Broken Piece

Chipped Piece

Callie had a hard time believing Davison was her mother's son. He was just so different from the sweet, mild mannered woman. He was mean and quick tempered, the opposite of the woman who had raised her.

The Davison was also different from the kind, curious, and patient son the woman had described to her on many occasions.

Callie was cleaning the condo again, for the second time that week. She was stressing herself out about making sure everything was neat and clean, because she did not and couldn't handle another tongue lashing from Davison.

She had to admit, she wasn't too good at cleaning. She never really had to clean her whole life, so yeah, she didn't know how to dust or how to wash dishes to they were spotless. She didn't move furniture to vacuum underneath at first or mop the kitchen floors after wiping off the counters, but that didn't mean he had to call her all sorts of names.

Everyday he would come home and inspect what she did, always finding something wrong. There was only one thing he seemed to not be able to find fault in, and that was her cooking. He never had a word to say about it and always ate what she cooked now. He didn't admit it, but she thought he probably liked her cooking.

She was cleaning the bathroom, Davison liked for the toilet to literally shine. She wiped at her forehead with the back of her hand as she surveyed her work, just as she heard the front door open. Her heart sank...he was home.

She cursed and sprung to her feet, she hadn't cooked dinner. She picked up her phone from the bathroom sink and discovered by what time it was, that he wasn't early, she had just spent too much time cleaning.

She just stood there, not moving for a while, just staring at the suds at the bottom of the sink. Hearing his footsteps moving towards her location, she quickly sprung forward, swinging the bathroom door closed and locking it. She leaned against the door heavily. She could hear him stop on the other side.

"Callie, open the door." His voice was even, not even angry. But she wasn't fooled. She knew he knew how to cut with his words. "Open the damn door!" He said again when she didn't answer.

"Just go on, leave me alone, Davison!" She spoke shakily. "I'll dial 911 if you don't."

He was quiet for a moment. "What did you say? You're going to phone the cops?" She bit her lip at the anger creeping in his voice. "You're going to say what? I haven't done a thing to you, yet. You're going to say you're afraid of my words?" She swallowed hard. She knew she had reason to be afraid of Davison, despite his most recent form of abuse being his words. "They won't do anything to me for that, Callie. You'll just end up right back here and then I'll really make you really afraid, Callie! I will!"

She was crying now. How did her life end up like this? "Leave me alone, Davison! Mom...Your mom wouldn't be happy about this! How you're treating me!" His fist hit the door making her jump back, but she didn't back down. "She would hate seeing you be exactly like your father!"

After that there was silence, long, frightening silence. Then, she could here him storm away, for a breath she thought he had a key and was going to get her, but then she heard things being thrown around and broken outside the room. She could also make out his curses.

She sunk to the floor, silent tears racing down her face.

(BP)

She didn't dare leave the bathroom until everything was quiet. She cracked open the door hours later and instantly regretted it upon finding Davison sitting against the opposite wall, looking empty eyed with his arms hanging over his legs.

She was about to shut the door and lock it again but stopped when she realized he wasn't making a move to attack her. He looked like he couldn't get up even if he wanted too.

"I have reason to hate you, you know." He spoke, eyes not quite focusing on her. "You deserve this...I'm nothing like him."

Callie didn't know what to say. All she wanted was to escape to her bedroom and not come out until she was sure he was gone. "No one deserves this," she finally said.

"You do," he didn't miss a beat. She couldn't understand what he thought she had done.

"I loved... Suzanne... I don't understand exactly what it is you think I did." Her hand tightened on the door knob.

He scoffed and looked down. "What's wrong with you people and the truth?"

She didn't know what that meant. "Ca-an I go to bed now?"

"I still haven't' had my dinner." He rose to his feet, making her take a step back, ready and willing to slam the door shut if need be. "Do I have to say it twice?"

She decided he didn't and slid carefully by him, careful not to get to close as she headed towards the kitchen. Like that other time, he watched her cook, his face blank, his eyes blanker.

"Your mom taught me how to cook." It hurt her to say 'your' mom instead of 'our' mom, but she didn't feel like making him angry. "Did you know that?" She tried to reach him, maybe there was good in him but she needed to bring up their shared love to get there. Maybe their mom had told him how she was teaching her how to cook.

"No...but the taste is almost the same." He admitted in a slightly angry voice. She glanced back at him quickly. He was playing with a napkin holder, rolling it between his hand and the table, he didn't seem angry. He looked back up at her and she quickly looked away.

