Free The Banishing by Fiona Dodwell

uncomfortable feeling that what she had seen the other night was just the beginning of something new.
    Melissa went up to the bedroom and quickly changed out of her work clothes. Mark had not returned yet from work. She was glad of his absence, fearing—irrationally, she knew—that he would read the guilt in her eyes and know she had been doing something behind his back. It wouldn’t even matter to him that she had done so in order to get help. He would just see it as a betrayal and strike out at her. There was no rationality behind his thinking, lately. All that seemed to exist was a temper waiting to explode at any given moment. Like a bomb ticking. She didn’t want to be near him when he exploded—or be the one to set him off. That’s how she felt.
    Melissa dropped her work uniform into the hamper by the door and opened her wardrobe. She pulled out a cream-colored sweater and a pair of loose-fitting jeans and put them on. She walked over to the mirror and sighed. She looked so pale, so tired. Dark circles tainted the skin beneath her eyes. She looked drawn, almost gaunt. She hadn’t had much of an appetite the last few weeks, and she had noticed her clothes had become slightly baggy.
    It was everything that was happening , she thought, her face inches away from the mirror. She watched herself, as if seeing her face for the first time, and she felt like a stranger was looking back at her from behind the glass. The woman staring back at her seemed like a mere shadow, a ghost.
    The shit that had happened with Mark. What he had done to her in bed, yesterday. The figure in the lounge the other night. The meeting with Josh Howell. It was all an untidy, problematic mess, and she hated how powerless she felt, how unable she actually was to change a single thing.
    Melissa enjoyed feeling strong, independent. Now, she felt like a weak child, just waiting to see what happened next. The whole thing scared her more than she had ever imagined anything could.
    She dropped her eyes from her reflection and made her way down the stairs. She padded into the lounge, drew the curtains against the darkening sky outside, and flipped on the small lamp. It illuminated the room, sending bright light into the far corners of the shadowy lounge.
    She went into the kitchen, and there she saw the note. It was sticking to the fridge door, hanging behind one of their many magnets. She went over and picked it up:
    Got called to another job. I’ll probably be home after midnight, so don’t worry about staying up. I’ll be thinking of you.
    Mark. X
    I’ll be thinking of you. The words that might seem romantic, now seemed laced with malice. Almost like a threat. She wadded up the note and threw it into the trash bin. Then, she smiled. A wave of relief washed over her that she would not have to see him. She would be able to spend a night alone, a normal night. A night where she wouldn’t be wondering whether he would turn on her, full of rage. A night where she wouldn’t overhear him talking to a voice that wasn’t really there.
    Melissa went over to the phone and ordered herself a small, plain, cheese pizza and a bottle of pure orange juice. The guy on the line said her order would be delivered within the hour.
    With nothing else to do, Melissa went into the lounge. She sprawled out, lying back across the three-seated leather sofa. She switched on the TV, where the main evening news was covering a story about the rape of a teenage girl by a gang of youths, and lay her head back against one of the cushions.
    Within seconds, she felt her eyes droop. They felt heavy, as if dipped in cement. She gave in, deciding that a quick nap wouldn’t hurt. She closed her eyes, the TV playing quietly in the background.
    “In other news,” the female news reader said, her voice official and authoritative, “a young, married woman has been killed by her husband. The victim, as yet unnamed by the police, was stabbed 17 times by her husband in their