Chapter 2 - The Unforgivable Strike
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The heavy oak door was still slightly ajar, the evening breeze barely sweeping into the grand foyer, when a sudden, blinding force struck the left side of my face. The impact was so violent, so completely unexpected, that my vision instantly fractured into tiny white sparks.
I was thrown sideways, my shoulder crashing hard into the decorative hallway wall. The framed wedding photograph that hung there rattled violently against the plaster. For a split second, my exhausted brain couldn't process what had just happened. The stinging heat on my cheek and the metallic taste flooding my mouth were entirely foreign sensations.
Then, I looked up.
Carter stood towering over me, his handsome face twisted into an ugly mask of pure, unadulterated rage. His chest heaved beneath his expensive, tailored dress shirt.
"Do you have any idea what time it is, you useless bitch?" he screamed, the sheer volume of his voice vibrating painfully against my eardrums.
I pressed a trembling hand to my mouth, pulling it back to see bright red blood smeared across my pale fingers. My lip was completely busted, split down the center by the heavy gold ring he always wore on his right hand.
"Carter..." I gasped, trying to find my footing on the slick hardwood, my other hand instinctively flying down to protect my swollen belly.
He didn't offer a hand to help me up. He didn't show a single ounce of remorse for striking his heavily pregnant wife. Instead, he pointed a sharp, accusing finger toward the back of the house.
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"Get in the kitchen and cook for my mother!" he barked, his eyes completely devoid of any humanity. "She has been waiting for over an hour because you couldn't be bothered to look at a clock."
I stood frozen against the wall, the stale smell of my twelve-hour shift suddenly overwhelmed by the sharp tang of my own blood and the paralyzing grip of absolute terror.
