Free Alone by Marissa Farrar Page A

asked to withdraw a big chunk of money, would they ask
for Jackson’s signature as well? Her card had a daily withdrawal
limit of three hundred dollars. It wouldn’t get her far and Jackson
practically lived on his computer, especially on the Internet
banking to watch the account. He knew exactly what she spent and
when. He quizzed her on their need for each item after she went
grocery shopping and, if she dared take ten dollars cash out of the
account, he would make her break down how every last cent had been
spent.
    On more than one occasion, she
had almost pointed out that she was the one who earned the money but if she’d ever allowed
the words to leave her mouth, she probably would have ended up with
a few less teeth.
    Abandoning her marriage was a much more
complicated endeavor than simply packing her bags.
     
    Serenity cooked her husband
a chicken
dinner while he lay in bed, watching sports on the small
television. He’d been complaining about the pain in his back, but
Serenity struggled to conjure up any sympathy. Her own back
throbbed with a dull ache, and though she had managed to ignore the
pain for the majority of the day, spending the past few hours
racing up and down the stairs, attending to Jackson’s demands, had
left her feeling like someone had slammed a brick into her
spine.
    Serenity put the plate of chicken and
potatoes onto a tray and added cutlery and a small salt and pepper
shaker. She braced herself as she picked up the tray and carefully
made her way back up the stairs.
    Jackson’s voice boomed from the bedroom
and she flinched at the sound.
    “ Come on, ref! You’ve got to be
joking!” he shouted at the television.
    She walked into the room and set the
tray down on his lap. He craned around her, acknowledging her
arrival by striving to ignore her further.
    Only when she stood back up did he
look at the tray.
    “ You gave me fucking carrots? You
know I hate carrots! And where’s my beer?” he demanded.
    “ I just thought…with your
pain meds… you might not be ...”
    “ Since when have you needed
to think?” he sniped.
    “ I’m sorry, I’ll just ...” She
reached down to take the tray away at the same time Jackson reached
for the fork. His arm hit her hand and the tray tipped, spilling
hot gravy and chicken all over the bed.
    She stared at the mess in horror,
unable to move. Both of them paused, each waiting for the other to
react. Serenity didn’t even dare to breathe.
    Jackson didn’t look up. He spread his
hands out above the mess on the duvet. “You stupid, little, bitch,”
he said slowly. “Can’t you do anything right?”
    “ I’m so sorry, Jackson,” she said
in a rush. “I’ll clean it up.”
    She moved forward and bent over the spilt
tray, picking bits of chicken and potatoes from the sheets. She was
intensely conscious of him poised above her, even though he sat in
bed. Anger radiated from him, a low hum of nearly audible violence.
If he wasn’t in bed, injured, Jackson would have thrown her across
the room by now. He wouldn’t let this one go. Whether he got her
for it now or later, she would be punished.
    Serenity didn’t wait long.
    One of Jackson’s large hands grabbed
the back of her head. Like he was trying to drown her in the bath
instead of a bed full of gravy, he shoved her face down into the
spilt meal.
    She couldn’t breathe! Hot food
scalded her face; forehead, cheeks and the end of her nose pressed into the
hot gravy. She could feel her flesh reddening and still he kept
pushing, mashing her face against the covers. The taste of chicken
and gravy lodged in the back of her throat and she gagged, making
her gulps for air even worse.
    Desperately, Serenity tried to pull away
but Jackson pushed her face down harder into the gravy.
    “ Does it taste good?” he
spat, punctuating his words with an extra shove. “Huh, you stupid
little bitch?”
    Another shove.
    She pushed back up with her hands and
he gave her enough space to let her take one