Chapter 10: The Price of Protection

Isabella's POV

"Penology and Corrections in a Nutshell," Mr. Chris began, his voice steady and authoritative. "This course delves into the philosophy and practice of punishment within the criminal justice system."

"In a nutshell," he continued, "we explore the fundamental why and how of punishment."

I leaned forward,  my curiosity piqued. "What are the main philosophies behind punishment?" I asked, eager to delve deeper into the subject.

Mr. Chris nodded, acknowledging my question. "We'll be examining deterrence, retribution, rehabilitation, and restorative justice," he explained. "Each philosophy offers a different perspective on the purpose of punishment and its role in society."

"Deterrence seems straightforward," I mused, "but what about retribution? How does that fit into the picture?"

"Retribution focuses on the idea of 'an eye for an eye,'" Mr. Chris clarified. "It's about punishing offenders as a form of justice, ensuring they 'pay' for their crimes in proportion to the harm they've caused."

The concept of rehabilitation intrigued me. "Can criminals truly be rehabilitated?" I asked, voicing a question that had long lingered in my mind.

"It's a complex issue," Mr. Chris admitted. "We'll explore the challenges and limitations of rehabilitation programs, as well as their potential for success."

As Mr. Chris delved into sentencing guidelines, I found myself engrossed in the discussion. "How do judges decide on the appropriate sentence?" I inquired, eager to understand the factors at play.

"Judges consider a variety of factors," Mr. Chris replied. "These can include the nature and severity of the crime, the offender's criminal history, and mitigating or aggravating circumstances."

"Moving on to correctional facilities," Mr. Chris resumed, "we'll explore the inner workings of prisons, jails, and other correctional institutions."

"How do they manage issues like overcrowding and security?" I asked, my mind buzzing with questions.

"Overcrowding is indeed a significant challenge," Mr. Chris acknowledged. "We'll examine how it affects living conditions and the delivery of rehabilitation programs. Security measures, such as surveillance systems and inmate classification, play a crucial role in maintaining order and safety within these facilities."

I nodded, absorbing the information. "And what about rehabilitation programs?" I queried. "Do they truly help inmates reintegrate into society?"

Mr. Chris nodded thoughtfully. "Rehabilitation programs vary widely in their effectiveness," he explained. "While some focus on job training and education, others address substance abuse or provide counseling services. We'll evaluate their impact on reducing recidivism and promoting successful reentry into society."

Everything was going quite peacefully until Alexander decided to barge into the room and stop the lessons abruptly.

"Who are you, and who gave you permission to come into my house?" Alexander's voice was sharp, and his eyes were blazing with anger.

I was shocked by Alexander's behavior; this was not how I expected him to welcome my guest into our home. "Why are you being like this, Alexander?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. "This is not only your house. Since our marriage, this house belongs to me as well, and I can invite whoever I want here. That is completely my decision."

Before Alexander could respond, Mr. Chris interrupted the conversation and introduced himself in a very polite manner. "Mr. Alexander, I am Mr. Chris, Isabella's tutor. I am here to help her complete her degree in criminal studies and to assist her in specializing in criminal psychology."

For some reason, Alexander seemed to become even more irritated. He ignored Mr. Chris and stepped closer to me, his face contorted with anger. "Ask him to leave right now," he gritted through his teeth.

I stared at him, confused and hurt by his irrational behavior. "Alexander, why are you acting like this? Mr. Chris is here to help me with my studies. There's no reason to be so hostile."

Alexander's eyes flashed with rage. "You don't understand, Isabella. This is not just about your studies. You are not safe alone out there, and anything can happen to you anytime."

I matched his intensity, refusing to back down. "Not safe? Are you serious, Alexander? Mr. Chris is a professional. He's here to help me, and you can't just dictate who I can or can't see."

Alexander's face hardened further. "I am your husband, and it's my duty to protect you. If I say he's not welcome here, then that's final."

I clenched my fists, my frustration boiling over. "Protect me? By locking me away and controlling every aspect of my life? That's not protection, Alexander, that's imprisonment."

Alexander took another step closer, his voice low and dangerous. "You don't know what you're talking about. I'm trying to keep you safe. What if I lose control? What if I end up doing something to you?"

