*** WARNING: This chapter contains adult material. This is a domestic violence disclaimer. If you are sensitive to adult content please do not read any further. ***
I got home shortly before Matthew. I stopped by the market to pick up a few ingredients for the drinks I planned on making him later that night. I thought if he knew how good I was, he would be more open to the idea of me working. Matthew got home later then normal. I greeted him flirtatiously but he seemed quiet and distant...almost angry. I brought Matthew to the bar and started mixing him a drink. I tried to make conversation but he only responded in short answers and nods.
Nervously, I handed him the drink. He drank in complete silence as I wiped down the bar. "Is there a point to this?" he finally asked. "Oh...yea...so I went to Waylond's Haunt today and spoke with Daisy. She said if I wanted," I paused, suddenly too nervous to speak. Matthew looked at me with dark eyes. "Well..." he prompted. I cleared my throat and continued. "Umm...she said if I wanted I could work part time. That is..if it's okay with you." The room went silent. Matthew finished his drink and threw the glass across the room, shattering it into a million pieces.
Matthew walked over to me, shouting. "Do you know why I was late today?" he asked loudly, his face inches away from mine. I shook my head. "I got a phone call from my personal assistant. He was going over phone records and saw that you called Nancy on our wedding night! You promised me! You told me you were done with them and you called her on our WEDDING night!" he screamed. I stood in stunned silence, too afraid to speak.
"Betrayed by my own wife. I'm going to make you regret this!" Matthew said, shoving me backwards into the wall.
I was crying now, weakly pleading with him to stop. "So I come home to confront you about this," he continued, "only to find out you went behind my back to look for a job!" Matthew said, balling his fists. "Matthew please!" I begged him, tears streaming down my face.
I was looking down at the floor, not at his hands, so I didn't see the hit coming until his fist made contact with my face. I flew off my feet, stunned.
I wandered into the entry way and looked in the mirror. My eye socket was bruised. Matthew had hit me so hard, the color of the bruise streaked across the bridge of my nose onto the other side of my face as well. I put my hand to my head to try and soothe the pounding pain.
I knew Matthew did not want me in the bedroom that night so I curled up on the game room couch and passed out. The last thing I remember was feeling the rhythmic pulsating of my blood on my new bruise.