I'd peeked through the curtains every morning and evening since colliding with Twin B. Each time, my breath would stall until I deemed the coast clear. Robert said nothing. He thought I was insane. He'd become overbearing, always leering over my shoulder, analysing my every move. I couldn't take much more of it.

A pout had become permanently attached to my face. My appetite deserted me, motivation to clean, to do anything not too far behind. It was clear in the dishes that cascaded from the sink, the dirty laundry that spilled from the basket. Everything was a mess. My life. My home. My marriage. I wanted nothing more than to glue the pieces together, to salvage as much as I could from the wreckage. It was futile.

Robert and I argued more and more, silence filling the distance between us when the arguing had exhausted us both. Even Rover seemed quieter.

It was that Friday night when the last hanging fragments of my life severed completely. Robert and I had sat for dinner. I'd picked at the meat, using my fork to move food about, my stomach an uninviting host. There was no sound but the ticking of the clock and Rover lapping his water.

"I've quit my job."

It took a moment to absorb Robert's nonchalant statement.

"Why would you do that?"

My cutlery clanged against the plate. Any possibility that I might eat some morsel squashed in an instant. He shrugged, shovelling mashed potato into his mouth.

"Well, you didn't discuss this with me. This is something you tell your wife before doing!"

I watched his jaw flex as he chewed. Who chews mashed potato? His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, another forkful already at his lips.

"Well?"

His eyes narrowed as he lowered his fork, still piled with food.

"Well what? Why would I need to discuss it with you? Do you go out and do my work?"

My fingers clenched, eyes closed as I take a steadying breath. Here we go again.

"No Robert. I don't. That doesn't mean you don't discuss these things with me. How are we going to pay all of our bills now?"

His lack of care and respect threatened to boil the already steaming pot of anger I'd been brewing. The absolute swine! He had no consideration for anyone but himself, and I was sick of it. My part-time job barely covered our council tax bill and monthly food shop allowance. It was impossible for me to pay our mortgage, never mind every other bill on the minimum wage I received.

I hated to admit it, but Robert was the sole reason we had stayed afloat financially through the years.

"You'll have to get another job, won't you?"

"Another job? Please tell me this is a joke! What on earth has brought this on?"

He stood, empty plate in hand, without looking at me. In the two steps it took for him to fumble around on the counter for a clear spot to lay his plate, I had already thrown my chair back and stood myself. I would not let him ignore me again. Not when our livelihood depended heavily on his work.

"Robert William Collins, I'm talking to you!"

I knew my mistake as soon as the words spilled past my lips.

He flew around, eyes bloodshot and wide. I took an instinctive step back; the fridge blocking any escape route. The plate smashed into my face before I had time to react. Gravy oozed onto my blouse, stinging at the cut I knew was above my eyebrow.

"What have I told you about the way you speak to me? Show me some god damned respect or keep that mouth shut!"

I whimpered and winced, trying to clean the brown gunk from my face. The plate, somehow not broken, lay at my feet. I wanted to clean it. For the first time in days, the thought of mess and dirt sent shivers down my spine, but the thought of being on my knees in front of Robert was unbearable.

He was inches from me. The scent of sage and juniper that I had once loved had become so toxic it made me want to vomit. I shook, flush against the fridge as he leant closer. The pulsating vein at his temple came alive, his face red around it. He stole my breath from me, his hands a noose about my throat.

I could see the stars, could hear Naomi giggle and call for me. I was coming for her. Mother and daughter reunited, both torn from the world by the man they loved unconditionally.

A single tear cleared a pathway on my gravy stained face. If I was going to die, at least I would die having lived a full life, I told myself. At least I would die having done what I wanted to in life.

I summoned a prayer, seeking forgiveness as Robert's face blurred; my hand that clutched at his, struggling to keep its grip.

Rapping at the front door alerted a sleeping Rover. His barks ripped the claws from around my throat.

"Clean this mess. It's a pigsty in here."