His words sent a chill down my spine, but I refused to let him see my fear. "You won't hurt me, Alexander. But your behavior right now is doing more damage than you realize. If you can't trust me to make my own decisions, then what kind of marriage is this?"

The room was thick with tension, neither of us willing to back down. Mr. Chris, sensing the intensity, quietly gathered his things. "I'll come back another time, Isabella," he said softly.

"Thank you, Mr. Chris," I replied, my eyes still locked on Alexander's. "We'll reschedule."

"Let's be real, Alexander," I snapped, my frustration boiling over. "All of this has nothing to do with my protection or you wanting to protect me. All of this is just a bluff that you're saying to make me feel safe, but in reality, you have some other intentions. Do I really look that stupid to you?"

Alexander let out a chuckle, which only fueled my anger further. "What do you even find funny here?" I demanded.

In a swift motion, he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me closer, his grip firm yet unsettling. His voice softened as he gently tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "What is so unbelievable about a husband trying to protect his wife?" he asked, his voice dangerously calm.

His proximity and the sudden shift in his demeanor sent a shiver down my spine. "Your idea of protection is suffocating, Alexander," I retorted, trying to maintain my composure. "You can't control every aspect of my life and expect me to just accept it."

Alexander's behavior was like a flip of a switch. Yesterday, he was sunshine and beaches, reminding you of your happy place. Today, he was a storm cloud, booming about control.

"Your parents have given your responsibility to me, so I have all the right to control you," Alexander declared, his behavior a stark contrast to the previous day. Just yesterday, he had taken me to the beach, remembering it was my favorite place, and now he was asserting his control over me. "Come back to your senses, Alexander. Don't forget that the world does not revolve around your whims," I retorted, my voice shaking with anger.

I took a step back, my mind reeling. "I don't know about others and how they react to your behavior, but I am not someone who will just sit quietly and listen to you like a puppet." I turned to leave, my frustration boiling over.

Before I could take another step, he grabbed my hand tightly and pulled me close to him once again. "You think you can just walk away from me like that, and I'll let you go?" he hissed, his grip like a vice.

"Leave me, Alexander. I do not want to talk to you anymore," I demanded, trying to pull my hand free.

"In this house, everything goes according to me. Not a single person dares defy my rules and regulations, and you will be no exception," he growled, his eyes dark with anger. "You can have whatever you want, live however you please, but the moment you start to defy me, things are going to get very messy for you."

Alexander's words sent a chill down my spine, his true nature revealing itself in a way that was both terrifying and heart-wrenching. The control he sought over me was not out of love or protection, but something far darker.

"I thought something special was between us, Alexander," I said, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. "I felt like something was going on, that you loved me. I even started falling for you. I believed that whatever you did for me was out of love, but after today, I don't feel like it was ever love on your end. It was everything but love."

Alexander's grip on my arm tightened momentarily before he let go, his expression a mix of frustration and something I couldn't quite identify. "You think I don't care about you? That I don't love you?" he spat, his voice rising.

"Love? This isn't love, Alexander. Love doesn't control. Love doesn't intimidate. It supports, and nurtures. It doesn't make you feel like a prisoner," I shot back, my voice breaking.

"You don't understand," he began, but I cut him off.

"No, Alexander, you don't understand. You don't understand what it means to truly care for someone, to trust them and let them be themselves," I said, stepping back. "What you're doing isn't love. It's control, it's manipulation, and I can't live like this."

"It's not like you have any choice, Isabella," Alexander said, his voice dripping with condescension. "You cannot just leave the house when you want to because you're mad at me. You are a part of our family now, and you have to follow the rules and regulations that have been in place forever. I can't make an exception for you. Honestly, I don't have any reason to make an exception for you, so you just have to follow whatever I say without questioning it or trying to resist it."

My frustration boiled over. "What do you mean you cannot make an exception for me, Alexander? I don't know who these people are that you're talking about, but I am your wife. I am someone you should love, protect, and cherish, not control."

"This is not the type of husband I can be to you because of how things are in my family," he said, his voice filled with an eerie calm.

"What do you mean, Alexander? Who are you people? If you're bad, then how did my parents even agree to me marrying you?"

"Listen, I really don't think you have any business knowing all of that. For the sake of your own protection, you should be in the house and not let any strangers in," he said dismissively.

