I Was Never Yours - Episode 3
04-09-25 (20:56)
I woke up with a start, my breathing considerably
heavy and my eyes puffy. Had I cried myself to sleep
again? Apparently I had. Mostly I tried not to sleep at
all; the less I slept the fewer nightmares I had. It
would be the same thing time and time again. Walls
closing in on me, a window on the other side of which
Noah stood, smiling at me. I tried to break the barrier
between us but time would always run out, the walls
would always close in on me and I'd wake up
screaming for release.
I wondered if Zach heard the screaming, if it had any
effect on him. Since the day the doctor came to see
me Zach and I had not met. I was glad for once that in
the huge house, two people could live together
without having to see each other. He lived on the first
floor and my room was on the upper one. It was
convenient for both of us since Zach could come and
go as he pleased and I could enjoy the solitude. The
only people I ever met were members of the staff,
women who'd come to clean and the butler who'd
come to serve me food. I hated being waited upon but
something in me never allowed me to leave the
confines of my room. The house wasn't mine, I didn't
belong here. I had no right to walk around the place
like I owned it.
I pulled the robe around myself, seeing as how I was
shivering in my silk nightgown. My things had been
sent from the house and I'd had quite the breakdown
the day they arrived. My clothes, shoes, books, old
photographs, all of it came to me perfectly packed in
boxes. I laughed bitterly to myself as I remembered
the fact that they hadn't sent a single thing which
could possibly relate to Noah. The gifts he'd given me,
a framed photograph, the occasional teddy bear, some
jewellery, none of it was there. My mother must've
thought that it was for the better, to not have any
reminders of the past in my new life. If only she knew
that my new life was more like purgatory, maybe then
she'd have taken pity on me and sent me the things
which reminded me of the one good memory that I
could associate with my old life.
I walked up to the balcony that was attached to my
room and took in the fresh morning air. It was around
six in the morning and the time by which I was usually
awake. Mist drowned everything in it and made my
surroundings look cold and dreary, almost lifeless.
Every day I woke up to hope that something would
change about the place, that something miraculous
would happen and I'd finally learn to accept the place
as my new home, but it didn't. The Price mansion
stood looking as formidable and grim as ever and as
something that I'd never accept and nor would it
accept me. It was loyal to its owner after all.
The sound of tyres screeching made me jolt and I
looked down to see Zach's Ferrari racing inside the
gates. Wait, had he been out all night? I gazed at the
red vehicle, waiting for its owner to emerge, so
imagine my surprise when the first person to come out
of the car was wearing high heels.
My heart stopped. My first thought? Maybe Olivia had
come back, maybe he'd found her. Maybe just maybe
my life could be saved. The person who came out
however was blonde and wearing clothes that even
my sister would shy away from. Zach came out and
walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her
waist and kissing her neck. There was a slight
clumsiness to his walk, a tell-tale sign of him being
drunk. I gulped as the two continued to have an
intense make-out session in the foyer. I waited for the
pain to come but it didn't, I felt nothing. He could do
whatever he wanted, I didn't care. I tore my eyes
away from the two and headed to the bathroom to
take a shower.
Two hours later as I was randomly changing the
channels on TV, I heard the sound of something
shattering from outside. The help wouldn't come till
about nine so there was only one person or rather two
that could be here and I started panicking, realizing
that I didn't want to see either.
The sounds continued to come, loud sounds of things
being thrown on the ground, of objects being violently
broken and that's when I realized that it was enough.
With a determined look on my face I left the safety of
my room, only to find the living room in complete and
utter apocalyptic condition. Everything had been turned
inside out and everything which could potentially be
destroyed had been reduced to pieces. Lamps were
broken, vases shattered, paintings strewn across the
floor and cushions ripped open. In the middle of it all
stood Zach, looking absolutely murderous and when
his eyes found me, his rage if it was possible increased
tenfold.
To be completely honest, I was terrified. He looked so
angry, so furious that it automatically sent a chill down
my spine. I began to walk away from him, retreating
carefully so as to not attract attention but I wasn't
careful enough. Zach caught up to me before I could
make it back to my room, grabbing my arm and
pushing me against the wall. I felt sickened as I
smelled the alcohol in his breath, his grey eyes boring
into mine. I cowered against his touch, his grip on my
arm never losing its firmness.
"Zach," I whispered, hoping he'd catch the pleading in
my voice.
"Shut up! Shut the hell up," he all but yelled at me and
I instinctively closed my eyes, terrified of what was
going to come now. Would he hit me? Did he hate me
so much?
"You ruined everything," he growled, running his free
hand through his hair.
I looked at him questioningly, tears stinging my eyes
as I fought to hold it all together. I'd been dreading this
moment, waiting for him to break and blame me for
ruining his life. I wanted to tell him that this was as
hard for me as it was for him but I doubt he cared. The
alcohol in his system had taken away his rationality
and there was nothing I could do to make him see
sense.
"I couldn't be with that girl I brought home! I couldn't
touch her without the guilt eating at me. You did this
to me," he spat and I was left speechless.
He pushed himself off of me and struggled to walk
straight; he was about to fall when I quickly ran and
caught him, his weight crushing me. He muttered a
few more incoherent things, things I knew were
directed to hurt me. I tried my best to support his
weight and struggled greatly to get him to my room,
which was closest to where' we were. I managed to
get him on the bed, laying him down more roughly
than I intended. I took off his shoes and placed a
blanket on him.
I stared at the sleeping form of my husband and hard
as I tried I couldn't find it in myself to be angry at him.
He wasn't at fault; what he'd been subjected to was
not what he'd earned. He hated me, I knew that and I
was far from loving him but there was something I
needed to do, something which would heal his heart. Don't forget to leave a Comment 
