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1.21% Darkness / Chapter 1: Chapter 1
Darkness Darkness original

Darkness

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Capítulo 1: Chapter 1

VOLUME ONE: GUILT

Prologue

Have you ever had a moment of complete irony? I once looked up what the definition was. According to Siri irony was, and I quote,

"a state of affairs or an event that seems deliberately contrary to what one expects and is often amusing as a result".

Irony is amusing? I don't think so. Irony can be cruel and hurtful and completely damaging. For me anyways. You see six months ago I would have thought Irony was just a word in the English Dictionary that everyone knew, but couldn't exactly put words to explain. Now I know what Irony truly means, I'm living it.

Laynie

Pain slices through the back of my head at an alarming rate. I can hear a voice in the background, but am unsure of what it is saying. My back lands hard on the kitchen floor. God, I hate our hardwood flooring. Of course, Jared had to have the most expensive hardwood floor that cost sixteen hundred dollars a square foot. I'm not sure why, but when we moved in, he was very specific about what amenities he wanted.

Jared picks my body up not giving me time to brace myself for his fist flying to my nose, the one body part he once told me he loved the most. I scream in agony as he grabs my blouse with his fists and brings my face closer to his. I used to love looking at his beautiful blue eyes. They were so expressive, I could always tell what he was thinking.

"What did I tell you about talking back to me Laynie?" He screams. I didn't even realize that I had spoken back to him.

I try not to say a word. I just do what I always do. I Cry. Weak. I hate being weak.

"Jared, I'm sorry. Please stop!" I cry out, my hands trying to block his.

The pain of his fist flying at my face over and over is unbearable. He stops, grips my hair tight in his grasp and looks at me, I beg for the man that I have known since I was fourteen, to come and rescue me from this monster that has taken over. As usual all I receive is another fist that connects me with the darkness I have come to crave.

Jared

I leave her on the kitchen floor. The darkness has corrupted me once again. Call me a monster, call me a demon, or a woman abuser. I don't and can't control it. The anger I have deep inside chooses when to come out. I can usually suppress it at work, but today was a particularly bad day. My career as a contractor who owns his own business allows me to control it with a secluded environment, but when I'm home the anger takes over. Unfortunately, it happens around my wife. My wife. The woman I used to care for most in the world. The woman that despite being in the damn hospital with a fucking cop hanging over me, will never betray me. Which in turns makes me pissed. She can't read me? Good. Neither can I.

I have always had this darkness in me. Never knew when it started. I was never one of those kids that skinned the neighbor's cats. Never the teenager that grabbed girls inappropriately. Nothing like that. I was just always fucking angry. As I walk into our bedroom, I notice the laundry is not done. It's just sitting there. Not a usual occurrence in this house. Laynie always has the house immaculate when I come home. She never has the laundry out, kitchen messy, nothing. I trip over the occasional shoe, but other than that she is a bit of neat freak.

I glance at the alarm clock on our Bernhardt nightstand. 1:46 pm. Wait, what? I run back out to the kitchen and look at the clock on the wall. 1:47 pm. One whole minute has passed with the realization of me being home 3 hours early. Shit, that's right. I left right after I fired those assholes. I glance at Laynie in the corner of my eye still lying almost lifelessly on the ground. My guilt and shame or maybe embarrassment has me leaning down to her and lifting her face off the ground and onto my lap. I want to ask myself why I have hurt this woman. The same woman that was never hesitant to marry me, even though I took away her dream wedding. She loved me that much. She knew I was in a hurry to get to New York. How many times have I told her she wasn't good enough? How many times have I shown her? How many times has she believed me?I want to blame the darkness that has consumed me but the truth is, I am a coward. I slowly lift her into my arms, my Armani suit being tainted by her blood that has somewhat dried on her lips crusting the edges.

I carry her to our bedroom and lie her in the bed on her back. I would clean her face a bit so it doesn't stick to our Egyptian linens because I know she will turn sometime in her sleep. I should cover her in our blankets, because I know she will get cold in the middle of the night. I should pull her hair up in that weird fucking bun thing she always puts on the top of her head right before she goes to bed. I should, but I don't. I just stare at the woman I have destroyed. I go back to the living room where my bar awaits me in the corner, where my scotch beckons me, and burry my day in that. Because I'm a monster, even if I don't want to be.

Laynie

I awake in a cold sweat. My eyes drift to the left where I'm expecting to find Jared, only I see emptiness. I feel around his side of the bed and my fingers grasps coldness. He hasn't been to bed yet. I look at the clock wondering where my husband could be. I see it's only 8:39 pm. Strange, I never go to bed at this time. Immediately I am reminded of what transpired today. I feel my face, already pinpointing where it is starting to swell. Jared came home early. Way earlier than usual. Jared is usually home by p.m. I have a certain schedule for my days. Between breakfast, the gym, then cleaning when I get home, I barely have time to make him dinner every night. So, when he came home earlier than usual, I had just finished my workout and was working on cleaning.