"But Alexander, he is my tutor. He has to come to the house to teach me so I can complete my degree. You know I am not allowed by either my parents or your parents to go to college. There has to be an alternative. My professor was kind enough to grant me this exception, letting a teacher come here. If even that much isn't allowed, then what's the point of even staying alive? Let me just die," I said, my voice breaking with despair.

The moment I mentioned death, Alexander's demeanor shifted. He grabbed my face gently but firmly, his voice soft yet intense. "Do not ever think about dying. I cannot let anything happen to you."

I let out a bitter laugh. "If you really care about me, Alexander, you wouldn't be controlling and dominating me like this. Stop with this bullshit of yours. Be straightforward. If you want to be mean to me, then just be mean. Stop giving me mixed signals. If you care, show it. If you don't, stop pretending."

Alexander's eyes bore into mine, his grip tightening slightly. "You think this is easy for me? You have no idea what I'm trying to protect you from."

"Then tell me, Alexander. Stop hiding behind your excuses. If you want me to trust you, be honest with me," I challenged.                                                                                                                                         

"There are people, Isabella, who will stop at nothing to hurt me," Alexander began, his voice trembling with intensity. "If they realize they can get to me by harming you, you're in grave danger. Anything could happen to you at any moment, and I can't let that happen. Even though we've only known each other for a short while, you've become my sanctuary. With you, I can forget the chaos of the world and all my worries. You bring me peace in a way nothing else ever has. I despise myself for it because it's made you my greatest weakness. You're an easy target, and that terrifies me."

I stood there, speechless, trying to process his words. Was it the danger he hinted at or his confession that left me stunned? The revelation that he felt so drawn to me, despite everything, was overwhelming.

"Are you involved in anything illegal, Alexander?" I asked, my voice calm but insistent.

"It's not that simple," he replied, frustration evident in his eyes. "My family has been entrenched in dangerous activities for a long time. I never wanted any part of it, but I have no choice because of my father. Honestly, I want to end this legacy. I don't want my children to be dragged into this life."

"Then talk to me, Alexander. If you don't tell me everything truthfully, how can I help you find a way out of this situation? Maybe I can do something, anything, to assist you. Even if I can't directly help, knowing the truth allows me to protect myself. Keeping me in the dark only makes it harder for me to understand you and our circumstances, and it will only widen the gap between us, which is the last thing I want." I tried to reason with him.

"I know you don't want to treat me the way you do, and I'm doing my best to be patient and understanding. But everyone has their limits, Alexander, and you're pushing mine. I'm not a toy you can play with and discard when you're no longer interested. You need to be completely honest with me about everything so that I can stand by you, support you, and protect myself. This is the only way we can bridge the distance between us and move forward together."

 His gaze, soft yet resolute, held mine captive, drawing me in like a moth to a flame. "At some point, you do have to know the truth, and maybe that day has finally come," he murmured, his voice a delicate blend of determination and tenderness.

I felt a gentle touch as he reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my skin. His touch, so familiar yet electrifying, sent shivers down my spine. "Right now, I have to leave immediately as I'm required elsewhere, but as soon as I'm back, I promise I'll be completely honest with you. No more secrets, no more lies."

My heart raced with anticipation, the sincerity in his eyes melting away any doubts. I couldn't help but reach out, clasping his hand in mine, seeking solace in his warmth. "Alexander, I need to know the truth. I need to understand what we're facing together."

He nodded, his lips brushing against the back of my hand in a tender kiss. "Before you came into my life, I honestly had no hope of escaping this path," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you, Isabella, you've ignited a small flame inside of me. A hope that I can break free, as long as you're there to support me."

Tears welled up in my eyes, emotion threatening to overwhelm me. "I'm here for you, Alexander. Always."

His eyes shimmered with unspoken feelings as he drew closer, our foreheads meeting in a silent exchange of understanding. "I don't know what it is about you, but you give me strength. You make me believe that I can find a way out of this darkness."

In that moment, the world around us faded into insignificance, leaving only the warmth of our connection. "Please, be careful," I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion.

"I will," he vowed, his lips grazing mine in a tender kiss. "And when I return, we'll face everything together. No more secrets."