She bit her lip. "About school..." she began. He hadn't allowed her to leave the house to attend her classes and she really missed them. She missed leaving the condo period.

"Are you really bringing that up after the stunt earlier?" He snapped.

"Never mind," she said quietly. "I'm...running out of things to cook. I think I'll have to go to the store soon." She said hoping this would be her opening to finally leave the house.

"We'll go after I get off work tomorrow." He dashed her hopes of escaping him even for a couple of hours with those words.

"Can I go visit my dad?" She tried another approach.

"Your dad doesn't give a s**t, Callie." He said coldly. She knew that already, but it still hurt to hear it.

"Still... I love him anyway." She said honestly. Davison was quiet, so quiet she turned a little, worried he was creeping up on her to strangle her or something. He was staring off into space, like he hadn't even heard her. "You love your dad despite everything, right?"

"Don't pretend to know a thing about me, Callie." He said dully. She closed her mouth and sat a plate before him. When he said nothing else, she turned away and started to clean the kitchen.

(BP)

It had been about a week and a half since she had been outside the condo, so she was quite excited about the trip to the grocery store. Like he had said, Davison returned home from work and told her to hurry her ass up or she would have to wait until a later time.

She had quickly dressed and met him at the front door, smiling the idea of finally being outside. He had sneered at her expression. She didn't care though.

When they were down at the parking garage, he had looked her up and down. "You couldn't have found something else to where?" He grimaced.

She had looked down at herself, trying to see what was wrong with her shorts and tank top. "What's wrong with my clothes?" She had a feeling she wouldn't want to hear what he had to say.

"You don't have the body for shorts." He said bluntly. "Your thighs look  grotesque and you have stretch marks on your arms." Callie bit her lip hard, that stung. It stung bad. "You need to cover up the offending parts of you...well, everything that can be covered up." He lectured, not even looking at her as they moved towards his car.

Callie halted. "I-I can go change." The shame she felt was horrible. She had never had a very good self body image.

"Forget it, I don't have time for that. My friends are coming over and you need to cook for us. Come on."

She frowned at that, but most of her thoughts still centered around his description of her looks.

Grocery shopping was an unpleasant experience, half the time she was pulling at her shorts, wanting to make them longer, the other, Davison was pulling her around and not allowing her out of his sight. Davison was a good looking man and it seemed like every single woman in the store wanted to flirt with him and did so right in her face, and worse yet, he flirted right back. He even exchanged phone numbers with some long legged red head.

She guessed she couldn't complain, their marriage was a sham, but it was still humiliating. It was quite clear that Davison had no respect for her.

As soon as they returned to the condo she went to her room and changed out of the shorts and tank top and into a pair of loose jeans and a t shirt. She then returned to the kitchen and began putting things away and prepping food for Davison's get together.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Davison sitting on the couch face in his phone. She was happy his attention wasn't on her.

She was almost finished cooking when Davison's friends showed up. They were the two from the court house. Anderson and Peter, she remembered we're their names.

"Callie!" Davison called her from the living room, making her sigh. She stopped putting together the sliders she was currently working on and poked her head into the living room.

"Yes, Davison?"

"Callie!" Peter greeted with a nod, making her nod back with a small smile.

"How are you?" Anderson smile was as kind as they first time they met. "It's not too bad being Mrs. Cane, is it? We all know this one can be a pain in the ass." He motioned towards Davison with his head.

Callie's smile became more forced as she shrugged. "Its...fine." She really did try being more convincing, but it just came out the way it did.

Peter and Anderson shared a look before they both started laughing. "You don't sound very convincing, Callie." Anderson said.

"What's wrong, Davison, not satisfying your new wife?" Peter questioned with a teasing smile. "I heard good intimacy is key for a healthy marriage."

Callie was diffidently uncomfortable now, she glanced nervously at Davison who seemed unbothered. It was obvious Peter was joking, but still, who knew how he would take it. "Come here, Callie." He said, picking up his beer from the coffee table and taking a swig. Callie hesitated, not quite understand why he wanted her to come closer and also not wanting too. A look of annoyance flashed across his face but was gone quickly. 'Don't embarrasses me' he had told her in the car on the way back from the store. "Come. Here." He gritted out. Callie glanced at Peter and Anderson, their smiles were gone.

Callie decided to do as told, not wanting to have any problems later. As she approached the couch, Davison grabbed her wrist and pulled her down, his lips landing on top of hers. She was too shocked to move or do anything as he parted her lips with his tongue and placed it into her mouth.

