PROLOGUE
Ophelia slumped over, her hands on her head, as she looked down at the pregnancy test in her hand. Positive. Great.
For most women in their mid 20s, this would be exciting news. In Ophelia’s case, she was terrified.
Jason, her husband of 5 years, had been a loving and kind man when they’d first married, but when he changed professions from social worker to police officer, things changed; both for him, and for their marriage.
At first it was just a raised voice here, a punched wall there…but recently it had escalated.
Only a couple of days ago, he’d slapped her across the face when she broke a coffee cup while doing the dishes.
She didn’t know what to do. She stood in front of the mirror, looking at her reflection.
Pale, sickly looking skin, dull brown eyes, and lifeless dark hair stared back at her.
Typically, her features were attractive, but after a few weeks of what was apparently morning sickness, her beauty had dimmed considerably.
She’d told herself she’d never be with an abusive man after she’d grown up watching her father beat her mother.
When it happened to her, she realized why women stay.
Jay was no longer the man she’d married, but before he’d changed, she’d fallen deeply in love with him. As a therapist, she should know better, but in her heart of hearts, she still held out hope that she could fix him. That their love would eventually fix him.
They met in high school, when she was 15 and he was 17. He was the best player on their school’s basketball team, but also got straight A’s. The teachers, his parents, even Ophelia herself, had high hopes for him and his future.
When he got a scholarship to a great college, it just made sense. But life doesn’t always turn out the way you want it to, and a complex wrist injury he’d suffered during a foul gone wrong ended his athletic aspirations.
It was incredibly devastating to him.
Many tears were shed and conversations had before Jason decided to buckle down and put his all into the social work diploma he’d been aiming for.
Hours of study and some interesting work experience later, Jason got his first job as a social worker at the age of 21.
Basking in the glow of his first real job, he’d asked 19 year old Ophelia, his girlfriend of 4 years, to be his wife.
Marrying six months later, the world was at their fingertips. Or so it seemed.
He was a great social worker and loved his job, but when a friend of his joined the police force, he was enticed by the better pay and insurance package, and decided to apply his talents in a different career.
At first things were great. He enjoyed the work, and she was able to focus more on graduating since he was so busy. About a year ago, after she graduated university, that was when things began to change for the worse.
She got a phone call one day that he’d been injured at work and she needed to go meet him at the hospital. When she arrived, he was bloodied and bruised and wouldn’t—no, to be fair to him, he couldn’t—talk to her.
For months after that, he was a shell of himself. Couldn’t sleep, didn’t talk much, and didn’t seem interested in her anymore.
Eventually things started to improve, and Ophelia finally thought things were looking up.
How wrong she was.
As she tried to come to terms with her new reality,she looked back to the night Jason had shown her his darker side for the first time.
She was making dinner for the two of them one night when Jason walked through the door, enraged.
He immediately started in on her about dinner not being ready the second he got home, and how there were still dishes in the sink and mail on the counter.
“Jay, please,” she said, her voice shaking. “I’ve only been home for a half hour, I haven’t had time to do the dishes yet. I’m sorry.”
He growled angrily at her.
“Not good enough, Lia. You fucking know I expect dinner on the table when I get home. Dammit!”
Infuriated, he punched the wall before pinning her against the counter.
He gripped her arms so hard she knew they were gonna bruise.
“I'm sorry,” Lia sobbed. “I'm so sorry.”
“You’re such a useless bitch, Ophelia. I don’t even know why I stay with you anymore. You make me sick.”
Jason stormed out of the room, presumably to go shower, and Ophelia slumped to the floor.
With shaking hands, she left the bathroom, hoping against all hope that this pregnancy could fix something for them.
Dutifully, she began to cook dinner; Jason’s favorite, steak and potatoes.
She hoped that cooking him his favorite meal would soften him up enough that she could tell him her news without any unnecessary conflict.
Humming, she reached for the pot to check on the potatoes as Jason came into the house like a hurricane, slamming the door against the wall, hard.
She shrieked, dropping the potato masher into the pot and splashing her arm with boiling water.
Hissing in pain, she turned around to face her husband.
“Jason, what the hell?”
She tried and failed to keep the frustration out of her voice.
“Are you trying to start shit with me when I just walked in the door, Ophelia? What the fuck?!”
His voice was slurred and his eyes bloodshot. He was clearly drunk. There was also a clear floral scent surrounding him; some other woman’s perfume, perhaps.
He cheated on me? But…why?
Fighting back tears, she looked him directly in the eyes.
“No, I’m not. You’re the one starting shit.. I have been making this nice dinner for you and you come home DRUNK, smelling of another woman’s perfume? How dare you? Jason, why would you do this to me?!”
Jason looked at her, his gaze teeming with rage.
“You little…”
He slapped her across the face, the sound resounding through the kitchen.
She cradled her cheek, too shocked to cry, and just stared at him.
When she finally found her voice again, it quivered as she spoke.
“You…hit me? Why? Why would you—”
He cut her off, grabbing her by the arm and flinging her into the kitchen table, knocking over a chair.
“I fucking hate you, Ophelia. You’re nothing to me! Useless and ugly to boot. Why don’t you just get the fuck out of my house, huh?”
She tried to speak once more.
“J-Jason, I—”
He shook his head. “You know what? Fuck this shit. I’m going out.”
He turned his back on her and stormed out of the house once again, the familiar sound of the door slamming assaulting her senses.
She tried to stand but an agonizing cramp ripped through her stomach, causing her to crumple in on herself.
No, the baby!
Shakily, she stood up, hunching over as she made her way to the bathroom.
When she sat on the toilet, she saw the tell tale streaks of blood in her underwear and something in her just…snapped.
I can’t…I can’t…I just can’t do this anymore. I’m done.
She dragged herself into the shower, standing under the warm water as she watched the hopes and dreams she’d had for them run down her legs and into the drain. She’d only just learned that she was going to be a mother, and now it’s over, thanks to him.
How much more am I willing to lose at his hands?
