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BENT OVER IN HER CHAIR, Juliette was buckling the strap of her sandal when she heard his footsteps in the front entry. She was a little surprised Victor would come right in without an invitation, but she straightened up to greet him anyway.
"Hello, Julie."
Mike. She stared open-mouthed at him. He looked terrible. His hair was rumpled and his shirt untucked, nothing like the pressed and put-together Mike she knew.
"What are you doing here?" Her voice shook slightly, but her words came out sharp.
"It's good to see you, too," he smirked. "You planning on going somewhere?" He leaned against the counter a few feet away from where she sat and thrust his chin toward her blue toenails. "Cold feet?" He snorted his derision. "And lipstick, too. My, my. Aren't you looking extra special tonight?" He crossed his arms and grimaced, almost as though in pain.
Juliette's heart was pounding against her ribs as she stood up. She didn't like the way he was looking at her, and fear was beginning to send cold tendrils up the ridges of her spine.
"You need to leave, Mike." She had to be brave. Surely Victor would be back for her any minute now.
"No, I need to stay, because we need to talk. You said so yourself."
"Not like this. You should go home." She reached for her purse on the counter, but he lunged for her, grabbing her wrist and jerking her around to face him. She cried out as pain shot up her arm and into her shoulder.
"There was a time when this practically was my home," he ground out through clenched teeth.
"You're hurting me." Her voice shook. "Let go of my arm!"
He immediately released her wrist, only to wrap his arms around her and drag her up against him, holding her too tightly, too close. "I don't want to hurt you, Julie. I never want to hurt you." Then he bent down to kiss her. She turned her head.
"Stop it, Mike! Stop! What are you doing?" She tried to pull away, but he pushed her up against the wall, pinning her there with his body, one arm around her, holding her own arms tight to her sides, the other braced against the wall, palm flat, fingers spread. He ground his mouth into hers, and she struggled and twisted, her body bucking against his as he pressed into her. He felt like a brick wall, unmoving.
She wrenched her mouth from his and screamed, an ear-piercing cry for help. "Victor!"
His eyes, mocking before, now burned with something carnal and fierce as he covered her mouth with his hand. "Who is Victor?" he growled, thrusting against her hard. "Is that who had his hands all over you out front for all the world to see? Is it? Is Victor your new boyfriend, Julie?" He lowered his face until she could see her reflection in his glassy eyes. "I don't think so. You're mine." He leaned back a little, his eyes roving over her, from her eyes, to her mouth, then her breasts. "You gave yourself to me long, long ago, and I'm not letting anyone else move in on my territory." He brushed his fingers across her lips, down the side of her neck, along her collarbone, then followed the curve of her scooped neckline. "You're mine," he said again, his voice suddenly softer, gentler. "Tell me you're still my own Julie."
Ferocious barking preempted the hurtling mass of fur that burst through the front door and charged into the kitchen. Mike yelped as the dog lunged at him, then he shoved Juliette in front of him.
"Call him off! Now!" He shook her so hard her head bobbled, blurring her vision for a moment. "Get him off!"
Too shocked to do otherwise, she stuck out her hand to Bob, and he came to her, licking her fingertips, whimpering and growling simultaneously. He must have sensed her fear, she thought, noticing the dribble of urine he was leaving on the floor. "Bob, come here. It's okay. It's okay." The fur standing up along the dog's back began to flatten as she stroked his head, scratched his ears. Where is Victor?
"Put him in the garage." Mike's grip tightened and she moaned; there would be bruises on her shoulder. "Put him in the garage!" he repeated, his voice husky, grating in her ear.
She did as he commanded, taking the dog by the collar, and pulling him toward the door at the end of the kitchen, Mike still pressed against her back, walking in step with her.
She couldn't believe this was happening. She couldn't believe this was Mike. Her Mike.
No, this was not her Mike. This was someone else. You are not my Mike, she screamed in silence. Opening the door to the garage, she pushed the dog out. "It's okay, baby. It's okay." Her voice was high and tight, her throat locked in the grip of her terror.
Where is Victor? The dog fought fiercely, desperate to stay inside with his mistress, until Mike kicked him in the side, slamming the door as Bob thumped up against the front of Juliette's car.
"Bob!" She cried out, straining to break away as Mike pulled her back across the room, switching the light off as they turned into the short hallway. He stopped, out of breath, and leaned a shoulder against the wall. "Lucy," he said quietly, his voice taking on a nasal quality that sounded nothing like Ricky Ricardo's. "I'm home!" He grinned down at her, a caricature of himself. "No wait. Here's a line you haven't used in a while. 'Take me to bed or lose me forever.' Name the movie, Julie. It's one of your favorites."
When she didn't answer he chuckled. "Do you remember my line? Come on, Julie. Just like old times. Show me the way home, honey." He bent down to kiss her again, this time more gently, a hint of tenderness in the way he held her. She fought hard, making Mike grunt with the effort to hang on to her.
Suddenly he stiffened and let out a low groan, then dropped his forehead to her shoulder. Surprise made her pause long enough to hear the breath hissing between his clenched teeth. He sounded like he was hurting; maybe she'd landed a well-aimed knee after all. She felt dampness on her neck; was he crying?
"Let me go," she begged him. "Please, Mike, we can talk about all this tomorrow, I promise." Her voice caught in her throat as he brought his head up suddenly, his eyes glazed as he stared at her in the faint glow from the bathroom night-light spilling into the hall beside them. His jaw clenched, he shook his head, moving once again toward the bedroom.
"Not tomorrow. Now. We need to...talk." He was gasping the words out, short of breath and trembling. "Julie, don't be afraid, please, baby. I didn't mean to scare you. I just want to talk. I...I need to sit down for...a...minute." He wasn't making any sense. He pushed open the bedroom door and dragged her into the room. The lamp on her bedside table was on—she always left it on when she was away at night. She'd never quite gotten over her irrational fear of the boogie man from childhood. She looked up at him as he kicked the door closed behind them and her eyes widened in shock. He looked even worse; his face was pasty, and his lips pulled tight across his teeth, just two thin lines pressed together. She could see beads of sweat on his forehead, pooling in the creases around his eyes, dotting the curve of his cheekbones, his upper lip.
"Are...are you okay?" She couldn't believe she was asking him that question, but in a moment of clarity, she realized something was terribly wrong, something much worse than an aggressive ex-boyfriend. Fear for herself was suddenly overshadowed by fear for Mike.
"Juliette!" Victor. Her body went limp, her legs nearly giving out as relief washed over her.
Mike, who'd been leaning into her, stumbled and went down to his knees, taking her with him. He grunted as the weight of her body fell against him, and when he toppled over, she cried out. But Mike's hand clamped down over her mouth.
"Don't...shhh. Don't let him in. Please. He won't understand. I...just want to...talk." He stared at her with terrible eyes and she nodded. He pulled himself back up to his knees and stopped to catch his breath.
Juliette watched him struggle. "Mike, you need help. Let me call an ambulance."
"No! I just need to catch...my...breath." He was grimacing again but managed to stand on his own two feet. "You're quite the little fighter, you know that?" Then another groan emanated from deep inside him and he started to sway. She leapt to her feet and tried to steady him, but he was too heavy, already falling, going down like a rock. He slumped against her bedside table sending the lamp crashing to the floor, and the light went out. As she groped for him in the dark, his head fell forward, colliding with her mouth.
"Help!" she screamed, the shock of pain giving her a voice.
