This chapter is dedicated to my follower Crazed_Writer17 whose inline comments made me laugh and confirmed I was on the right track with my readers. Thanks for your support.

10 - Shopping  

We continued our honeymoon phase for a few more days though the tension was slowly building. My high school had uniforms but that had never prevented my dad and me to go clothes shopping at the end of the summer. Brent wanted to treat me to something nice and do the same.

My father and I had had this little routine. He would give me $200 to get what I had wanted and he would disappear to the food court for some coffee. I had browsed through the shops, earmarking my favorite items until I had been ready to strike. The $200 would always get me about half of what I had selected and afterwards, I had dragged my father along and had played fashion show. That had guaranteed me a few extra pieces. It had always been a lot of fun.

Yet, Brent insisted to tag along as soon as we got to the mall and it was a losing battle right from the start. He picked out the clothes to try on and decided what I should get. When he realized I wasn't happy about it, he came up with this ridiculous explanation.

"You know, honey, except for when you see yourself in the mirror, you don't actually notice what you wear. I, on the other hand, have the benefit of looking at you all the time and it is only fair if you dress in the clothes I like, especially since I am paying for them."

What a logic. "That means I can pick out your outfits, too?" I asked.

"Of course," he grinned. "If you want to, we can buy a shirt for me."

He took me to his favorite shop and his idea of a choice was to decide on the color of one of the polo shirts he liked. There were only six different options, none of them funky enough to prove a point.

"Take the navy one," I yielded. "It brings out the blue in your eyes."

He was more than happy to oblige.

Next was the hairdressers. Since I started a new life, I had planned on getting a new cut, something totally different, maybe even a bob which would have meant parting from half my hair. This time, Brent didn't even ask for my opinion.

"She wants soft curls and highlights," he informed the beautician. "Maybe a light perm will be best."

"You can't perm and color in one day," the woman pushed back.

"Well, then let's get the color today and we will perm next weekend."

Two hours later, my new appearance met his approval. Next, he also butted in at the manicurist. I had never been able to afford such a luxury and was looking forward to some long artificial stick ons but Brent wanted my nails natural.

"Is color OK?" the girl actually dared to ask him without even looking at me.

"Yeah." He started to massage my shoulders when he noticed the tension in my face. "How about pink, sweetie?"

"I don't like pink. It's too girlish."

"What color do you like?"

"Black." I actually didn't think that was at all appealing but I wanted to make just one decision I knew he would disapprove of. I guess it was my futile attempt of a rebellion.

He laughed. "Don't be silly. You would look like a Goth person." He beamed at the manicurist. "Make it pink. I am sure she will love it once she realizes how pretty it looks on her."

That was the end of my shopping spree. I was dying of thirst and nagged him to get me a Coke, so we strolled towards the food court. Caroline was sitting there with some other girls from my year and waived excitedly when she saw us.

"Let's go somewhere else," Brent urged and tucked on my arm. "It's way too crowded."

I hadn't seen Caroline all summer. "I'll be right back." I stormed off before he could object. He followed me reluctantly. Caroline and I had kind of made up before the school break and were at least back on civil speaking terms though we had not even remotely gotten back to the way we used to be.

"Hey Car." We hugged like we always did but it felt really forced. "What's up?"

"Not much. Any news?"

Brent's arms wrapped around me from behind. "Rena and I are living together."

Caroline's mouth fell open. "And your dad allowed that?"

"It's a long story," I said, shrugging. "In the end, he didn't have much of a choice."

There was an akward silence while Caroline and Brent engaged in some kind of stare showdown.

"I guess I'll see you in school," I muttered when Brent started nibbling my ear, a sign to the world that he was planning to take me home to bed. I had always hated when couples behaved like that in public and felt uneasy.

"Sure." Caroline gave me a curd smile. "See you Tuesday."

Brent grabbed my hand and whisked me away.

"You know, I really don't like her," he admitted. "I always have the feeling she wants to break us up."

"Caroline is my best friend." I reminded him. "She would never try to interfere with my happiness."

He laid his arm possessively around my shoulders. "I thought I was your best friend."

"You are my boyfriend. That's different."

"Why?"

I glanced at him. "There are things that girls only tell other girls. I am sure it's the same with guys."

He stopped abruptly and gazed deep into my eyes. "You should never trust anyone other than me," he said seriously. "People are jealous - it's part of their nature. Any friend will betray you eventually by telling your secrets to someone else. They have at least one other best friend who has another and so on and soon, the whole world knows everything about you. It's dangerous to be too close to anyone other than someone you love."

