Lies Beneath the Surface (Buried Secrets 2)

He gently lays his hand on top of my wrist and jolts of electricity surge through me stemming from my fingertips all the way down to my toes. Inching closer to me, too close for my comfort he leans in with a whisper, “Savannah, I hope I don’t make ya nervous, sweetheart.”

My eyes flutter to his and the blue swirling ocean waves of his irises calm me briefly. “Sorry, I-I get nervous with men. I-it’s nothing to do with you, really.” I stammer, my tongue feeling too thick to talk. He squeezes my hand lightly before letting go and giving me space. I release the breath I’m holding and rub my sweaty palms down the top of my jeans.

“I understand. Please, don’t be nervous with me though. I promise you, I don’t bite.”

Carly returns to the living room just as Emma begins to say her goodbyes. Realizing how late it is, I gather the kids so we can head home. Passing around hugs to everyone, my heart stops when Luke gives each of the kids a high five, then opens his arms to hug me. I don’t want to be rude, so I slip one arm around his waist and hug him quickly. Before I can step away he embraces me closely, both arms tightly around my waist with his face pressed into my hair. “Take care of yourself, sweetheart.” He whispers before releasing me.

I step away from him, nodding my head as I keep my eyes trained on him. Bumping into Carly, she laughs and wraps me into a hug. “Girls day, we gotta do that again soon.”

“Sounds good.”

“Once we find out if the little monkey is a girl or a boy, we’ll close down Babies ‘R’ Us, okay!” She giggles; the excitement and happiness radiates from her.

I’d give anything to have just a morsel of her joy. My knight in shining armor is really just an oger in disguise and my happily ever after is the nightmare no woman should ever have to live through. But I plaster on that fake ass smile that is beginning to crack at the seams.

Pulling down the long driveway of our estate I hit the garage door button on the visor, and as the door pulls upward my heart constricts when I see Josh’s truck in the garage. He wasn’t supposed to be home from North Carolina until Sunday. I glance at the clock on the dash, checking the date and time, sure that he said Sunday, not Wednesday. I gather the kids from the back of the SUV and tell Brailee to get her shower first so they can get ready for bed. When we walk into the living room, the kids run and jump into Josh’s lap, squealing with excitement that he’s home early.

The kids have been blessed. They have never seen Josh raise a hand to batter my face. Hell, I don’t think they’ve ever truly saw him angry. The picture they portray of their daddy is what every innocent seven year child should see; a sweet, loving Daddy who hung the moon and stars high in the sky. He rough houses with them as they tackle him to the floor and he tickles them both into a fit of laughter. I stand quietly, watching the rare genuine smile that melts to his face as he plays with the kids and it tugs at my heart just a little. I want to love my husband so badly, but after all of the heartache and physical pain I’ve sustained, my heart has hardened and I’m merely the empty shell of the woman I once was.

“Alright kids, it’s past your bedtime so get your showers and get in bed.” Josh stands firmly on his feet, speaking with cold, hard steel laced in his voice. The kids run off upstairs to get ready for bed and as soon as they are out of sight he approaches me.

“Glad you’re home, honey. What cut your trip short?” I ask tipping up on my toes to peck his cheek. He leans into me running his fingertips down my bicep, gripping my elbows tightly in his fist.

“Where the hell have you been, Savannah?” He inhales deeply, sniffing my neck then my sweater. “Why the fuck do you smell like cologne?”

“Cologne?” I question, turning my face into my shoulder inhaling Luke’s woodsy scent. A soothing calm envelops me until he tightens his grip pinching my flesh with his steel corded hands. Stammering around my words I try to explain, but I know it will do no good. “Carly invited us over to dinner so she and Colton could announce that they are expecting. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“You still didn’t answer my question, Savannah. Now, why do you smell like fuckin’ cologne?”

“I-I don’t know. I hugged Colton before I left, maybe it’s his cologne you’re smelling.”

