Free Home for the Holidays by Rochelle Alers

high-profile D.C. litigator Derrick Harris and marrying him six months later. “Even though I wasn’t a virgin, we made love for the first time on our wedding night.”
    Collier froze. “Is that something you both agreed to?”
    She nodded. “He insisted on it because of his very strict Christian upbringing, and I had to respect that. But what should’ve been one of the most enjoyable nights of my life bordered on rape. No matter how much I screamed that he was hurting me, he refused to stop. The next day he pleaded with me to forgive him because he’d waited so long to make love to me that he’d gone temporarily insane.
    â€œIt was another month before we tried it again, and the result was the same. It was like he felt he needed to dominate me in and out of bed. That’s when I moved into the spare bedroom and put a lock on the door. It was all about appearances when we were out in public together. No one would’ve ever suspected we weren’t sleeping together. Soon Derrick began scrutinizing everything I wore. It couldn’t be too tight, reveal too much skin, and most of the clothes in my closet were either navy blue or black. No reds because he didn’t want people think he’d married a harlot.”
    She told Collier that the only time she felt totally free was at the Baltimore high school where she taught art to a small group of very talented students. She hated coming home where her overcritical husband complained that he’d married the wrong woman because she refused to measure up to his standards, and whenever she talked about divorcing him, he threatened to ruin her life so she’d never teach again.
    â€œThere were times when I’d asked myself what I could have done to make my marriage work, but in the end I realized I could never become his ideal. I wanted so much to confide in a few of my colleagues, but I knew they wouldn’t understand. They kept telling me they were jealous because I’d managed to snag one of the Beltway’s most eligible bachelors. If they’d known the hell I was going through, their jealousy would’ve turned to pity.
    â€œWe’d just celebrated our first anniversary when his mother asked when I was going to make her a grandmother. I told her never, and then she went into a rant that my role as a wife was to submit to her husband and give him children. I was past being polite and respectful when I told her if she wanted grandchildren, then she should’ve taught her boy that rape isn’t the same as lovemaking.
    â€œLater that night, I found myself completely blindsided when he came home earlier than usual and sucker punched me, breaking my nose and fracturing my left cheek. He started to strangle me, but I managed to escape and make it to my bedroom where I locked the door and called the police. By the time they got there, he was gone. They took me to the hospital where I contacted my father and told him what had happened. I don’t know how Daddy got from Fort Benning Georgia, to Baltimore so quickly, but when he saw my face, he swore he was going to kill Derrick. Once he calmed down he asked if I was going to file charges for spousal battery.”
    Sitting up and cradling her face in his hands, Collier asked, “Did you?”
    â€œNo. All I wanted was my freedom and my name. I hired a prominent divorce attorney, telling her everything about my wedding night, the subsequent rape, and the assault. Even though I didn’t report the assault to the police, hospital records documented what had taken place. I was granted an annulment and a significant settlement if I swore never to disclose the details of our marriage because Derrick had decided to go into politics.
    â€œThe money allowed me to start over when I applied to the Art Institute of Raleigh-Durham for culinary arts. After graduating I got a position with a popular Charlotte restaurant chain, but left four months later