Uncertainty suffocated me, each tick of the clock stretching into an unbearable eternity. My mind was a whirlwind of terrifying yet oddly alluring questions. A part of me craved answers, but another part flinched from the truth they might reveal.

Hours bled into one another, my composure fraying with each passing minute. No word from Alexander. Then, as twilight painted the sky, a sudden ring shattered the oppressive silence. My phone buzzed insistently, the sound making me jump.

With trembling hands, I answered, my voice laced with apprehension. "Hello?" I croaked, my heart a frantic drum in my chest.

An unfamiliar voice crackled through the receiver. "Is this Mrs. Alexander?"

"Yes, this is Isabella," I replied, my voice tight with worry. "Who is this?"

"Hello, Mrs. Isabella," the voice soothed. "We found this number on Mr. Alexander's phone. I found him on the road and brought him to Square Hospital. It would be best if you came here as soon as possible."

The blood drained from my face. The caller's words echoed in my head, each one a hammer blow. Without a second thought, I promised to be there, rushing to end the call.

The unknown voice, the urgency in their tone, the chilling mention of a hospital - it all sent shivers down my spine. With each passing second, the need to reach Alexander's side grew stronger, a singular purpose now driving me forward - to find out what had happened to my husband.

With a racing heart and frantic thoughts swirling in my mind, I dashed out of the house, barely pausing to grab my keys and phone. The night air felt unusually heavy as I hurried to the car, my mind consumed by worry and fear.

As I drove to the hospital, questions bombarded my mind like relentless waves crashing against the shore. What had happened to Alexander? Was he okay? Who had hurt him, or was it truly an accident? The uncertainty gnawed at my insides, fueling my anxiety with each passing moment.

When I finally reached Square Hospital, I rushed through the entrance, my footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. The dimly lit halls seemed to stretch endlessly before me as I navigated my way to the emergency ward, my heart pounding in my chest.

Upon reaching the ward, I approached the reception desk with a sense of urgency. "Excuse me," I said breathlessly to the nurse behind the desk, "I'm looking for Alexander. He was brought in earlier tonight. Can you tell me where he is?"

The nurse glanced up from her computer screen, her expression sympathetic. "Are you family?" she asked gently.

"Yes, I'm his wife," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

The nurse nodded understandingly. "He's in Room 214," she said, gesturing down the hallway. "You can go see him, but please be prepared. He's still unconscious, and the doctors are doing everything they can."

With a nod of thanks, I hurried down the corridor, my heart pounding in my ears. Room 214 loomed before me, its door closed like a barrier between me and the answers I desperately sought.

Summoning all the courage I had, I pushed open the door and stepped inside. The sight that greeted me was enough to stop my heart.

There lay Alexander, pale and still, surrounded by beeping machines and medical equipment. My breath caught in my throat as I approached his bedside, my eyes filled with tears at the sight of him lying there so vulnerable and helpless.

Gently, I reached out and took his hand in mine, squeezing it tightly as if to reassure myself that he was still here, still fighting. "Please, Alexander," I whispered, my voice choked with emotion, "please wake up. I need you."

I sat by Alexander's bedside, my fingers intertwined with his, as I waited for any sign of consciousness. The rhythmic beeping of the machines provided a steady backdrop to the tension-filled silence that enveloped the room. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, filled with worry and uncertainty.

As I sat there, lost in my thoughts, a faint stir from Alexander jolted me back to the present. My heart leaped with hope as I watched him, willing him to wake up, to open his eyes and reassure me that he was alright.

"Alexander," I whispered, my voice barely above a whisper, "can you hear me? Please, wake up."

There was no response, only the steady rise and fall of his chest as he continued to sleep. The minutes stretched into hours, and still, there was no change.

With a heavy heart, I leaned back in my chair, exhaustion washing over me like a tidal wave. The events of the day had taken their toll, leaving me drained and emotionally spent.

Hours passed in agonizing silence, broken only by the steady rhythm of Alexander's breathing. With each passing moment, my resolve grew stronger. I refused to succumb to despair, to let the darkness swallow me whole.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and a nurse entered the room, her expression grave. "Mrs. Isabella?" she addressed me, her voice tinged with concern.

