Free Soul Corrupted by Lisa Gail Green Page A

is
full of water in anticipation of my return home from my latest tryst. Maxwell
always slept through my absences, so why bother freshening up before coming
home?
    I seem to be in control of my movements. Maybe I can
do things differently this time and change the outcome? Of course, I’ll still be
dead, but I don’t have to play the part like the same naïve child I was when it
happened.
    I strip, just like I did on that night. No need to
stay in such uncomfortable clothing no matter what I choose to do next. After I
slip on my gauzy nightgown, I pause, staring at my brute of a husband snoring
in the bed.
    I remember my plan. Take the vial hidden in my dresser
drawer, climb in beside Max, and let the contents of the poison trickle into
his mouth. It would only take a minute and I’d be the widow, Mrs. Campbell.
    But I know now that the vial’s contents are gone,
replaced with rosewater. I know that when he wakes, choking on the contents,
eyes bulging and nails scratching at the sheets and my gown, he’ll be faking, waiting
to see what I’ll do. And when I think it’s finally over and go to the basin to
wash up, he’ll come up behind me.
    I wipe a tear from my eye. Where did it come from? I
didn’t cry then, so why am I crying now? This isn’t real. Maxwell already
killed me and sent me to Hell.
    Anger flows through my body. So what if he killed me
because I’d planned on murdering him first? I’ve suffered hundreds of years for
it. I’ve paid my dues.
    Instead of going for the harmless vial, this time I snatch
a letter opener from the rolltop desk and stalk toward Maxwell. I plunge it
toward his heart with a cry of anger, but his hand catches my wrist halfway to
his chest. He squeezes and twists, forcing me to drop the weapon on the bed,
then with a roar throws me onto the floor at his feet where I lay stunned. I no
longer have my Demon super-strength. I’m a helpless little girl and I hate it.
I hate him. I hate that the bastard never served a day for his crime.
     I struggle to my feet, but his palm catches the
side of my face and I go down again, smarting.
    “You’ve gone too far,” he says above me, his face
glowing scarlet in the flickering light. He kicks out and catches me in the
stomach. I grasp my middle with one hand and half drag, half crawl my way away
from him. He steps easily behind me, hovering over me like a storm cloud ready
to release its lightning.
    I scramble at the foot of the bed, dragging myself
upright again. He waits behind me, breath on my neck, then spins me around so
that his face is in mine, hot breath making me gag. “You are a pathetic excuse
for a woman. You run around like a whore. Now I see why your parents were so
desperate to get rid of you.”
    “You’re a disgusting old man who couldn’t attract a
bee to sting you without giving it your money.”
    “You’re a lovely vase, Keira. Pretty to look at with
nothing inside.” He spits in my face and I long to wipe away his words and
saliva, but he’s holding me too tight, shaking me. “I’m going to have to
replace you.”
    I scream and kick as he forces me backward until I
knock into the table, rocking the washbasin and splashing water over the sides.
It’s happening again, just like before. I no longer have control over my own
body. I feel myself writhe like an animal—just as I did back then—snarling
and trying to bite at his face. But he pinches my cheeks between his fingers,
pushing right into the bone and forcing my head away from him.
    “I should’ve bought you from your parents instead of
marrying you,” he says in his rage. “I could’ve chained you to the bed and cut
out your evil tongue.”
    “I’m not for sale! I never was!” I scream, my body
still struggling, trying desperately to hurt him in some way. Any way. “My
mother is a free woman.”
    “Free to prey on men, just like you? Look at yourself,
Keira. Look .” He whips me around and forces my head up so I’m staring in
the mirror,