He came home in a terrible mood. It has been a while since I have seen him that angry. I have no idea why he came home so early. We have had this same schedule for the past year, ever since we moved here. I get up in search for my husband because I'm not sure if he wants his dinner, late or not. Once I'm out of bed, my back screams at me in pain. I look towards our bathroom that is connected to the bedroom, and hesitate. I usually do not want to look at the damage that reflects in the mirror but I don't have a choice tonight. The attorney that is in charge of my mother's estate is coming bright and early tomorrow morning to talk to me about the will and I have put it off long enough.

I slowly go over to the bathroom and grab hold of the doorframe. My face is throbbing in pain and I'm not sure if I want to look and determine if I can cover it in make up or if I just want to call her and reschedule. My mind decides on the latter as I move to the living room. I look around for my husband and my phone, when I discover both at the same time. Jared is sitting behind the couch slouched awkwardly on his rear, leaning to the right a little, so it looks like he is in the middle of falling. In right hand he is juggling my phone and in his left hand is a tumbler of what I'm assuming is his scotch. Jared was never a drinker until we got to New York. Just another thing to change since we have been here.

His face looks like he is trying very hard not to fall over from laughing. What he's laughing at looking at my phone, I'm not sure, but it does worry me. I talk to my best friend Annabelle via text message about Jared and my relationship often. I don't tell her anything too detailed but she knows I am unhappy. Thankfully, she lives all the way in Minneapolis. When Jared and I moved last year to this New York house, I hated leaving her, but I thought I was following my dream. How wrong was I?

I lean down on my right knee, then my left, until my legs are flat on the floor in front of him, and lean forward, almost until we are touching. I can smell the scotch rolling off of him in waves. Seems like he decided to snoop while drunk because he is looking through my text messages from Anna and instead of making my face hurt further, he is having an all-out laugh fest. I'm not sure if that's better or not. I quietly whisper his name almost hoping he can't hear me. He looks up slowly and produces a serial smile.

"There she is." he says quietly.

"Jared are you alright? Would you like me to make you something to eat or maybe help you to bed?" Please say yes.

He closes his eyes and smiles even wider, showing teeth, then suddenly grabs my throat throwing me down on the ground, I can hear the sound of his glass breaking, followed by my phone landing on the ground somewhere near us. He is on top of me with his hands around my neck, but he is not squeezing. He is just holding me in place. He may not be hurting me but I am far from comfortable with his hands around my neck. I no longer know this man in front of me.

He slowly moves his mouth toward my right ear, and says something that stills my shaking form.

"Would you do it? Would you leave me?" he whispers.

My eyes slowly connect with his blue ones, and in that moment, I swear I see guilt, shame and maybe a little bit of fear. Those beautiful blue eyes I used to trust with my life. I get ready to give my answer when he lifts himself up and then reaches down to pick me up. I let him, trying to remember the last time I was in his arms without pain, He cusps my face with both hands and inspects what I assume, is his damage from a few hours before. He leans down and kisses my left cheek then my right. He reaches my ear again and says something about a monster, then turns around and heads to our bedroom.

I stand there stunned for I don't know how long. I am petrified to head into the bedroom after him. I clean the scotch, clear the glass, and head to the kitchen to clean there. I give myself another hour before heading to the bedroom to join the man I no longer know.


Capítulo 2: Chapter 2

Laynie

You know when your asleep but not really? I once took a psychology class in college. I learned a couple of important facts in that class. One, I am not meant to be a psychologist, at all. Second, slow wave sleep is stage three and four of the five stages of sleep. It is in this stage that you find yourself asleep, but when and if your jolted awake by something, you are unsure of your surroundings. You are not sure where you are for a moment, you have no idea how long you were out, and it takes you a second to remember what woke you up. I was definitely in the slow wave stage.

A hand suddenly grabs my mouth as I shoot out of bed. Still not having any idea what woke me up I struggle with the hand tightening on my mouth. Thrashing in bed I managed to look to my left and notice Jared is being detained by two men. What the hell is going on? He looks a little sluggish trying to fight these men off and it dawns on me that he is still drunk. Looking back at the man responsible for my inability to speak, I try and get a good look at him. He is very young looking. Younger than my 27 years. He has sluggish brown hair that looks like he has brushed through it with his fingers. He has big brown eyes, and is long and lean. He lifts me up on my feet by my arm, and drags me to the living room. I am followed by Jared being pulled by the two men who look equally as young as the other guy.

I am thrown on the sofa forcefully, while the man holding me walks over to my husband, who is now being held up by the two men. I've seen enough action movies to know that stance they have put him in. One man was on his left, the other on his right, both holding his arms up. This main guy was going to hurt him while the other two hold him in place. The man that was holding me, slowly walks over to them and lifts Jared's face up by his hair. These men aren't wearing masks. They have nothing hiding their distinctive features from us. That scares me more than the grasp he had on my mouth just moments ago.

