Free Judas by Chandler Lacey-Payne Page B

demanded.
“I don't want to talk about it. Go to sleep.”
“NO! I want to know who you were with tonight, and for god sake's, why?” she choked out, as the tears flowed freely.
“I answer to no one, Adessa. Not even you.” His words were cold and she winced as if she had been slapped. "Don't ever question me again."
"Like hell I won't! I don't share, Judas!" she wailed, pounding her small fists against his chest.
              He remained completely calm, despite her tantrum. "Then you will learn." His voice was soft, and if she hadn't been so irate, she would have realized how much those words hurt him.
"You are MY husband and NO ONE has the right to touch you. You are MINE!" she shrieked at him.
"I am mine." he bit out evenly, tempering his words. He knew there was nothing he could say to ease her mind and he refused to lie, no matter how bad it made him sound. He was a prick for doing this to her but it was all the truth.
She grabbed his wallet from the table and started to rifle through it, littering the contents across the floor as she crossed the room. He laid there watching, not stopping her. He had made this mess and he would face it. She needed to get past the anger so they could eventually talk. This scene was not new to him, though it was the first time with Adessa as his wife.
              She found a withdraw slip from the bank, dated only days ago and it took all she had not to scream. "Can I ask where the five thousand dollars is that you withdrew?" she asked icily. She was shaking now, and her face was so swollen from her tears, he barely even recognized her as he caught her glare.
"Nope." He stated flatly, standing his ground. He knew she deserved the answer but he also knew he couldn't explain.
"You bastard." With the broken reply, she slung the empty wallet and left the room.
              He cursed himself under his breath, settling into the warmth of his bed. Their bed. He needed her so much right now, and he knew there was no way she would let him touch her. He laid there listening to her sobbing as she sat outside the bedroom door. The battle lines had just been drawn. He had no idea if she would still be here tomorrow. The thought sent him into a panic. He stood and walked to the door. “Come to bed, doll. I'll sleep on the couch if you want,” he offered.
“Go to hell,” she snapped.
              “Please, Adessa. We can talk tomorrow. Just don't leave me,” he said, nearly pleading. When she didn't budge, he sat down on the floor beside her and reached out to stroke her hair.
She wiped her bloodshot eyes and shook her head. “How could you?”
He said nothing in response. He wasn't able to go over it all right now.
“I'll be in the room across the hall.”
He hung his head and watched her go. It would be hours before he would finally sleep.
              The house was quiet when he woke, and the day was half over. The guilt and the disgust had kept him awake, nearly strangling him, even in his dreams. The visions of last night played in his mind like a silent film that kept repeating. Her seductive glance and the sway of her hips as she walked toward him, and then the way his nostrils flared before he shoved her to the floor. He could even see the mascara that ran down her cheeks as she watched him go. It made him ill.
              He scrambled to the toilet, purging anything that had been left in his stomach and laid there on the cold tile for what seemed like hours as the guilt consumed him. He thought of Adessa and the pain she must feel. He knew he had to talk to her, but had no idea what to say. Then it occurred to him that he didn't even know if she had left him. Fresh panic rose in his chest as he peeled himself up from the floor and began to wander the house looking for clues. Everything was just as it was, save for the rumpled sheets in the spare room, and it gave him just enough