I was not sure I agreed with his doomsday theory on friendship but was not up for an argument. I promised not to reveal anything about us to anyone.

We got home and I decided to take a shower. It felt great to stand under the hot water pelting down on me and Brent soon joined me. He totally turned me on and we made love all evening, still making up for lost times from my 'incarceration' with my dad. I fell asleep, totally exhausted and by the next morning, he had put all of the purchases neatly into the closet.

Everything was folded exactly the same and the clothes on the hangers were sorted by category and color, going from dark to light with the tops on the left and the pants and skirts on the right. I was always a sloppy person and was sure that by next weekend, everything would be a mess again. I would soon learn that such a mindset was not acceptable.

It was Sunday and we relaxed, watching movies and ordering takeout. The next day was Labor Day and I got everything ready for school. He made me label all my folders and showed me how to starch my blouses. Usually, my father had taken my school uniforms to the cleaners. It had been the only luxury he had afforded since he was desperate at house work but Brent felt that ironing was an important skill for me to learn. After all, once he had his office, I was expected to keep his business attires in meticulous condition.

It was the first time I realized how different our upbringings must have been. As a single dad, there weren't many skills my father had taught me that could be beneficial to a housewife but his mother had spent her whole life waiting hand and foot on Brent and her husband. I wasn't sure I would be able to live up to his expectations but when I voiced my concern, he shrugged it off.

"Don't worry, baby, I will teach you everything you need to know and I promise I'll be patient and try not to get angry."

I found his statement odd but didn't think much about it at the time. I enjoyed my freedom, staying up as long as I wanted to and spent time with Brent. There were no more rules - that's at least what I thought.

Later that night when he checked his e-mails, he became enraged. Apparently, he had registered too late for his courses and didn't get the classes he wanted.

"I'm telling you," he shouted. "For the money I spend, they should be more accommodating. This is ridiculous. If they don't have enough spaces, they should add more options."

"How many credits are you going to take?"

"Eighteen."

I was surprised. "Isn't that going to be too much pressure?"

He blinked at me irritably, then slammed the laptop shut. "It will be fine. I have you now to do the housework and that will free up some of my time."

I didn't like the sound of this. "I will be busy with school, too."

He pulled me on his lap, the anger forgotten. "Things will work out, you'll see."

He kissed me longingly. "I love you so much. I'm so glad we are together."

That got me. I would have done anything for him at that moment, wanting to make him happy so badly. I needed to remain the woman of his dreams so he would never leave me because being all alone was the one thought I couldn't handle.

                                                                        xxxx

 The next morning, I was surprised that he got dressed in a business suit.

"Help me with the tie, will you?" he demanded.

I straightened the knot and looked at him approvingly. He was wearing an expensive navy pinstriped wool suit with a starched white shirt and a navy tie with little red dots. The black polished loafers cost more than a small TV. He had exceptional good taste in those types of outfits and knew how to represent himself in public to portray an aura of respect and wealth.

"Do you have a job interview or something?" I asked.

"No," he replied, observing himself critically in the mirror. "I have to go to court. There will be pre-trial motions in my case."

I froze. I had totally forgotten about the statutory rape charge and had actually thought it had already been resolved. I had no clue there were still pending charges.

"Will there be a trial?" I asked concerned. It meant I would have to testify against him.

"Not if I can prevent it." He kissed my forehead. "Don't look so scared, honey. I am not going anywhere." He laughed. "The worst that can happen is that we have to get married straight away."

I was confused. "What difference does that make?"

"There is a law called 'marital privilege'. Usually, it is limited to communications between spouses but Dave said that it would probably be extended to prevent the prosecution from forcing you to testify. Since you are emancipated, we are free to marry at any time."

My heart was pounding. I could become his wife. There was nothing more I wanted.

"I wouldn't mind at all," I hushed.

He chuckled. "Let's first wait how things peg out. I don't want to rush into things."

"OK," I mumbled meekly.

He pulled me into his arms. "Go to school now. I expect you home right afterwards and want dinner ready at six. Maybe you can make spaghetti and meatballs. That's not too difficult."

He planted a kiss on my mouth and was off. The whole day I was nervous and couldn't concentrate in school. Caroline sought me out, trying to catch up with what had happened over the summer, but I was so distracted that I wasn't even paying attention to her. I guess I hurt her feelings and from that day forward, she began to withdraw. I was busy and didn't even notice.

After school, I went to the supermarket and bought some spaghetti and meatballs from the deli counter to add to the prefab sauce. My dad and I had always had frozen garlic bread and I grabbed some from the freezer. I felt very adult like when I paid for my own groceries and was actually excited to cook for me and my man.

