Chapter 92

Logan prowls towards me in long, slow steps the next day in the kitchen until he is standing just a breath away. It is all I can do not to turn around and face him. He’d see my fear, and he’d like that too much. 
I keep washing the dishes. Something must have happened at his work because he got here angrier than he usually does. “Aren’t you going to turn around and say hello to me, Allie?” he whispers, leaning forward, his lips brushing against my ear and making me want to vomit just remembering yesterday... “I bet you weren’t this frigid when you were giving that pussy to that rich man.” Logan grunts before smacking my ass. 
I shift abruptly, facing him and letting my wet hands drip water on the floor. “Don’t talk to me like that, Logan.”
“Calm down, Allie,” he smirks, stepping back. “I’m messing with you.”
I turn back and continue washing the dishes. “Dinner’s almost ready,” I say, trying to change the subject.
Logan strides to the stove, lifting the lid off one of the pans. “It smells good,” he remarks, but when I don’t respond, he slams the lid back down with a sharp, echoing clang.
I wince, and before I know it, his body is standing behind me again. His hands roam my body. 
“Logan, Az can come in here at any moment. Stop!” I say. “Please.” He doesn’t listen to me, though; he starts unbuttoning my long denim skirt. “Logan!” I yell-whisper at him.
“You have to do your job as my wife, Allie. I can’t stand being humiliated in my own home anymore. You have to satisfy me,” he whispers in my ear, and I pull away, leaning my head on my shoulder to keep his face from touching my neck.
“Logan, please, stop. Maybe we can try it later—”
*Smack.*
I should have been prepared, but his slap still takes me off guard. 
His slap on the right side of my head was so hard that I hit the left side of my head on the cabinet next to me. I blink hard, the searing pain on both sides of my head radiating through me. 
“You must have lost your mind if you think you can tell me no and expect there wouldn’t be consequences!” Logan says as he takes me by the neck and slams me into the kitchen cabinets behind me so hard my head snaps back. Immediately, I feel a hot, tender spot on the back of my skull. 
I hold in my tears. I can’t fight back. 
It always gets worse. 
My defiance only makes him more furious. 
He looms over me, his face twisted with anger and frustration, his chest heaving with each ragged breath. “Who the fuck you think you are?” he shouts. “Who?”
Without waiting for an answer, his free hand turns into a tight fist, and he hits me again, this time in the ribs. 
My vision swims as I struggle to stay on my feet, my legs wobbling beneath me. Yet, I see the regret in Logan’s eyes a second later, as soon as he sees my mouth twisting into a silent scream of pain from the blow to my ribs. 
Logan lets me go, like I’ve done something wrong, not him. “Fuck, Allie! You shouldn’t bait me the way you do.” 
I collapse to the floor near the place where Az’d been reading early while I’ve made dinner.
Logan’s always like that. 
Hit and regret. 
Then he will say sorry and he will promise to never do it again. 
Maybe he is right. Maybe it’s my fault. It’s hard to say. 
But before Logan can say how sorry he is, I hear Az say as he walks into the kitchen. “Hey, Dad, I’m so happy you’re home early today! Can we watch a movie after dinner? Please?”
I glance over at my son and notice that his face is focused on the book in his hand. Before he looks down at me on the kitchen floor, I turn back, pretending I’m opening the cabinet next to me to get something.
“Mom? Dad?” I hear Az call us. “Are you... arguing?” 
“No, buddy. Of course not,” I say casually as I grab a plastic container I don’t need from the cabinet before standing up. I try my best not to wince in pain.
I hear Logan open the cabinets next to me, glancing at my way and daring me to say something. “For God’s sake! There’s not a single snack left in this damn house. Azrael, you need to stop eating so much—look at yourself! At this rate, I’ll have to pick up another job just to keep up with how much you’re costing me!” He slams the cabinet door shut.
I gape at him. “Logan!”
“What?” he answers with a shrug. “I’m telling the truth. He is already old enough to understand how things work.” 
My eyes drift to Az, who is clutching his book to his chest. “Hey buddy, why don’t you take a shower before dinner?” I suggest, standing up. “So we can watch a movie later. How about that?” 
He gives me a relieved smile. “Okay, Mom... Dad?” 
“Sure, son,” Logan says without looking at him with an empty glass in his hand as he strides out of the kitchen. I silently let out an exhale. 
“Are you okay, Mom?” 