I looked up, my heart pounding in my chest. "Yes, what is it?" I asked, barely able to keep the tremor from my voice.

The nurse hesitated, her eyes flickering to Alexander's still form before returning to mine. "There's something you need to know," she began, her words heavy with meaning. "The doctors have found evidence of foul play."

My breath caught in my throat, a cold shiver running down my spine. "Foul play?" I repeated, my mind reeling. "What do you mean?"

The nurse's gaze was steady, her tone solemn. "It appears that Mr. Alexander's injuries were not consistent with a simple accident," she explained. "There are signs of trauma that suggest he may have been attacked."

The words hit me like a physical blow, sending shockwaves of disbelief through my body. A thousand questions raced through my mind, each more terrifying than the last. Who could have done this to him? And why?

I turned to the nurse, my voice steady despite the turmoil raging within me. "Tell me everything," I said, my eyes locking with hers. "I need to know what happened to him."

The nurse hesitated, her eyes reflecting the gravity of the situation. "We're still piecing together the details," she began, her voice measured. "But from what we've gathered, it seems that Mr. Alexander was found unconscious on the roadside, with no witnesses to the incident."

My mind raced, trying to make sense of the information. Unconscious on the roadside... It sounded like something out of a nightmare, a dark and sinister turn of events that I never could have imagined.

"Was there any indication of who might have done this?" I asked.

The nurse shook her head sadly. "I'm afraid not," she replied. "We're still conducting tests and gathering evidence, but it's going to take some time before we have any definitive answers."

The hospital room felt stifling, suffocating, as I sat there, my gaze fixed on Alexander's motionless form. Each passing moment weighed heavily on my chest, a constant reminder of the uncertainty that loomed over us.

I reached out to brush a lock of hair from his forehead, my touch gentle against his clammy skin. "Please, Alexander," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. "You have to fight. You can't leave me like this."

But there was no response, no sign that he could hear me. He remained still, trapped in the grip of unconsciousness, his face devoid of any hint of recognition.

Desperation clawed at my chest, threatening to overwhelm me. I wanted to scream, to rage against the unfairness of it all. But instead, I forced myself to stay calm, to focus on the task at hand.

I reached for his hand once more, holding it tightly in mine as if willing him to wake up. "I'm here, Alexander," I said, my voice trembling with emotion. "You're not alone. Please, come back to me."

Time blurred together, the minutes stretching into hours as I sat there, lost in my thoughts and fears. The rhythmic beeping of the monitors provided a steady backdrop to my turmoil, a reminder of the fragility of life.

And then, finally, a flicker of movement. A subtle shift in Alexander's expression, a barely perceptible flutter of his eyelids.

My heart leaped in my chest as I leaned closer, my breath catching in my throat. "Alexander?" I whispered, my voice filled with hope and trepidation.

And then, impossibly, miraculously, his eyes fluttered open, revealing a glimmer of awareness within their depths. He blinked up at me, confusion clouding his features for a moment before recognition dawned in his eyes.

"Isabella," he murmured, his voice hoarse and weak. "What... what happened?"

Relief flooded through me as I reached out to cup his face in my hands. "You were in an accident," I said, my voice trembling with emotion. "But you're going to be okay. You're going to make it through this."

A weak smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he squeezed my hand gently. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his words barely audible. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"It's not your fault," I said softly, my voice trembling with emotion. "You couldn't have known this would happen. What matters now is that you're here, that you're going to be okay."

His gaze met mine, filled with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. "Isabella," he murmured. "There's something I need to tell you."

I held my breath, anticipation coursing through my veins. What could he possibly need to tell me at a time like this?

But before he could utter another word, the nurse interrupted. She adjusted the IV drip, checked his bandages, and offered a few reassuring words before excusing herself.

Alone once more, the weight of Alexander's unspoken confession hung heavy in the air between us. "What is it, Alexander?" I asked.

He hesitated, his gaze searching mine for a long, silent moment. And then, finally, he spoke, his words laden with a gravity that sent a chill down my spine.

"I need to tell you about my family," he began, his voice tinged with sorrow and regret. "About the things they've done, the darkness they're capable of. And about the role I've played in it all."

My heart clenched at his words, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of my stomach. Whatever he was about to reveal, I knew it would change everything.