It was a hungry kiss, a hard kiss...maybe it was even passionate, but not in a romantic sense. When Davison pulled away and let go of her wrist, she realized that her lips were aching, and her wrist was throbbing.

"My wife and I's intimacy is just fine." He spoke to their audience, but his eyes were locked on her and he licked his lips. She wondered did she look as confused, flustered, and upset as she felt. She took a step back from him and rubbed her wrist thoughtlessly. "Bring us some more drinks, will you?" He asked. His face was indifferent, but his eyes had an unusual glint to them. That glint worried her.

Callie nodded. "Yeah, sure." She said quickly. She didn't dare look at the other two men in the room.

The three friends spent most of the night watching a game, laughing, joking with each other, and drinking. Well, Anderson wasn't drinking, something about being the driver. She spent most of the night giving them food and drinks and avoiding Davison's hot glare.

He seemed angry and she couldn't comprehend why. He had been the one to kiss her without permission. She hadn't embarrassed him as far as she knew, and she worked her ass off cooking for he and his friends.

"Nice seeing you again, Callie." She looked up from where she was mindlessly wiping off the kitchen counter to see Anderson in the opening. "We're about to go, I gotta get this drunk home. Do you...think you can handle the other one?" His question was framed like he was joking, but there was something serious in his eyes as well. Callie swallowed, she had never had to put up with a drunk Davison before, so she wasn't sure, but she nodded anyway. Anderson shot her a quick smile. "Well...great. The food was great, thank you."

"No problem, Anderson. Thank you for the compliment." Callie was truly pleased. It had been a long time since she had gotten a compliment.

"Stop flirting with my wife, Anderson." Davison stumbled inside, leaning against the wall heavily next to Anderson. His tone was joking but his face wasn't. "And get Peter the hell out of my house before he throws his s**t up everywhere! You know he can't hold s**t, he should have been the driver."

"I just didn't feel like drinking tonight, Dee. And as for flirting with your wife? I was just complimenting her wonderful cooking skills."

"Sure," Davison snorted before stumbling back out of the kitchen. Anderson glanced back at her and shrugged.

"See you around, Callie."

Callie brought her hand up in a weak wave. "see you," she called out quietly.

After a few more minutes Peter and Anderson actually did leave. Callie took her time cleaning the kitchen, knowing she would have to do the living room next and that Davison was still sitting on the couch, head thrown back and eyes closed. She didn't think he was really asleep or at the very least not heavily asleep.

Eventually, she had no other choice and moved into the living room to clean up the beer bottles and shot glasses.

"Anderson is more your type, huh?" He slurred as he opened his eyes and reached for the beer she was just about to throw away. "The nice pretty boy s**t he got going on? He was born rich too, like you." He pointed the top of the beer bottle at her before taking a sip of the likely warm drink.

Callie watched him, setting the trash bag she had onto the floor. "I...I don't know..." He held up his hand.

"Doesn't matter," he flopped back onto the back of the couch and sighed, "you're mine, so you can pine after him all you want, but he can't have you. And you better not even dream of giving yourself to him."

Callie felt tears spring to her eyes. How much longer could she live like this? "Okay, Davison, what do you want me to say? Why are you saying this to me?" She knew he wanted her to suffer, but why even bring up a none existent affair with his friend when he doesn't give a damn about her. Yeah, they're married. But this wasn't a real marriage. Just her pretty much being his slave.

"Lettin you know, Cals, letting you know."

She didn't feel like have this conversation was worth it, especially since he was drunk and not exactly an easy one to talk too while sober. She started cleaning up again, hoping to ignore him.

"You ignoring me, Cals?" She bit her lip and kept cleaning. "Nothing to say?" She stacked the plates on the table together, about to take them to the kitchen. "Come sit next to me." She paused for a brief movement but went back to cleaning. "Now, Callie!" He snapped.

Callie sat the stacked shot glasses back on the table and made her way over to Davison, refusing to look at him as she sat down on the couch. She played with her fingers nervously in her lap. "I need to finish cleaning, Davison."

"Just shut up and sit here." He groaned. "God I hate you." He ran a hand through his hair.

"Then why marry me?" She questioned after quickly licking her lips. "Seems like self torture to marry someone you hate."

He was quiet for a moment, prompting her to look at him. He was still leaning back into the couch, his eyes closed now. "Maybe that's what this is..." He said so quietly she almost missed it.