“Yes!” I answer too fast. I open another cabinet, pull out three plates, and set them down on the table, arranging one at each spot. “Go, buddy. Dinner’s almost ready!” I smile at him as I turn to grab the cutlery.
Even though the kitchen is filled with the delicious aroma of the food I just cooked, I don’t feel hungry at all. Not that I’ve eaten something before, and I’m most certain that I can’t eat something now. Not with my stomach roiling and acids burning my throat.
I grab a cloth and start wiping down the floor where my wet hands left marks earlier when I fell.
As soon as Az leaves the kitchen, I take a deep breath, feeling not only in pain but also exhausted. I feel like my life is just full of pain, and I’m not saying just from my throbbing head from where Logan threw me against the kitchen cabinets or my ribs.
Minutes later, Logan walks into the kitchen again. This time, he’s drinking straight from the bottle of whiskey in one hand, completely ignoring the glass in the other hand.
“Logan, you shouldn’t drink. It’s not good for you,” I say as I swerve away from him.
I glance at the bottle of whiskey and notice that it’s much lower than it was earlier. Did he drink all of that already?
“I’ll do whatever the hell I want with my life. You don’t control me. If anything, it’s the other way around. I control you!” he sneers, looking in my direction.
I walk faster to go to the stove so I can put the food on the plates, but before I reach there, he kicks me in the back. I stumble forward, but I ignore it and continue walking as if nothing had happened. I don’t answer him either, I don’t want to incite him even more.
“You bitch. Stop ignoring me! Do you think you’re better than me? You think you are too good for me?” he snarls next to me and places the bottle on the counter next to the stove with a loud thud. “Tell me, Allie. Is that man coming to my house without you telling me?”
That man—*Ethan*.
“What? No! Of course not!”
“You must be taking me as an idiot. Just like that bitch! Opening your legs for him when I’m not here.”
I whirl around at that, letting go of the panhandle and leaving it on the stove. “I would never do that to you, Logan. And you know it.”
“Then, if that’s the case, let’s move. Let’s go to another house, one where he’ll never find you again. Or have you found a way to communicate with him without your phone?”
“Logan, my phone stopped working weeks ago. What money do I have to buy another one? It doesn’t even make sense!” I say as I make my way to the napkins.
Logan grabs me by the neck, though. “Did you cheat on me too, Allie?”
“Of course not! I would never! I’m loyal to you!” I struggle to speak as his grip on my neck starts to tighten. “Please, Logan. Let me go.”
“Is it too much to ask that I get some respect in my own house?” Logan snarls in my face.
I desperately try to pull his hands off my neck.
Stupid mistake. 
I should have acted calmly and not provoked him further. Now, he’s just going to prove to me how much worse he can be.
Logan is not Ethan’s size, but he is strong. Far stronger than me. “You’re hurting me. Please let me go!” 
Another wrong move.
I can’t tell him that he’s hurting me because he thinks I’m playing the victim, making him look like a villain.
“Oh, please, you enjoy this attention I give you.”
“No!” I say, shaking my head the best I can.
The smell of alcohol on his breath hits my nose. “Like it’s true, Allie. You deserve to get your ass beat. If you don’t like it, why do you let yourself get hit then?” 
I don’t know why I’m arguing this point. I should have already stopped. 
“Logan, p-please.” After a few seconds, his grip loosens just a little, only to prove how much he controls what happens to me. But he doesn’t let go of me. He keeps staring into my eyes. “Let’s eat. The dinner will get cold,” I say weakly, stroking his wrists. “I cooked your favorite!” I try to smile. Then I add for good measure, “I’m sorry for everything.”
“My dear Alicent, always loyal to me, right? Always trying to see the best in everything.” His voice holds a note of false sympathy. “Sometimes I look at you, and all I see is the broken person you are. A nobody. Someone to take advantage of. But you can’t complain. You only have anything because of me. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even have Az, right? And you know what’s funny? The whole time I was with Chelsea, all I thought about was getting you back. But first, making you suffer by abandoning me. That’s why I wanted to marry that cheating bitch! I love you, Allie. You need to start showing me your appreciation.”
“You call this love?” As soon as I say the words, I wish them back. 
*Idiot, Allie!*
But I can’t understand him. How he can be so cold and cruel yet say he loves me without blinking. 
I want to run far, far away, but I’m stuck. 
I’ve thought of running so many times. Only I don’t have the means to do that. I know it would take a lot of money for me and for Az. 
