Walk With Me

7. The Many Facets of Silence

After his final pull of his drink, the glass is sent flying against the wall before I can even gather what is actually happening. My body jolts at the sound, one that I should be used to hearing. I quickly stand to begin picking up the fragmented pieces of glass now littering the floor. I turn my back to him, trying to settle the spinning ache in my stomach.

"Don't fucking lie to me, Amber. I saw the search history. You're looking for places to rent in California!"

Reckless. I was reckless. Using my phone to search up places during my lunch. I should have had Angela do the searching. I know better than to leave my tracks so obviously out in the open.

I slowly turn to face him now, and the sight of his now red face and dark eyes has my chest constricting. I take a forced breath, pushing the air down. "I'm visiting my family in a couple weeks, that's all that is. I thought it might be nice for Mia and me to have our own little place when we go."

Though I kept my words calm, as calm as I could, he doesn't buy it. He is quickly on his feet, causing me to do the same, to try to be bigger, stronger. It's never enough though. Just as I get to my feet, his hand is immediately on my neck, gripping tight as I am slammed against the wall behind me. A sharp pain shoots across my back, spreading out in throbbing waves.

"Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I can't piece together a few fucking facts?" he shouts, lifting my body from the wall before slamming it back again, this time sending the ache rattling through my head.

"No," I whisper, suddenly aware of the grip across my throat as the word barely escapes my lips.

"No? No, what?" his fingers dig into the side of my neck, constricting the air even more.

"No, you're not stupid," I rasp, grasping for air to fill in the words that just escaped. I can't seem to get it back though. I can't seem to replace the lost air.

"So, what were you doing looking at places in California?"

My body is crumbling, aching, begging for a small ounce of oxygen. My eyes are glossing over with water as the edges become blurry.

"Vince," my voice scrapes against the walls of my throat, fighting to get out. "I...can't...breathe."

His body presses closer to mine, pushing me harder against the wall. "Remember this feeling, Amber. I am in control. You will not leave this home without my say. You will not make decisions without my consent. And you will not take my daughter, because the moment you attempt anything, I will make sure she remains mine. I will make sure you never see her again."

His grip slowly releases but not before slamming me back into the wall. I don't speak. I don't react. These are the words he always resorts to. The same threats I know he couldn't possibly follow through with, but that scare me more than any bruise he's ever inflicted.

His body is still pressed against mine, his knee digging into my thigh as his hands move to my arms, holding me tightly in place.

"Do you want to try that again?" he asks against my lips.

Everything has left me now. The shell that remains has surrendered long ago. He's taken so much, taken until there was nothing left. That's when my survival instincts kick in. When I'm done grasping for the faint glimmer of hope. When I know that if I don't concede that it could be my end.

"I would never leave you, Vince. I love you," I force the vile words from my mouth, the very ones that leave a bitter taste on my tongue.

His hand slides up my body, landing on my breast, cupping it firmly as his knee pulls back from my leg. His grip is still tight, but the pain his hands were inflicting is lifting. I can already feel the exact places that will need covering up tomorrow. The throb on my left arm and right thigh will leave a mark. The left side of my neck will be subtle, but the fact that I still feel a sense of soreness there tells me I'll need a scarf for the next week.