SAVE ME FROM MY HUSBAND

chapter four

I gazed into his cold, demanding eyes, struggling to comprehend the situation. Why was he instructing me to do this right now and right here, in front of him? I clenched my lips, attempting to speak but unable to form coherent sentences, so I shut my mouth. There was no way I could go through with this.

"Please, don't make me do this," I begged, but his gaze remained frigid, as if he could unleash hell itself by repeating his demand.

With hesitation, I reached for the dress strap, delicately peeling it away from my skin while averting my gaze, determined not to cry, at least not in his presence.

The dress fell to the floor, exposing my naked body to his ravenous eyes. I could sense his hungry gaze tracing every curve as he approached, fully closing the gap between us.

His hand traced a slow path from my neck to my chest as I bit my lower lip, trying to hide the tears welling in my eyes.

This situation felt painfully familiar, his hands touching my body, making me remember agonizing memories I desperately wished to forget.

His hands moved from my shoulders, trailing past my chest, and his fingers delicately brushed over my n*****s, causing me to shiver with fear as I glanced down.

His hands continued down to my waist, covering it in his large palms before forcefully pulling me closer, my breasts colliding with his firm chest. I swallowed nervously, not wanting this, not again, especially not at the hands of my husband.

My trembling hands betrayed my fear as I desperately tried to regain control. I knew I needed to escape this situation in any way possible, but hope seemed distant.

"Raise your head," he commanded, and I bit my lip even harder, struggling to hold back the tears. I didn't want to raise my head, didn't want him to witness my vulnerability, so I kept it lowered.

"Raise your head," he repeated, his tone firmer this time. I clenched my fists and swallowed hard before reluctantly meeting his gaze. The tears I'd been trying to suppress now streamed freely down my cheeks, and confusion clouded his expression.

"Are you crying?" he asked, confusion in his tone, and I turned my gaze away, silently scolding myself for allowing my emotions to overtake me, especially in his presence.

Without another word, he stepped away from me, leaving me to breathe. Perhaps I shouldn't have shown such vulnerability. What if he punished me because I couldn't fulfill his desires? What if there were repercussions for my weakness when I could have simply given him what he wanted?what if....what if he hits me?

I tried to speak, but my voice failed me, and he continued to fix his eyes on me, making me uncomfortable in my exposed state. He stood there, silent, further intensifying my anxiety.

Without a word, he turned his back and left the room, and I let out a sigh of relief. I was grateful not to have to endure that again, not at the hands of yet another man. I knew s*x was inevitable between a married man and a woman, but if I had a choice, I wouldn't willingly go through it again.

I sat on the bed and broke into tears, overwhelmed by the fact that my life had been a mess from the day I was born. Even my birth mother had rejected me, leaving me with little hope for acceptance from anyone else.

I knew it was only a matter of time before my husband would attempt to force himself on me, and I was determined to prevent that. I refused to succumb to weakness and helplessness again; this time, I needed to stand up for myself and find a way to escape.

I couldn't bear the thought of becoming another man's plaything, a mere object of desire he could use as he pleased after a long day at work. I needed to do something bold, something daring, and then I knew I had to escape, regardless of the potential consequences.

I cried myself to sleep that night, still haunted by the memory of his hands on my skin. When I woke up the next morning, the pleasant sounds of clinking silverware and plates filled the air. Anything sounds better than the sound of curses from that nun's mouth every morning waking us up at the orphanage.

I grumbled in bed, slowly opening my eyes as my vision cleared. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and let out a yawn, stretching my arms into the air before sitting upright on the bed.

I surveyed the room, attempting to piece together what was happening. To my left, that Hernandez man sat on the sofa, engrossed in either a magazine or a newspaper, his cup of coffee by his side. His attention remained fixed on the paper, seemingly unaware of my waking state.

Turning to my right, I spotted the maids diligently arranging what appeared to be breakfast on a tray. The aroma of the food tantalized my senses, and my stomach rumbled in response.

