I'm Sorry, I love you

Chapter 36

Dinner is a silent affair, Michael occasionally staring at me as I stab the pasta on my plate my appetite having deserted me. I can't stomach being around me, the words from the little black book practically scrawled on his face. Daisy sits by my side, tail wagging as she waits for scraps that I usually drop at her. She's gotten so big since our last trip to the woods. I missed her so much and worried she'd forget who I was but she's as loyal as ever. I scratch her ear feeding her chicken from my plate which she greedily swallows. Michael slams his cutlery onto the table earning a deep growl from Daisy who moves closer to me.
"For fuck sake, stop feeding that mutt my hard earned food!"
Still angry and humiliated at my earlier discovery, I stare at Michael defiantly as I feed her another scrap. His plate hits me faster than I can duck, the edge splintering my cheekbone. The pain is instant, burning food covering me. I shriek, desperately trying to get the meal off my clothes and skin. Michael looks over me, lifting me up by my throat so that my feet dangle inches above the floor. I can't breathe. Clawing at his hands does little to help. His face is multimeters from my own. In a moment of desperation I try to bite his nose hoping it will cause enough pain for his grip to loosen. I fail.
"Oh. We're biting are we?"
His words are fuelled with venom. I scream - though it comes out as a gurgle -  as his teeth sink into my cheek drawing blood. I can't fight the tears as he bites me again and again, tearing small chunks of flesh from my face. The pain is unlike anything I've experienced before. Daisy growls at his feet, though it has little effect. He lashes out at her with his feet as he throws me backwards onto the dining table. Plates still filled with food shatter on the floor. In an instant Daisy has her jaws clamped around Michael's ankle. He yells trying to shake her off with little success. I watch in horror as he rips the lamp from the socket and hits Daisy over the head. I cry out, running forward to help her. Michael kicks my stomach instantly winding me. I'm forced to watch as he hits her again and again. Her yelp is pitiful as he continues until there's silence. I scream, clambering over to her still body, chest no longer rising. My baby. My poor sweet baby. I hold her and allow myself to break down into her fur. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. He's taken everything from me. Destroyed everything he touched.
"Clean this mess up. I've got a meeting out of town. Don't make me angry again,"
Ignoring him I continue to hold Daisy, praying for her to come back to me. Kicking the broken plate, Michael grabs his car keys and leaves, the house shaking at his departure. I don't move, can't move. My throat hurts, face hurts. I lay next to Daisy, pulling her body close into a hug as we did many times over the months. I breathe her musty scent in and noisily cry into her neck. The broken plate and food lingers behind me untouched. I make no effort to clean it.

The house is silent aside from my sobs and the ticking of the antique clock on the dining room wall. I don't know how long I've been laying here, Daisy getting colder in my arms, but darkness has fallen completely outside. I shouldn't have fed her that chicken. Shouldn't have angered him again. Playing with fire gets you burned. Or results in the murder of your dog. I'm angry at myself for trying to beat Michael. For trying to win. Admitting defeat I pull myself to my feet, clear the table and floor before loading the dishwasher. I need to bury her. I can't leave her like that and there's no way Michael would let me have her cremated. It would be too obvious that foul play caused her death. He's not that stupid. Retrieving the shovel from the shed, I begin to dig a hole in the flower beds she loved to frolic in. I can't stop the tears silently falling as I dig deeper and deeper. She's heavy when I lift her, heavier than normal at least. It takes all my strength to lay her carefully in the ground before grabbing handfuls of dirt and dropping it on top of her. I'm sorry I whisper over and over as less and less of her golden fur is visible. I don't care how I must look, skulking about in the dirt, should my neighbours peer into our garden. I don't care that my clothes, face and hands are covered in mud. I don't care that rain has started to pour down on me, each drop like a razor blade. I don't care about anything.

Shivering, my clothes plastered to my skin, I shuffle back into the house. It's eerily silent without Daisy's feet padding from room to room. Muddy footprints follow behind me. I leave them there, no longer caring what Michael does to me. I'll be long gone before he returns. He'll be out of my life for good, one way or another. Fuck patience and planning. I cannot spend another second trapped in this place. If he finds me I'll deal with it. With the code fresh in my mind I mindlessly wander to my bedroom. Punching the combination into the safe is a painful experience, my fingers freezing from being outside, but thankfully it works. The safe clicks open. I could scream do joy when I find my birth certificate and passport nestled inside. Grabbing them and a stack of money I stuff them into my handbag and lock the safe behind me.

Safe in the knowledge that Michael won't be home anytime soon, I stand in the hot shower watching the mud and blood pool around my feet. The warmth sends shooting pains through my fingers as they desperately try to warm up. Lathering soap into my skin I wince as the bubbles seep into my wounds. Clean, dry and in fresh pyjamas - my wet clothes in a heap on the bathroom floor - I crawl into bed holding Daisy's collar. I'm too exhausted to do much of anything let alone escape right now.

I pull the duvet to my chin. Safe in a cocoon of cotton I let myself cry. An anguished cry of pain. Of loss. For a child I barely got to know and love. For a dog I loved like she was my child. I cry until I can cry no more. Silence replaces the screams muffled by my hands. It's so unfair. Growing up I had wanted nothing more than to be a mother like my own. To be nurturing and kind as she was. To cradle a small bundle, the newborn smell of talcum powder tickling my nostrils. To sing lullabies and read bedtime stories. To nurse a child to my breast and speak softly of all my hopes and dreams for their future. Everything I had hoped for snatched away in a moment of cruel anger. The chance to be mother given to me in the form of a golden bundle, someone to curl up with and talk to, again ripped from my clutches. I hate him. Truly and deeply loathe him. I don't know why I stayed for so long. Put up with the torture he inflicted. Didn't see just how long the abuse had been going on. I refuse to any longer. I'm going to do it. I can't wait. Won't wait. I'm going to leave. There's too much pain and grief here. In the very marrow of the house. I'm leaving. Tomorrow. I'm doing it. I'll be free. My eyes grow heavy, exhaustion manifested from grief. I'm leaving tomorrow, I tell myself one last time before sleep cradles me.