Trapped In His Cruel Six Year Contract

Essie trudged through the freezing wind for three long blocks. By the time she reached her building, her lips were a pale, sickly blue, and she couldn't feel her fingers.

She shoved her key into the rusted lock with shaking hands and pushed the flimsy wooden door open.

The living room was pitch black. The only light came from the sickly yellow streetlamp shining through the dirty window.

Assuming Charles was asleep, Essie closed the door as quietly as possible. She ran her numb hand along the wall and flicked the light switch.

Click. The faulty overhead bulb flickered violently before finally buzzing to life.

Essie gasped, her heart leaping into her throat.

Charles was sitting dead center in the living room in his wheelchair. He was holding a plastic ice pack against his bruised, swollen cheek. He looked like a statue carved out of pure hatred.

The sudden cold and the shock made Essie instinctively reach up. She pulled the collar of her turtleneck higher and quickly hooked a blue surgical mask over her ears.

Charles stared at her with dead, cold eyes. "Why are you so late?" his voice was a low, scratchy rasp.

Essie kept her eyes glued to the floor. "There was an emergency surgery. They needed extra hands," she lied, her voice trembling.

Charles let out a harsh, mocking laugh. He grabbed the wheels of his chair and pushed himself forward. The rubber tires ground heavily against the cheap wood floor.

He stopped right in front of her. His sharp eyes locked onto the blue mask covering half her face.

"Wearing a mask inside your own home?" Charles sneered. "What, does the stench of poverty in here bother you now?"

Essie shook her head frantically. "No, I just... I think I caught a cold. I don't want to get you sick."

Charles's eyes darkened into something terrifying. Before Essie could react, his hand shot out like a viper.

He grabbed the fabric of the mask and yanked it down with brutal force.

The elastic strings dug into Essie's ears before snapping with a loud pop. The mask fluttered to the floor.

Under the harsh, unforgiving glare of the overhead light, Essie's face was fully exposed. Her lips were swollen and split. And right above the collar of her sweater, the dark, angry purple hickey Kieran had sucked into her skin was impossible to miss.

Charles's pupils shrank to pinpricks. The muscles in his face contorted in a mix of absolute shock and explosive rage.

He hurled the ice pack at the floor. The plastic burst open, sending ice cubes and freezing water exploding across the room.

Charles pointed a shaking finger right at her face. He opened his mouth and unleashed a torrent of pure venom.

"You disgusting whore!" he screamed, his voice cracking. "You actually went out and sold yourself to those sick, rich old men!"

He gripped the armrests, his knuckles turning white. "I would rather be a cripple for the rest of my miserable life! I would rather blow my brains out right now than spend one single cent of the dirty money you make spreading your legs!"

Every word was a serrated blade slicing directly into Essie's heart. Everything she had sacrificed, every piece of her soul she had sold to keep him alive, was being spat on.

Tears flooded her face. "Shut up! Just shut up!" she screamed back, her voice breaking into a sob.

Charles didn't stop. "You make me sick! Just looking at you makes me feel filthy!"

The last thread of Essie's sanity snapped.

She raised her right hand and swung it with every ounce of strength she had left in her exhausted body.

Smack.

The sharp, explosive sound of her palm hitting his face echoed off the cramped walls. Charles's head snapped to the side. A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

The world stopped spinning. The silence in the room was deafening.

Charles slowly turned his head back. He stared at her, his eyes wide with shock, slowly filling with a hatred deeper than anything she had ever seen.

Essie looked down at her stinging, trembling hand. She slapped both hands over her mouth, letting out a choked, devastated wail.

She couldn't look at him for another second. She spun around, stumbled down the short hallway, and threw herself into her tiny bedroom.

She slammed the door, locked the deadbolt, and slid down the cheap wood until she hit the floor, sobbing so hard she couldn't breathe.