My high spirits didn't last long. Just before six, Brent arrived home and from the slamming of the door, I knew things must not have gone as planned.

His eyes were dark with anger when he stepped into the kitchen. He looked utterly tense and stressed.

"What happened?" I asked.

"They almost revoked my bail because the prosecutor informed the judge that we are living together and likely continue to have sex even though you are still under seventeen."

I stared at him with wide eyes. "Can they do that?" I was really scared.

"Yep." He flung himself into the kitchen chair. "If you continue to commit crimes while out on bail, they can lock you up at any time until your trial."

"What did you tell the judge?" I was afraid of the answer.

"The truth. That this is a personal vendetta against me by your dad because he didn't agree with your emancipation. I of course lied and swore I never touched you."

I wasn't sure I liked the idea of him being untruthful in court. "And what happened then?"

He grinned smugly. "The judge freaked out – you should have seen his face. He yelled at the prosecutor that a police officer's child should not be under any more scrutiny than anyone else and if he found out that your dad had anything to do with it, he would hold him in contempt. But he still didn't dismiss the charges." He caressed my cheek when he saw my frightened eyes. "Don't worry, honey, things will be fine. But Dave advised we need to lay low and shouldn't have sex until this has been resolved. The cops could come and search the house at any time and if they found any evidence, I will be going to jail."

I nodded. He scanned the kitchen and frowned.

"What is this?" he asked with almost solid black eyes, his hand pointing at the stove in a swooping motion.

"I'm cooking dinner." I said proudly.

He went rigid, his whole body hostile. "Look at this mess," he shouted. "It will take you hours to clean this up."

He was, of course, exaggerating, the kitchen didn't look that bad. I didn't realize the danger I was in when I laughed it off. "Come on, baby, I'm almost done. Why don't you set the table?"

The blow was totally unexpected and knocked me off my feet. I tasted blood in my mouth.

"No," he yelled. "You will clean up now."

I wasn't quick enough and a kick to my stomach followed his initial assault. I cried out, instinctively rolling myself up into a ball to protect my belly and face.

"Get moving," he growled.

I crawled on my hands and knees towards the stove and pulled myself up. With trembling hands, I began feverishly to wipe away the sauce splashes and the residue of where the boiling water had flooded the stove.

What happened next could have probably been avoided if I had been more careful but I was in shock and my elbow pushed against the pot with the sauce in my eagerness. With horror, I watched it slide off and the whole world around me became fuzzy – all I saw was the pot falling in slow motion and Brent's furious eyes.

I screamed as he grabbed me by my hair and tossed me against the wall. "You stupid klutz," he hollered.

He unfastened his belt from his pants and raised his arm. I shrieked when the leather ate into my cheek, the pain soaring through my head all the way to the depth of my skull. The next blow hit me right across my chest. Tears started to wet my face, burning the small cut he left with his first strike.

"Please, Brent," I screeched, sobs battling my body. "STOP."

He was merciless. He punished me until I was shaking from tears and agony, his arm rising and falling at least a dozen times. My whole body was throbbing. When he finally stopped, he finished me off with a kick to my back.

"Clean up, bitch, and if you forget even the smallest spot, I will beat you until you are unable to move. Have I made myself clear?"

I didn't respond.

His fingers pulled my hair, tilting back my head, his mouth right next to my ear. "I didn't hear you?"

"Yes," I whispered. "You were very clear."

He let go and slowly rose. "I will go down to the restaurant and get myself something to eat." He was calm, his eyes three shades lighter. "I expect you to be done and ready for bed by the time I'll come back."

"OK," I muttered, hoping this wouldn't enrage him any further. He left, banging the door behind him.

In total anguish and deadly fear, I started to follow his orders. By the time, he came home, I had managed to get the kitchen spotless and was already in bed, pretending to be asleep.

He was drunk and snored next to me. I was up most of the night, crying silently into my pillow, unable to twitch a single muscle without any pain. Those nights would become my new reality.

Another violent episode - yet this time, Rena can't walk out of the door anymore as easily since they are living together. Do you feel she is trapped or should just try to make amends with her father?

How did you like the delivery of the whole scene. Was there enough tension built up and did you feel the trigger about her messiness was believable? How do you feel about his outburst?

Finally, the shopping spree. Again, there were red flags - this time him taking control over her appearance and further alienation from her friends. Did you notice them? Keep in mind that financially, she is totally dependent on him. She has no money or a job which is yet another element which is often present in an abusive relationship.

I would be thrilled to hear from you and don't forget to vote if you felt that this was a deserving chapter.