A new identity. 
Maybe even a new country, because I’m sure those monsters would search for me. They’d come for me, and they wouldn’t stop. I’d never be free. 
One of his hands releases my neck and trails down my left arm in what almost feels like a caress. But when Logan reaches my elbow, his grip tightens abruptly, crushing it so hard that pain shoots through the bone. I’m certain it’ll leave a bruise. As I wince, he jerks me closer, twisting my arm at an unnatural angle, nearly pulling my shoulder out of its socket.
I let out a startled cry of pain as my arm protested the sharp movement. Logan’d once dislocated my shoulder. And he’d set it again as he asked me to forgive him for doing it. I silently pray that a bruise is all I get from this this time. 
When Logan’s hand pulls back, I immediately brace with my other arm. But not before he slams into my face, and pain blossoms tears to fill my eyes.
“You know I don’t like hitting you in the face.” Just because he doesn’t want to risk anyone finding out what he does to me. “But you don’t even leave the house anymore,” Logan says, seeming to complement my thought.
This is new. 
I desperately try to get away from him. 
He applies more pressure on his hand around my throat, and I tense. I bring my free hand up to try to pull his hand away. 
“Logan, please, please let me go! This isn’t you!”
“I hate this look on your eyes, Alicent. You’re so ungrateful!”
Logan slams the side of my head into the kitchen cabinet again. What was already hurt becomes even more painful. 
He’s never been this aggressive before. Usually, he only hits me once and stops, but this time, he’s going too far!
“Logan, please stop!”
I claw at him, frantic. But he is so much strong and crazy when he gets drunk! I run my fingernails along his skin, digging deeply. And he finally reduces the pressure of his fingers, letting me take a deep breath. 
I choke and gag.
The relief doesn’t last long. 
Logan lands another blow, this time a punch to the ribs. I lean over, trying to catch my breath. I try to pull out of his hold on my neck, but he holds on firmly. “You bitch, you made me bleed.” 
He shakes my injured arm, and I cry out in pain. Agony races up my left arm as he twists, pulling it up my back. The blinding pain engulfs me, and before I can hear the sickening pop of my shoulder, he lets me go. I immediately fall to the hardwood kitchen floor, but Logan doesn’t stop. I barely notice him taking another big gulp of whiskey before he steps abruptly on my left knee. I cry out in pain. 
“Logan, please stop!” My arm hangs at my side, and I reach for my knee but pull up short before I touch it, not wanting to make the pain worse. 
“Next time, watch your words. And your attitude.”
Tears stream down my face. The pain is so bad I can barely breathe. 
I’ve thought he is done with me and now he'd be bending down to help me up but then, his punch in my eye catches me by surprise. My face turns to the left side with the strong impact he’s just made on the right side. 
I try to breathe. 
He’s going to kill me.
I need to run. To get out of there, but as I try to weakly stand up, his foot presses into my stomach, and I go down, my head slamming down the floor once more. And when I open my eyes a few seconds later, that is when I see the flash of a knife in his hand. 
He’s going to kill me.
His knee lands on my stomach as he crouches down to talk to me. “You will show me how much you appreciate me. How much you love me.” The look in his eyes is crazed, and my heart beats a little faster. 
However, it’s nothing compared to the pounding in my chest when he turns around. Then Logan shoves my legs up to my chest, making my long denim skirt gather at my hips before positioning himself between my legs so close to me that I feel his hard dick against my entrance. 
“No.” It hurts, but I shake my head, my consciousness almost slipping away with so much pain. “Please don’t, Logan. This isn’t you. Please don’t do this.” 
“This isn’t the way you show me your love, Allie. Now shut the fuck up and take it.” 
He unbuttons his pants, and when he’s about to push my panties aside and shove his way into me, something breaks deep in my chest.
Something inside of me unlocks, as though brutal pain was a key to letting out something that was resting deep inside me. I let it flow over my heart. 
My eyes. 
My mouth. 
I let it form a ball of black light in the palm of my good hand as I stare at Logan’s eyes. Vaguely, I feel like time seems to freeze for a moment. The buzz of my pain clangs around my brain, but my focus is on the man in front of me, whom I once called my husband.
“No!” I feel free as I hurl the ball of black light straight at his chest. The force sends him flying backward, slamming into the kitchen cabinet—right where he had shoved me earlier—before he crumples to the floor.
I feel free.
*I feel free.*