I find my wife tangled up in her bedsheets, trapped in the grips of a fitful sleep. She mutters something unintelligible as I cast the soft glow of the candle in my hand over her body. I didn't want to come back here tonight. Every night, I tell myself I won't. There has to be some resistance to this madness. But after Mercedes took it upon herself to inform me of the bruises, I had to see them for myself.
She curls into herself as I peel back the top half of the sheet, exposing her torso. A sharp intake of breath leaves my lips as I see the damage for myself. If anyone were to see her this way, they would undoubtedly think she had been beaten in places. And something is so horrific about those blemishes on the perfect canvas of her skin. It bothers me more than I had anticipated, and I can only wonder how I will feel once I see the permanent destruction I intend to inflict upon her.
I replace the sheet and turn away, chest heaving as my fist curls at my sides. Why did she have to do this? Why did she have to betray me and force my hand? And why does the prospect of what's to come bring me more torment than pleasure?
"Santiago?" Her sleepy voice whispers from behind me.
I close my eyes, tempted to leave without a word. But I can't seem to move. I can't look at her. And I can't be away from her. She truly is the slowest, deadliest form of poison.
The silence stretches between us, until finally, she asks the question on her mind.
"Have you come to take your fill of me again?"
"No," I bite out.
Against my better judgment, I turn to face her, placing the candle on her nightstand. She's peeking up at me with tired eyes, hair strewed across her pillow like strands of silk. I reach out and smooth them away from her face, my dark mood casting a shadow as I study her.
"It's a shame what you’ve done.”
"What do you mean?" she asks.
"Just remember when you look upon yourself next week, loathing your own reflection in the mirror, you only have yourself to blame."
She flinches, yanking away from my touch as she curls into herself protectively. "What are you talking about?"
"I told you there would be punishment for your sins," I answer. "And it will be equal to your crime."
She chokes back a quiet sob and shakes her head, reaching out for my hand again. "Please don't be cruel. You don't have to do this. It doesn't have to be this way."
"But it does." I pull my fingers from her grasp, feeling the loss of her warmth immediately. "You determined this course the day you decided to betray me."
I head for the door as she calls after me, desperation coloring her voice. "Please, just look at me. I know you want to. I know you are capable of listening, if you could just let go of this hatred for one minute—”
"Go to sleep," I command. "Your physical therapy begins tomorrow."
"Physical therapy?" she echoes in confusion.
I offer her one last fleeting glance.
"To ensure the safety of my child," I answer coldly.