Returning my focus to the man, I flinched in fear when our eyes met. It was clear that he was now looking at me, his eyes unapologetically fixed on me, making me uneasy under his scrutiny.

I swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words, but I couldn't find any at that moment, leaving me in silence, as usual.

The maids swiftly completed their tasks and left the room, paying no attention to either of us. Breakfast was now arranged on the table, and he rose from his seat, approaching me.

I instinctively pulled the duvet closer around me, removing my eyes from him, willing not to make eye contact with him. I could sense his presence and his eyes on me, but I didn't dare to meet his gaze; at that moment, I couldn't find any kind words to say to him, and he hardly deserved any nice words anyway.

"Go freshen up and have breakfast," he finally broke the prolonged silence. Summoning the courage, I looked into his eyes and nodded before turning my gaze away.

I noticed he extended something toward me, prompting me to glance back in his direction. To my surprise, I saw a book in his hand, surprise on my face as I raised my head to look at him, wondering about his intentions.

"I heard you liked books back at the orphanage," he mentioned, his voice calm. "I've acquired quite a collection, so if this one doesn't suit your taste, you might find something you like on that shelf over there to keep you entertained." He gestured toward a small bookshelf, which I hadn't noticed the day before; it must have been delivered that morning.

I was taken aback by this unexpected gesture, but I accepted the book he offered. I couldn't deny my love for reading, but what truly surprised me was his consideration in giving me a book at this moment.

He slid his hands into his pockets, announcing, "I'm heading to work now," and paused briefly before continuing, "You might be contemplating an escape, but I advise you to bury those thoughts. Don't give me a reason to cause you harm."

My heart skipped a beat when he mentioned my thoughts of escape, and fear quickly overcame me. How had he known? I hadn't given any clues, so how had he figured it out? Without saying another word, he left the room, leaving me to ponder his words.

Regardless of how he had discovered my intentions, i have made up my mind to escape. I refused to be a mere servant to any man.

Getting up from the bed, I approached the window for the first time and looked outside, taking in the breathtaking estate below. I could see that man was wealthy, even more healthy than I thought he was. The environment had water fountains and The surroundings were nothing short of luxurious. The estate sprawled out with beautiful gardens, lush green lawns, and colorful flower beds. Trees stood tall, providing shade and elegance to the land. In the distance, there might have been a glimpse of a pool or a perhaps a pond, adding to the overall grandeur. The whole estate was beautiful and classy.

I couldn't help but wonder why a man of his wealth would resort to buying a wife. He seemed to have what most women desired – physical attractiveness, sculpted looks, and considerable wealth. This realization left me even more uncomfortable, raising concerns about his true motives. What if he was a psychopath or a murderer, seeking someone he could control?

I had a flurry of thoughts racing through my mind about what he might be, which made me more determined to escape. I calculated the distance from my window to the ground and realized it wasn't too far, but I needed something to climb down with. The absence of anyone in sight reassured me that my escape would go unnoticed.

As I pondered, I cast a glance back into the room while nervously nibbling on my fingers. A solution struck me when I spotted the bed sheets. I quickly removed them from the bed, realizing they could serve as a makeshift rope, but they weren't long enough.

With my anxiety building, I scratched my head, desperately searching for an alternative. My gaze landed on the wardrobe, and I dashed toward it, discovering different clothing inside it. I knew I could use these items to make the rope longer by tying them to the sheets and so I got to work, tying everything together.

Once I was confident that the materials were long enough, I hid them under the bed, waiting for the right moment to make my escape. I couldn't run while it was still broad daylight; I had to use my time and wait for a change in the weather.

Lunch was served hours after breakfast, along with a couple of snacks, but my eagerness to escape led me to barely touch the food.

As the sun set and night came, I believed it was the perfect moment to make my escape. I reached for the pieces of clothing hidden under my bed. After a day of convincing myself that this was the only option, there was no turning back, no room for doubt.

Peaking out the window and looking at my surroundings, I marveled at how the estate had transformed, becoming even more beautiful in the night with various lights beautifying the garden. Just like earlier, no one was in sight.

