Fires of the heart

Manipulation

The car ride home was a tense affair. Justin, exhausted from the day's upheaval, slept soundly in the back seat. Maryanne stared out the window, the familiar streets blurring into a canvas of indecision.
As soon as they stepped inside the house, Dr. Richard scooped Justin into his arms, his voice booming with feigned cheer as he carried him towards the bedroom.
Maryanne followed, her heart a lead weight in her chest. Once Justin was tucked into bed, Dr. Richard turned to her, his smile gone, replaced by a cold, predatory glint in his eyes.
He slammed the bedroom door shut with a sickening thud. The sudden loud noise startled Maryanne, who jumped back instinctively.
"Where do you think you're going?" Dr. Richard growled, his voice low and menacing.
Maryanne opened her mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come. Her carefully constructed facade of compliance crumbled under his icy stare.
"You think you can just waltz out of here like that?" he continued, his voice laced with fury. "Do you have any idea what you've put me through?"
Before Maryanne could even stammer out a reply, his hand shot out, a lightning-fast slap that connected with the side of her face. The world spun briefly, a stinging pain blossoming on her cheek.
"Don't you ever use that vulgar language with me again, Maryanne," he hissed, his voice dripping with venom. "Especially not in front of company."
Tears welled up in Maryanne's eyes, blurring her vision.  She flinched back, but Dr. Richard advanced, his shadow looming over her.
"And how dare you disrespect me like that?" he roared, each word punctuated by a brutal slap that echoed in the stillness of the room. "Your husband! You will show me respect, Maryanne!"
The world tilted on its axis. Maryanne tasted blood on her lip, the metallic tang a stark contrast to the overwhelming fear that gripped her.
Four, five slaps in total, each one a brutal reminder of her perceived transgressions: leaving the house, questioning him, daring to think of a different life.
With each blow, the carefully constructed image of the concerned husband disintegrated, replaced by the ugly truth: a controlling, manipulative man.
Finally, Dr. Richard stopped, his chest heaving with exertion. Maryanne slumped against the wall, her body trembling, her mind a chaotic storm of emotions – fear, anger, betrayal.
But something else flickered amidst the wreckage – a spark of defiance.
She looked up at him, her eyes filled not with fear, but with a newfound clarity.  The words she wanted to say, the eloquent defense she'd envisioned, remained elusive. All that escaped her lips was a choked sob.
The sight of her silent tears seemed to further enrage him.  "Look at you," he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "Pathetic."
He stormed out of the room, leaving Maryanne alone with the deafening silence and the throbbing pain in her face.
In the aftermath of the assault, she sank to the floor, her body wracked with silent sobs.  The dream of a peaceful reconciliation lay shattered, replaced by a horrifying reality.