Twelve Years Of Salvation, Six Months Of Betrayal Chapter 01

Twelve Years Of Salvation, Six Months Of Betrayal Chapter 01

Ever since I caught James Harrison cheating, the first thing he did when he came home every day was let me drag him to the door and douse him with disinfectant like I was trying to scrub the sin off him.

Feeling guilty, James would always endure it with red, watery eyes and a gentle expression, gently trying to calm me down, saying it hurt him to see me like this.

But tonight, he came home two full hours late.

The second I smelled the unfamiliar perfume on him, I snapped again, fumbling angrily at his belt.

“Last time you were half an hour late, you slept with a woman. Today you’re two hours late. What is that supposed to mean, four this time?”

He apologized again, like he had countless times before, and I pushed him away without hesitation.

Then he finally held up his hand, the IV bruise still dark against his skin, and screamed at me, completely broken.

“Enough! I’ve got a raging fever and can barely stand, and you haven’t even asked how I feel. You just keep losing your mind every single day. When does it end?”

“So I got drunk and slept with someone once. Like you’re any better?”

“No wonder someone dragged you into that alley when you were sixteen and tried to assault you. You know what, Emily? A paranoid lunatic like you? You deserved it.”

The spray bottle shattered at my feet. The sharp smell of alcohol hit me, and I couldn’t get a word out.

Watching the disgust in his eyes, I suddenly felt exhausted.

Fine. Whatever this was between us, it was over.

***

The entryway went dead silent.

The door wasn’t fully shut. The two friends who’d brought James home stood frozen behind him, exchanging awkward looks as they tried to smooth things over.

“Emily, James was really out of it with the fever. He didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“Besides, no one could take you spraying him with alcohol every single day. Maybe go a little easier on him?”

“Yeah, that whole drunk thing… he cut it off completely.”

The mention of it made my stomach churn with nausea.

When I was sixteen, my stepbrother and his friends dragged me into a dark alley.

Right when my clothes were being torn off, an eighteen-year-old James came at them with a brick, eyes blazing red, and chased them off.

He’d taken off his school jacket and wrapped it tightly around my shaking body.

He’d cried harder than I did, holding me and saying, “Don’t be scared, Emily. Anyone touches you again, I’ll kill them.”

Because of that nightmare, after we got married, I couldn’t stand being touched. Any intimacy made me shake uncontrollably.

Back then, James would just hold me again and again, pressing soft kisses to my forehead.

“Don’t be scared, Emily. It’s okay. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

I always believed he was the one who pulled me out of hell.

Until six months ago, when his stomach ulcers flared up and I went to his rescue station late at night to bring him medicine.

I walked in and saw him pinning the new wellness coach on staff to the couch, kissing her with a kind of desperation I’d never seen before.

His face pressed into her neck, breathing hard, with a kind of raw, desperate hunger he’d never once shown me.

Her black lace bra was draped over his uniform jacket, the one covered in his rescue team honors.

When I caught them, he dropped to his knees with red rimmed eyes, swearing he’d just been drunk and mistaken her for someone else.

Twelve years. I really thought he was the one who saved me from hell. But the man who saved me was the one who dragged me into a new kind of hell.

I came back to the present as James seemed to sober up a little. He stepped forward and tried to take my hand.

“Emily, I’m sorry. I was out of my mind. I really do have a fever; my head is killing me…”

His voice softened as he moved closer, his face full of regret.

I stepped back, avoiding his outstretched hand. “Go rest.”

James’s hand froze in the air. He frowned, looking uneasy, and tried again.

“Emily, let me explain…”

“I’m tired.”

I cut him off, turned, and walked into the guest room, locking the door behind me.

Through the door, I heard his friends helping him into the bedroom, murmuring that since I wasn’t reacting, it would probably blow over.

Was it really that simple?

I leaned against the door and slowly slid down to the floor.

Nothing was over. I just didn’t want to keep living this story anymore.