

No one can deny that Ryan’s love is safer than his anger. But what he tries to hide is that there’s no such thing as loving you without him being angry at you for it.

I nod once. “I am.”

His face turns red, his wrath becoming an entirely different entity.

“Do you enjoy pissing me off, River? You know what happens when I get pissed.”

There are so many ways I can answer that question. You hit, you rage, you rape…

In that moment, Bilby skitters by, sensing the growing tension in the room. It happens in slow motion. I watch Ryan’s eyes drop to my cat and witness the moment the idea strikes him. His eyes turn glacial, and an evil smirk slides across his face. I lurch forward as Ryan picks Bilby up by the scruff of his neck, eliciting a pained cry from him.

“Let him go!” I shout, charging towards him.

No, no. Not my cat. Anything but my cat.

He swings Bilby out of my reach, ignoring the innocent little cat’s hissing and loud cries.

“Apparently I need to teach you a lesson. If you disobey me, then you don’t get to have nice things. Including your filthy fucking animal. I’ll fucking kill him, River,” he screams, shaking my baby in his grips.

“Stop!” I cry hysterically, once more reaching for my cat. “I’ll do whatever you want, Ryan. Please, just let him go. Please, please, please!” I beg hysterically, panic taking over. I can’t look away from Bilby. Tears stream down my face as complete and utter desperation takes over.

I’ve never felt desperation like this before. Not when I was being raped as little girl. Not as I was being beaten within an inch of my life. Not by Billy or Ryan.

He stares at me for a solid ten seconds before he drops Bilby. In tandem, my sigh of relief releases along with my cat from Ryan’s harsh grip. I cry harder, now from sheer relief that he didn’t seriously hurt my baby. Bilby skitters off, his angry hissing in his wake.

Just as I step forward, ready to crush his goddamn skull in, he’s seizing me by the arms and dragging me up the stairs while I fight and scream. When I manage to dislodge myself from his grip and try to run back down them, he pushes me hard. My knees give and I go flying down the stairs.

A cry escapes, my arms taking the brunt of my fall. I flip over, ass overhead, my tailbone landing painfully on the edge of the step. Another cry is ripped from my throat, my eyes widening from the excruciating pain.

His hand is in my hair the next second, and with each step, he drags me up the stairs by my hair. The strands are ripping out of my scalp. I buck against him, trying to find purchase with my feet on the steps to stop him, but he only yanks harder. When he has to grab my hair again because he’s ripped out so much hair, I give up with that tactic, grab his wrist and lift myself, trying my best to alleviate some of the pain.

Finally, we reach the bedroom. He tosses me on the ground forcefully, causing my forehead to slam into the wooden floor. In the midst, I wish for carpet in the bedroom. I’d take rug burn over bumps and bruises from the unforgiving floor.