Taking Faith (3 page)

              She heard his father say, "Are you disrespecting me?"

              She stopped at the doorframe just in time to see his father grab him by his collar and slam him against the wall as he'd done the night before. He punched the side of his head and Roger saw her out of the corner of his eye. "Go!" he yelled at her before looking back at his dad. "Father, I wasn't being disrespectful."

              He smacked him on the side of the head again. "Oh, yes, you were!"

              She disappeared inside the room and shut the door. She searched the room for a hiding place and jammed herself into the closet, slamming the door behind her and pushing the shoes out of the way. She brought her knees up to her chest and rocked as she wrapped her arms around them. Her pinkie finger caught something and she raised her hand to see in the sliver of light.

              It was a ring.

              He'd put a ring on her
I'm Married
finger and she hadn't even realized it. She jerked her hand back down and tried not to think, but it was awfully hard when all she could hear was the yelling and banging going on out there. She didn't get it. Why did Roger, who was exceptionally larger than his father, let him do that to him? He could easily have defended himself from the blows if nothing else. And why hadn't he hit her? She could tell by the look on his face he wanted to. Or he at least wished that he wanted to. It would make things easier for him if he would.

              She leaned her chin on her hands and closed her eyes. After some time, she heard the door slam and then Roger's footsteps were coming. She tensed, not sure of what to expect from him. The bedroom door opened and then the closet door. He stared down at her and she waited once more.

              "We've got to get ready to go to Alex's," he told her, his voice low and strange. "Get up."

              "Why?" she whispered before she could stop herself. She saw his face turn hard so she hurried up to finish her sentence. "Why don't you fight back?"

              His face turned several shades of red before settling on one dark and embarrassed and angry. He held his hand out and she took it and he pulled her up quickly. His face was just inches from hers and he said his words to her in harsh whispers. "I don't fight back because that would be disrespectful, something you apparently know nothing about!"             

              "My parents never treated me that way," she whispered and he raised his hand…as if to hurt her, but she knew he wouldn't. She just knew. She didn't even flinch. He held his shaking hand there for a long time trying to work up the courage to do it. Eventually he lowered his hand and grabbed her face in his hands.

              "I wish I could hit you. I wish I could do what I'm supposed to do, but I just can't seem to…" He shook his head and let her go."Get dressed. I brought some of my mother's clothes here for you. They're in that dresser."

              She stood silently, her face burning. He'd touched her so gently, though his words had been harsh. He wished he could hit her… She shook the thought away and went to the dresser. She pulled out a dress and was surprised that it was her size. It was purple with flowers, something she would have never worn before all this. She pulled off her clothes and slipped the dress over her head. She stared at herself in the vanity mirror. She looked an awful mess.

              Oh, well.

              She made her way to the living room and stood in the entrance as he buttoned his shirt. He was mumbling to himself. It looked as though he'd worked himself into a frenzy, too. When he saw her, his eyes stayed on her longer than usual and she squirmed, shrinking against the wall.

              All she wanted to do was go to bed and cry, but now she had to go and meet another man and his wife. Maybe she would recognize her. She tried to keep that thought together in her mind. He jerked his head to the door and she made a slow path there. He grabbed her upper arm gently and turned her to look at him. "Do not try to run. Do you understand?"

              She nodded, feeling a tear slip from the corner of her eye. He kept going. "The house we're going to…Alex. He's pretty perfect." He chuckled and shook his head. "He's been my best friend for years and I want him to think that I have everything under control here. I want him to tell my father later that you were…scared of me." She jerked to look at him in reflex. "Don't make me hurt you. I… Just don't make me hurt you."

              He kept her arm in his hand as he took her to the truck. They drove a very short distance to another house and got out. She looked at the nicely manicured lawn and wondered what this man would be like. And why? Why did these men need to do this to get women?

              Roger took her arm again, taking her from her thoughts, and took her to the back door. Her heart thumped painfully. As soon as that door opened, Roger was a different person. He was laughing and boisterous. He joked. But it was the woman there that captivated Amy's attention. She found herself practically running to her. She had no idea who she was, but she remembered that face from the warehouse. The girl opened her arms to her and took her to the kitchen. She poured out her heart about how scared she was and how mean Roger was. Though, if she were being honest, he wasn't really. He was strange, but she couldn't really put her finger on what was going on with Roger. It was almost as if he didn't want her there.

              They ate supper and she tried not to stare at Roger because he was acting like a total jerk. She'd never seen him act this way and it confused her. He was bragging about getting the prettiest girl, like he was trying to insult the girl, Elena, or even Alex. Alex seemed…nice almost.

              That all changed when Elena took Roger's plate from the table. Roger was enraged and yelled something at her Amy didn't hear because she was so scared of what was coming. He wouldn’t… He did. He slapped that girl across the face. She fell back into the chair. Alex started yelling at him, and Amy took that opportunity to take Elena to the kitchen. She apologized for what Roger had done, but soon Alex came in and asked for Amy to leave. She went back out with Roger reluctantly. She didn't know if she could just sit and watch if Alex was going to beat her.

              But it was Roger that took her attention. He was pacing by the table. He kept glancing down at the mess the plates had made when he'd made her drop them all and grabbing at his hair. "I did it," he said. "I did it."             

              He said it like he was proud, but he didn't look proud. She gripped the corner to keep herself upright as she watched the man unraveling before her eyes. He was on the verge of something. What, she didn't know, but it scared her to think about going home with that man. He turned and jolted when he saw her. He hadn't realized she was there. He barked at her, "Go tell them I'm ready to go."

