Free Fighting for Arielle by Karina Sharp Page A

regain my bearings and process what just happened, I feel numb and hollow.  Letting out all of those emotions has now left me feeling empty and confused.  Everything she said is true.  I know it is, and have known it for some time, but I haven’t yet had the courage or the push to do anything about my situation.  I’ve been standing in place, not moving in any direction, yet somehow my life’s goals, ambition, and drive continually move further out of my reach.  Right now, my senses are overloaded with fears of whether or not I can stand on my own two feet or if I even have any place to go, should I decide to escape my situation.  I used to think that getting a divorce seemed like admitting defeat and giving up, but I am beginning to see that if I can accept that I did something human, which is that I made a mistake, and put the potential for happiness in my pride’s place, I just might be able to be move closer to those lost dreams and desires for life.  
    I reach for the doorknob of my apartment, facing my present predicament , and let out a weary and defeated sigh.  All of those things are good in theory, but for right now, I have to accept the reality that I created and enter what has now become very much like my tomb.

Chapter 8
     
     
    Arielle
    I silently enter the apartment, which is unusually quiet.  Perhaps everyone has passed out early, or they took the party elsewhere.  Either way, I am relieved to come home to a bit of calm after all of the mess I just let out in Macy’s car.  
    I head to the bathroom to wash my face and whisper, “Hey Swanks,” as I pass through the living room.  
    Swanks pauses and allows me to pet him as always.  His head is grooved, yet soft as always, and I find the texture of his shell calming.  
    “I’m heading to bed,” I tell him.  He nods his head in understanding, and I hear the clacking of his feet on the floor as he moves back to his favorite resting spot.
    Kicking off my heels and reveling in the release of my poor feet from their pointed cages, I hear Brody stir.  I am really disappointed to know that he’s home.  Hopefully, he will be too sleepy or out of it to talk to me.
    “Ari,” he croaks from the bedroom , and I hear him move around in the bed.
    I peek my head around the corner of the bedroom door.  
    “Hey,” I whisper.  “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to disturb you.  I’ll just go lie down on the couch.”
    I try to get back to washing my face, but am thwarted when he says, “Ari,” a little more clearly this time.  “You didn’t come show me your outfit before you left.”
    My stomach drops , and I halt in my tracks.  I think back to before I left and remember he was asleep.  “You were asleep when I left, and I know how tired you’ve been from working so much.”
    Brody sits up on the bed and turns on the bedside lamp.  He blinks his eyes several times and rubs both of his hands on his face.  “I didn’t say ‘don’t wake me,’ Ari.  I said to make sure you let me see you in your outfit before you left,” he spits out.
    Feeling unusually bold, I roll my shoulders back, walk to the foot of the bed, and say, “Well, this is the dress.  You can see me in it now.”
    Sensing my change in tone, I see his chest heave in anger.  “I can see this is the same fucking dress, but I wanted to see you BEFORE you left, when you looked hot.  Not now with your hair all sweaty and your makeup smeared and shit.”
    I stumble back away from the bed as fear bleeds into my chest.  I can see where this is going if I don’t play it smart.  
    “I’m sorry, Brody.  I just thought you would prefer to sleep and rest.  You see me all of the time, but you don’t get sleep as often.”
    I’ve really upset him, more than I usually do.  On the one hand, I want to stand up for myself and scream at him and make him feel every bit of pain and loathing I’ve ever felt, but on the other hand, I’m terrified of how he might react.