“Now I’ll have to go down to Washington, stand in front of ten three-star and higher generals, and explain that what they want can’t be done.”
Lily tried for empathy, but none was forthcoming. In fact, she realized in astonishment, she almost wished Greg would hit her, as he plainly meant to at some point, and leave. She wanted to be back in the nursery. It had been nearly an hour, and the woman would be thirsty.
“What was her name?” Lily asked.
“Huh?” Greg had begun stroking the crack of her ass, something she hated. She willed herself to be still, not to brush his hand away.
“The terrorist, the woman. What was her real name? Did they find out?”
“Dorian Rice. She escaped from the Bronx Women’s Correctional a year ago! You believe that?”
Lily did.
“I have just enough time for dinner before I leave.”
Lily knew her role now: she was supposed to serve dinner, then ask if he wanted anything, if there was anything she could do for him. She sensed Greg waiting for her to ask; he knew this routine as well as she did. And yet Lily found herself unable to act.
If he decides he wants to screw, I’ll go out of my fucking mind.
Greg’s hand had stopped stroking her crack, a small favor that suddenly seemed worth whatever might happen next. Lily slipped out of his arms. “I’ll go get you some food.”
He grabbed her arm before she’d taken two steps toward the kitchen, his hand clamping hard. “What are you thinking about?”
“You.” Lily wondered if Dorian Rice would be hungry, if she could eat solid food. She should have asked the doctor.
“No, you’re not,” Greg replied, his voice petulant. “You’re thinking about something else. I don’t like it when you do that.”
“Do what?”
“I don’t like it when you go somewhere else in your head. You’re supposed to be here with me.”
You fucking candyass. Lily bit down on the words, bit down hard. Candyass … it was Maddy’s favorite insult; she’d applied it to at least half the people in Media by the time she was fourteen.
“Why don’t you say you love me? I’ve had a lousy day.”
Lily opened her mouth, even found her lips edging into an oval to shape the words.
I can’t say it.
But what if he hits you?
Well, what if he fucking well does?
That was Maddy again. She and her perennially foul mouth seemed to have taken up residence in Lily’s head. Greg’s hand had coiled in her hair, and he yanked her head backward, not hard enough to be truly painful, but enough for a warning. Lily felt a muscle pop in her neck.
“Everything I do for you, Lil … don’t you love me?”
She looked up into his eyes (brown, with just a hint of green) and gritted her teeth. It was going to be one of those nights; it had gone too far now for it not to be. But she might reduce the oncoming damage by playing her part.
At what price, Lil? Maddy asked. Lily could almost see her now, smirking, her blonde hair tied up into the Goth-girl pigtails she’d favored since she was about nine. Maddy had never met Greg; she’d disappeared two years before Lily first brought Greg home. And yet, even in the beginning, the good days, Lily had always known deep down what Maddy would have thought.
Greg tugged harder now, pulling Lily’s hair, hurting her scalp, and she opened her mouth, not knowing if she meant to say it or not. Even if Dorian couldn’t eat solid food, she would need something; maybe Lily could bring her some soup. Chicken broth; that should be safe enough. That was what invalids always ate in books. Lily should give Dorian some books, too, from her hidden stash, so that she wouldn’t be bored.
“You do love me, don’t you Lil?”
What if she can’t read?
“Lil? Say you love me.”
“No.”
The word was out before she could pull it back, and Greg flung her across the living room, into the teak cabinet that housed the screen. Lily’s forehead hit first, splitting open and leaving a smear of blood on the dark wood. The cut didn’t hurt so much, but then her midsection also ran into the corner of the cabinet, knocking the wind out of her. It felt like someone had kicked her intestines in. Lily opened her mouth but couldn’t speak; her breath was stuck somewhere in her throat, trying to get down into her lungs, allowing only a series of hoarse gasps. Blood trickled into her left eye, and when she looked up, she saw Greg approaching through a haze of scarlet. The rug was scattered with drops of blood.
“What did you say to me?”
Good question. Lily had put a lock on her throat a long time ago, so that everything would need to pass through a filter before coming out. There was a very real lock there now, a physical one; she struggled to draw breath. But the other lock, the one that mattered … it had broken wide open. She wiped blood from her eye and braced herself as Greg bent down toward her. His face was red with anger, and the corners of his eyes had squeezed down into deep pockets, but the eyes themselves … they were empty.
“Want to apologize?”
Part of her did. If she apologized, and did it well, he would fuck her and then leave her alone for the rest of the night. If she wasn’t such a good actress, he might give her a few more sporting injuries and then fuck her anyway.
Going to be a bad night.
He was about to hit her again. His fist hadn’t even clenched, but over the past year Lily had developed good radar for such things. She sensed the oncoming blow, perhaps even before the impulse had left Greg’s own brain. She grabbed the leg of his grey suit pants with one bloody hand and pulled herself up into a crouch before he could jump backward. Her stomach was still hitching, but as she straightened and stood, everything relaxed inside her and she drew a pure, clean breath of air that seemed to fill her up.
“You got blood on my suit.” Greg’s tone was astonished, as though Lily had defied gravity. “Now I’ll have to change.”
“How terrible for you.”
He grabbed her by the hair and threw her out of the corner. Lily tripped over the coffee table, barking her shin and landing in a pile of government flyers that flew everywhere, scattering across the living room floor. She tried to shove herself up, but Greg was behind her, pushing her back down as if she weighed nothing, pinning her against the coffee table. He pulled up her dress, and Lily fought harder, suddenly understanding what was going to happen next. She thought of the woman in the nursery, the bullet hole in her stomach, how brave she’d been … she held the idea tightly as Greg ripped her panties off and shoved inside her. He’d planted his arm in the small of her back to keep her still, but Lily hitched involuntarily as she felt something tear deep inside her on the left side. A groan was climbing up the back of her throat, but she bit down on the skin of her hand. Greg would like it if she made a hurt sound. There was no logic to this, it was simply something she knew.
Movement from over her shoulder caught her eye. She looked backward, past Greg’s arm pinning her neck, and saw an upside-down Jonathan standing in the front hall behind her, frozen, his eyes wide. His car keys were still in his hand.
Shame crashed down on Lily. She did her best to hide the bruises, knowing very well that she wasn’t fooling anyone. Jonathan knew the score; he had taken her to the emergency room when Greg broke her arm. But this was much worse, and everything in Lily screamed that it had to be hidden. She couldn’t watch it reflected in anyone’s eyes but her own.