              She did and Elena hugged her hard as Alex went to Roger. She thought about what to say to console Elena, but it was Elena that did the consoling. She told her, “Amy, listen to me. I know it’s hard and you don’t want to, but you have to trust me. Just be his wife. I know it sounds crazy, but just pretend that this is what you want, pretend you’re where you want to be. Find a happy place. Be his wife, Amy.”

              Amy left then, being pulled by the arm by Roger. He didn't look at anyone as they left. She thought about what Elena had said. That was just crazy. She looked over at Roger.
He
was crazy. He got in the truck and mumbled some more to himself about being a good man, about his father being proud, that this was proof that he could do this. Though his words were praiseful, his eyes were haunted. The short ride to his house was silent. He got out and waited for her to join him before unlocking the door. Once they entered he locked the door and put the key in his pocket.

              He turned to her and she wanted to feel sorry for him. She really did. He was a broken man. His eyes were red and on the verge of tears it seemed, his hands shaking and misguided as they raked his hair once again. He moved toward her and she raised her hands as she gasped. He stopped and glanced at her arm. He took it in his hands and fit his fingers over the bruises. He closed his eyes as if in agony, turning his head as he said, "Go to bed."

              She didn't care that it was the afternoon. Burying herself in the bed to cry was what she wanted, so she went swiftly and closed the door.

* * *

              He'd done it. Roger had hit the girl who needed to be taught a lesson. It wasn't his girl. He couldn’t seem to muster up the gall to hit her…yet. But he'd have to get over that. This was his life, this was what he was supposed to do. This was what was right and good.

              If it was so good, if it was so right, if it was what God wanted for him, if it was what his father would be so incredibly happy about, then why did Roger feel like someone had stuck a hot poker in his chest? Why couldn't he seem to leave Amy's door without his breaths being pulled from him in anxiety? And why couldn't he get the horrified face of Alex's wife out of his mind?

* * *

              She opened her eyes sometime that night to a quiet house. She needed to use the bathroom so she got up and treaded as quietly as possible, but when she cracked the door open, he was there in the hall next to her door. He was leaning his back against the wall, his head resting in the doorframe of the hall closet as he sat. His arms were resting on his knees gently, but it was his face that made her pause. Even in his sleep he looked as if he were tortured. His hair was a mess from pulling at it.

              Why wasn't he sleeping on the couch…or the bed? What was he so upset about?

              She crept back into the room without using the bathroom, for fear of waking him up.

* * *

              She woke to a hammer. It was the next morning and she'd slept. Cried, but still slept. She was on top of the covers again on the end of the bed. She refused to use his blankets or his pillows. Those were his and though he never came in to sleep with her, which surprised her, she would not use them.

              She felt her eyes swollen and achy from crying long hours into the night. She must have cried in her sleep as well. She dreamed. She had dreams about the warehouse and all those girls, about Roger slapping Elena, about being stuck there forever in that house with him. She didn't move, didn't get up. She didn't care what he was hammering, but soon, he came in to wake her.

              She heard him at the door. "If the hammer won't wake you, we're going to have problems. Why don't you get up and make some breakfast?"

              She rolled over to see him. He was shirtless and a sweaty mess. He was holding the hammer on his shoulder like some kind of caveman. His arms…were huge. She huffed and turned back to press her face into the bed. He spoke again, closer this time. "Come on, get up, Amy."

              Her stomach curled at hearing him say her name and she tensed. She rolled over once more to reach the edge of the bed and stood. The bed separated them and she tried not to look at him. "I'm fixing a window for my store. We've got to go in today and catch up on some work. I'll show you everything you're going to be doing, but first, I'm going to take a shower. Have some breakfast ready, ok?"

              She nodded and he banged his hand on the door. "Speak."

              "Yes," she whispered and kept her eyes down until he was gone. She was still in his mother's dress, but had no other clothes, and had no interest in wearing anything else of hers, so she just made her way to the kitchen. She opened the fridge and looked inside to cook the monster's food. There was milk, eggs, bacon…

              She felt the first tear make its way down her cheek. Another morning in captivation, another day stuck with her kidnapper, another agonizing hour of drifting…

              She closed the fridge and leaned her head against it. The cool of the metal seeped into her and caused her to shiver. She felt unhinged and unable to stop what was coming. She felt the tears fall to her arm and cried harder, her legs wobbly and unstable beneath her. She sank to the floor, her sorrow and anguish buckling her in two. She covered her mouth to lock it inside, but it was no use. She once again pressed her head to the fridge and just felt the emotions as they coiled and bubbled inside of her.

              She was losing it.

              Her mind flashed with pictures of living at home with her parents. Her family had been very close and loving. Her sister was older than her and got married a few years ago. She was the maid of honor and stayed with them some after that. Their perfect little house was filled with love and happiness. It made her ache for all of that…all that she deserved and wanted for herself in life had been taken from her.

              She flinched when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She peeked over and saw Roger squatting on the floor next to her. His face was etched with concern, his forehead lined and taut. Though his mouth was a thin line, his words were comforting. "What happened? Did you cut yourself?"

              She shook her head 'no' and wiped her arm where the tears had streaked her skin. He moved his fingers and did the same. She looked and saw that he was wiping the bruises where he'd grabbed her. She heard his loud gulp and looked up at him confused. He repeated the movement with his fingers, smoothly, slowly and sadly. "Ask me if I regret this, Amy."

              "Why?" she whispered.

              "Just ask me."

              "Do you regret it?"

              "Do I regret what? Say the words, all of them."

              Her breath caught and hung in her throat. Was this to torture her or himself? She found her strength and gritted out, "Do you regret hurting me?"

              "Yes," he answered back, just as hard. "Now ask me if I'll do it again."