I try to pull away from his grasp, but he grips my throat in his hand, dragging me up to meet his face. A blazing inferno of hatred flashes in his eyes and my body shudders in fear. “Are you a fuckin’ whore, Savannah?” Tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to let him see me cry. I refuse to thrill his demented, masochistic mind by letting him see my pain.

“N-no,” I mutter slowly as my throat runs dry, begging for air as he clenches my throat harder.

“Get the hell upstairs, bath the kids then take your fuckin’ trashy ass to the bedroom and wait for me there.” He spits through gritted teeth, his saliva spraying on my lips. He drops me to the floor and stomps off to his office.

I trudge upstairs slowly to help the kids get ready for bed. After they’ve had their baths and brushed their teeth, I read them a bedtime story before tucking them in tightly. As we whisper our nightly prayers, I pray for protection from my husband’s hand. Kissing the kids goodnight I flip off the light, pulling the door behind me softly so they don’t have to hear my tortured cries.

I know the affliction that Josh has planned for me, and I have to will my cemented feet to move, dragging them slowly behind me as dread soaks through my bones of what awaits me.

Opening our bedroom door, I hear his mantra, “Confessions of Hatred” by Sevendust. He always taunts me with psychotic blasts of metal when he’s angry. The lyrics of the songs lash at me, and I feel all the hate he harbors for me without him lifting a finger. Just make me a playlist filled with all of your disgusting screaming lyrics, expressing the dark hatred that fills your veins. But please don’t continue to crack everything that I am.

The room is dark, but the embers of his cigarette light up momentarily, drawing my attention to the corner of the room where he’s sitting. He only smokes when anger controls him. I ignore his presence, going into the bathroom to change into my pajamas. Find the courage to fight, Savannah, my conscious urges me but I don’t think I have the strength.

Before I can pull the fleece bottoms over my thighs, Josh rips the bathroom door from the hinges, splinters of wood scattering about the floor as he thrusts me against the wall with his fist tightly clenched around my throat. My head smacks the wall and my vision blurs. I lurch forward as his knee slams into my stomach knocking the air into my throat. I can’t breathe. He squeezes my throat tighter, and the sinister smile that meets his flaming, wild eyes paralyzes me. My eyes roll back and I pray for death to carry me home.

“Don’t you pass out!” He screams in my ear, jolting me back to reality. He throws my body through the door way and my head crashes into the footboard when I land. Stomping towards me, Josh grips his fist through my hair as he leans down and spits in my face. “Open your damn eyes, you stupid bitch. I want to see the fear in your fuckin’ eyes as I inflict you with my hatred.” He slams the heel of his foot into my stomach and my knees wince forward as I roll to the side, vomit spewing from my lips, splattering all over his feet. “Nice! Fuckin’ nice!” He yells, covering his mouth with his hand. He hates vomit. The thought, the sight, the smell disgusts him. He stomps into the bathroom to wash his feet off, leaving me lying miserably on the floor.

“Josh, please.” I beg and I don’t know whether I’m begging for him to kill me or to just leave.

“Clean that fuckin’ mess up now, Savannah. Then get your ass in the bed, so I can teach you a lesson you’ll not forget.” He yells from the bathroom.

I find the strength to crawl into the bathroom. The tears that glaze my eyes dry instantly when I look in the mirror. Emptiness stares back at me and I don’t recognize the woman I see gazing back at me. Disgusted by the reflection pleading with me to find a safe harbor, I pull Lysol, an old cloth and bucket from the cabinet.

My sides ache in protest as I bend down on my hands and knees to scrub up the putrid vomit. Taking my time, I scrub harshly against the carpet trying to bore Josh from inflicting me more. The song switches on the iPod and the metal thrashing sound of Some Kind of Monster by Metallica grips my heart. Josh clutches my elbow, dragging me behind him then he forcefully tosses me on the bed. He strips my clothes from my body then tugs my hair back in his fist. “On your fuckin’ knees,” he spits across my face.

Obeying his commands I crawl up the bed on my knees, burying my face in my pillow. Suffocation would be an easier death than enduring this pain. I hear the metal of his belt cling as he removes it from his pants and my body cringes knowing what’s next.