With a nervous gulp, I tied the end of the makeshift rope to the bedpost, then carefully lowered the remaining pieces out the window. I watched as the rope fell and touched the ground, silently praying that no one would notice.

Despite the cold night and my short strapless dress being improper for the escape, I had no other choice. The stakes were too high for hesitation.

I had grown tired of living under the control of others, tired of everyone telling me what to do. With a deep breath, I summoned the courage for my escape.

Slowly, I climbed down from the window using the makeshift rope, silently praying that the fabric would hold and not give way. Remaining with my husband seemed like a safer choice than facing whatever lay ahead of death.

As I continued climbing down, my feet finally touched the ground. I hastily hid myself behind some bushes after hearing distant footsteps and murmurs from a group of men. My heart raced as I anxiously nibbled on my fingers and clasped them tightly, hoping to not be seen by them, as the consequences I believe would surely be dire.

After a few moment of silence, I cautiously came out from my hiding spot, relieved to find no one in sight. The estate gate appeared not too far from, yet it still felt so far. I sprinted towards it, not daring to look back.

Freedom was within my reach, and all I needed was to reach that gate. If a guard was guarding the gate, I would need to devise a way to distract him. Many options lay ahead, but my first priority was to get to the gate.

I heard footsteps behind me, causing me to stop abruptly. I swiftly turned around, but I couldn't see anyone . It dawned on me that fear might be playing tricks on my mind, conjuring hallucinations. I continued walking, determined not to look back regardless of what I heard.

As I neared the gates, there was no sign of any guards, and a wave of relief washed over me. Freedom was within my grasp; I was on the verge of escaping.

But fate had other plans. Suddenly, I felt powerful hands covering my mouth, while another pair encircled my waist, lifting me effortlessly off the ground. I screamed, but the hand over my mouth stifled the sound. I fought back, launching kicks in every direction, but my captor was stronger. He took me to a secluded part of the estate, where I saw Tristan sitting on a bench, smoking, while gazing at the sky.

My captor eventually released his grip, allowing me to stand on my own. I turned to face him, revealing a giant of a man with a stern expression.

Tristan finally shifted his attention toward us, gesturing for the man to leave, and without hesitation, he complied. My body quivered as I swallowed hard, Mr Hernandez current calm express terrified me.

In that moment, I deeply regretted ever considering an escape. I had no idea what this man might do to me. The unsettling vibes I got from him surpassed any fear I'd felt before. His eyes scrutinized my attire, and he spoke, his voice had a sinister tone.

"Were you planning to escape dressed like that?" I suddenly became aware of my appearance, wrapping my arms around myself as I turned my gaze away. I was wearing something that left too much skin exposed for comfort, but my desire to escape had overridden any concern for modesty.

"Mr. Hernandez, I..." I began to speak, but he cut me off.

"I told you not to do it. Why do you defy me?" He asked, and I had no response. He nodded, taking a drag from his cigarette before releasing a puff of smoke into the night air. "Pick up that hose and hold it over your head. Let the water cascade over you until I instruct you to stop."

My eyebrow arched in disbelief, hoping I had misunderstood his words. There was no way he could be serious. I pressed for clarity, "Could you repeat that, please?"

A wicked smirk crept across his face, and he replied with a chilling certainty, "Must I repeat myself, yet again?"

"Mr. Hernandez, what you're demanding is... it's excessive. The cold is biting out here, and I can't possibly..." I began, trying to reason, but he interrupted me.

"Mrs. Hernandez, you were ready to escape, dressed as you are. The cold would have been your enemy regardless. So why hesitate now? I'm genuinely intrigued to see how long you can lost under the cold. Do as I've instructed," he paused for a moment, his voice dripping with menace, and then ordered, "Now."

A nervous gulp escaped my lips as I grappled with the reality of the situation. I had once thought him merely a psychopath, but now it was abundantly clear—he was a sadist, relishing in the torment he could inflict.