I gasped and coughed, my legs giving out from beneath me. Rover bounded over, licking my face with his unquenchable hunger. Our neighbour, Sally's, voice floated through the house. Thank god for neighbours who run low on sugar when shops are closed. I listened as Robert excused himself and shut the door before stomping back towards me. Through my eyelashes, I watched him hunt the cupboard next to our oven for a tupperware container to put some sugar in.

He said nothing. Didn't so much as look my way.

Sally's voice was cheery and high pitched as she thanked him and sent her love for me. The one time I needed her to be her persistent nosey self, she failed me. I wanted to scream out, to beg for her help, but fear stole the words before they formed. I could do nothing but listen to the deafening clink as my only hope of salvation walked across the lawn to the safety of their own home.

"I'm going to bed. You can sleep on the couch tonight. I'm sick of the sight of you."

I remained silent and obedient. Unmoving until the bedroom slammed shut. The invisible ropes that bound my body loosened only when the house stopped shaking.

It was only then that I let my body weep. I curled on my side, legs pulled into my chest, and waited until the storm passed.

I hurt all over, my body weak, unable to hold itself up. It had taken far longer to clean the mess than I would have liked, my senses working overdrive searching for any sign of Robert coming for us. I crawled into the living room, too weak to pull myself onto the sofa. I resigned to the floor, just about managing to pulling a throw and pillow for some form of comfort.

—————-

Robert was gone when I awoke, one eye swollen shut and throbbing. My body screamed as I cracked myself off the floor, joints stiff and angry. It was no good trying to convince Robert to find another job. I had no choice but to speak to my manager, to beg for extra hours.

"Hi Claire, it's me. Sorry to ring you so early on a Saturday. No. No, I understand. I won't keep you too long. I was just wondering. Is it possible to change my hours at work? No, I don't need to do that. Robert's been made redundant, and the hours I do at the moment won't cover our bills."

"I'm so sorry honey, I don't think we'll be able to. We've just taken on another person. Let me see what I can do, but I can't promise anything."

I swallowed back the tears. I knew Claire would do her best, but if she thought it unlikely there would be extra hours for me, I had little faith.

"Thanks Claire. I appreciate it."

The phone clicked as she hung up. I threw my head back against the sofa, not quite ready to throw in the towel. I needed to find something. I couldn't lose this house. I'd be damned if Robert took my home from me as well.

Easing myself up, using the arm of the sofa as leverage, I limped towards the conservatory, grabbing my laptop on the way through. I might not have been able to guarantee extra work, but I could at least search the internet for employers desperate for a middle-aged woman to join their team.

By lunch, I'd found only three jobs that I could do with my limited skills. I'd applied, reading my cover letters three times before hitting the submit button. A break was needed, the laptop screen hurting my one good eye. Rover still lay beneath the stairs, snoring loudly. I'd noticed he had become increasingly lethargic over the week, his old age finally catching up to him.

Robert still hadn't returned home at dinnertime. Nor had he contacted me asking for dinner to be kept aside like he normally would. Despite this, I made sure I kept a plate in the oven, not wanting to cause another argument, to cause further injury to my already sore body. I'd applied for a measly seven jobs through the day and felt the defeat sink deeper.

Still, seven was better than none. I just hoped one would respond soon, the fear of falling into debt hanging like a guillotine above my head. My phone buzzed, Robert's name on display.

I'm not going to be home tonight. Out with friends. Get the house tidy before I'm back.

I let out a sigh of relief. With Robert at his friends, though I suspected this friend was a female he'd found at whatever bar he'd stumbled out of, I could relax somewhat. I could sleep in my bed, a thought that caused my joints to sing.

Knowing he wouldn't return until at least the following afternoon, I whistled for Rover. I needed to feel safe for just one night. The dog opened one eye, stretched, yawned, and traipsed behind me.

His warmth cocooned me. With the house silent and Robert gone, I quickly fell asleep. For the first time in far too long, I dreamt of nothing. Just a peaceful sleep. If I only knew then what I know now. That night would be the last night I would sleep soundly. The last night I would be safe.