"Remember me chump?" The man says.

"Remember what you put me through? What you put us all through?" He sneers.

Jared looks up, and narrowed his eyes on the man that was speaking. He seems to be the one in charge. Jared spits towards the man and then tries kicking and pulling at the two holding him. It is no use. He is still too weak from his drunken slumber. He grunts at his failed attempt. I keep my hands in fists, scared that if I opened them up, I would try something stupid. They were clearly here for Jared. This is personal.

"Think you can just do whatever you want to whoever you want, just because your pissed, you piece of shit?" The main guy howls.

With that, he lifts his fist and slams it into Jared's face. I scream watching blood spat all over our walls. What the hell is going on? If they wanted money or jewels, surely they would have just asked where they were with a gun to our heads, while they wore ski masks. Okay, maybe I do watch too many action movies. When my screams reach their ears, the main guy turns to me and stalks over to where I'm still sitting on the sofa. He sees a lamp on the end table and turns it on. With the bright light illuminating the room I can see their faces better. I can also see Jared's bloody face already starting to swell.

The main guy crouches down in front of me, a little smug smirk grows on his thin lips. He looks to the guys holding Jared, back to me, then to my wedding bands. I never go to sleep without them. Even when my marriage is practically over.

"So, you're the Mrs." He whispers.

It wasn't a question.

"Here I thought you were some whore this shmuck was fucking" His crass tongue has me holding mine. I do not want to be brass with this group. I have to figure a way out of this. What did I do with my phone? Main guy turns back to the two men but his words are still directed at me.

"Sorry Darlin' this ain't personal."

Before I can even finish a thought, his fist is connecting to my already bruised face. I fall right to the ground. My nose feels like it is instantly broken. I can hear Jared shouting but I can't understand what he is saying. My vision blurs and pain radiates through my head. Lifting my head off the ground, I listen as the main guy standing over me and says something that floors me.

"Looks like I'm not the only one to do that to you tonight darlin."

I cringe at his words. My cheeks heat at his accusation. No one has ever seen the marks of Jared's abuse. Adrenaline must have made me forget that my face probably already looks like a bruised grapefruit. I look at Jared with an almost pleading look. He has a coldness in his eyes that I can't decipher. I briefly wonder if he is enraged by someone else battering his punching bag.

I look at the man in charge and see his smirk turn towards my husband.

"See that old man? See what I can do to someone you love?" You fucked with my life…. I fuck with yours."

With that, his goons slam him onto the ground and start beating him. It feels like it goes on for days with me pleading and begging for them to stop. All I see is my husband being pummeled, fist landing on his face and torso, blood spatting everywhere from his nose. It feels like it lasts forever. When they eventually tire using their fists, they start using their feet. Steel toe boots hitting flesh is a sound I will forever hear in my nightmares. Blood is dripping down from every inch of my husband's face and it's then I realize he has stopped covering his body for protection. He must have passed out. What if this is the last time I see my husband alive? What if this is the last time I will be alive? They will never let me go knowing I can pick them out of a line up.

My screams echo off the walls making me regret that Jared bought the house on top of an acre. We are in upstate New York, where it's more land than neighbors. Jared wanted privacy. Little did I know he just didn't want my screams to be heard for a different reason. When the two finally let up I stop screaming and lie there, still on my stomach with my hands holding me half up. The man in charge smiles like the Cheshire Cat and starts laughing.

"Damn boys, you were great!" he chuckles to himself.

His smile vanishes when he turns around locks eyes with me. Giving me a stern look he turns back to the two men.

"Let's finish this. I got shit to do"

Guy on the right slams his steel toe right on top of Jared's head. I'm almost certain Jared will never get up again. My throat aches with the scream I just let out. The man in charge looks back at me with an almost solemn look.

"Sorry about the visual darlin" he says with a grimace.

I'm getting really sick of him calling me that.

"But the man needed to pay." He continues. "Now we just got to make sure you won't say nothing."

With that his fist connects with my head. I pray for something to take me out of my misery. Between the earlier onslaught with Jared and now with this criminal, I don't know how much more pain I can take. Even with Jared using me as a punching bag for the last 12 months, this man's fist is much more painful. I glance at the window feeling the darkness that I crave bordering on the edges of my vision, and notice a smear of light coming from the sky. It's morning. I briefly wonder what time it is when there is a loud ruckus at the front door. The men scatter and are yelling at one another. I hear the door being slammed open by something powerful and even more shouting. I briefly see high heels running in with lots of black boots around. When the high heels stop at me and crouch down my vision blurs and I feel myself blacking out soon. The last words I can get out are "Save Jared" but I'm not sure if they were ever heard by anyone other than in my own head. The familiar darkness finds me.


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