Ugly(67)

“Trent!” I yell, but I’m still mindful we have neighbors in the apartment complex we’re living in. “You’re hurting me, please stop,” I beg.

Trent’s laugh is so evil, it’s soul-consuming, as if he’s reaching inside me and killing the small amount of life left in me. Like a plant, finally dying as it fades away from a lack of sun or water. He’s killing one of the last parts of me.

“Trent.” I finally break down and cry. The pain has gone, I can no longer feel the heat of the spoon, all I can feel is nothing.

“That was funny.” He lets go of me, and pushes me off his leg. I fall back on my bottom and look to see the angry, red welt on my arm. “Should’ve seen your face, one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen. You were wriggling around, and crying. Honestly, babe, I haven’t seen anything funnier.” He stands and goes toward the bedroom.

I keep looking at the wound, and I know it’ll need medical attention. “Trent, I’m hurting.”

“You’ll be fine, babe. It’s just a scratch. Put it under cold water,” he loudly says from the bedroom. “Then if you really can’t cope with that small scratch, put some ointment on it.”

I stand from where I was pushed to the ground, and run the wound under water. Then I go to the medicine cabinet and take out a small tube of ointment, rubbing it onto my wound.

“Trent, I don’t think I should come today. I’ve still got that paper of yours to finish.” I’m trying to stay here so I don’t have to go anywhere near John. “I really want it perfect for you.” I nurse my wound, and where he had pushed the spoon onto my arm, there’s an ugly, red mark. The skin around it is irritated and flaming hot. Just as hot as the blood is below my sensitive skin.

“No, babe, you gotta come. What kind of wife doesn’t want to come to her husband’s family Thanksgiving? There’s a long drive ahead of us, and you know how long drives make me. Hurry up so we can get on the road.”

My shoulders slump in resignation, and I get my handbag, not like there’s anything of importance in it. Just a small packet of tissues, and my purse which never holds more than my bus money, but I decide to leave it behind because there’s nothing I need.

By the time we leave, it’s near five am. The entire time we’re driving, Trent is silent with me. My burn is stinging, but I try and keep the pain inside so he doesn’t tell me I’m a baby for complaining.

When we’re about half hour from John’s place, a call comes through on the car’s Bluetooth. Trent looks at the number displayed and smiles. He then gets his phone and answers it, taking the call off the speaker.

“I can’t talk now, I’m driving,” he says. He listens for a few seconds and smiles. “Yeah, but I can’t now.” He keeps listening and nods his head. “Tonight, when I drop her off.” He emphasizes ‘her’ and I know he’s talking about me. “Okay,” he whispers in a soft voice and steals a quick side-ways glance at me.

I tune out from this point, I close my eyes and hope the next half hour is spent in as much silence as the first few hours.

“Mommy, can I have an ice cream?” Wade asks Mommy as we can both hear the ice cream truck’s bells come toward our home.

“No. It’ll spoil dinner.”

“I want an ice cream!” he shouts and stamps his foot. “I want an ice cream!” he yells again.

“I said no, Wade.”

“Hey, Lily, wake up,” Trent says and hits my leg.

Opening my eyes I see we’re at John’s house, and I look over to Trent, who’s getting out of the car. I get out and walk to the front door, behind Trent. “I should’ve made a pumpkin pie,” I whisper to Trent.

He knocks on the door, and John opens it. He’s holding a drink in his hand and his beady eyes go directly to me. He looks me over as if I’m a piece of meat he’s been wanting to try. He brings the drink up to his lips and steps aside to let us in.

“Look at you two. I haven’t seen you in a long time.” Trent walks ahead of me, and when I enter John grabs my bottom and squeezes it.

I turn my head to look at him, frowning at him. “Don’t,” I say in a quiet voice.

He licks his lips and then flutters his tongue at me. It’s disgusting, he’s revolting and I just don’t want to be anywhere near him.

When we go into the back room, which is set up as an indoor entertainment area, Mr. and Mrs. Hackly are both already here.

“How are you, dear?” Lina says and gives me a hug. “You’re way too skinny. You need to put on weight.” She wraps her arms around me and squeezes me.