Broken Piece

Shaken Piece

She had been married for two weeks now, and things were going as well as to be expected. Davison had a Condo down town and that was to be her new home, but it felt nothing like a home. Not her home anyway.

It started the same day as her wedding, he had told her she could only bring one suitcase worth of things because he didn't want her cluttering up his home. Though pissed, Callie didn't have a huge problem with not bringing her whole closet. Callie wasn't one to put a lot of value into possessions such as clothes and shoes, so parting with those things meant nothing to her. So, if he thought he hurt her with his insane demand, he was wrong, and she took comfort in that.

Callie was convinced he hated her, so she couldn't comprehend why he wanted to marry her. Was it really because he felt guilty about ignoring his mother for all of those years? Then how was treating her like crap suppose to make up for that? Callie simply couldn't understand it.

Davison's condo was large and modern, he had expensive furniture and high tech add-ons. She honestly had liked it at first glance, it was nice and not as cold and unwelcoming as the owner. It was a little bland and lacked personal items and touches.

She hadn't remembered that married people were expected to share the same room and obviously one bed, only when he had pushed open the door to a guest room and ordered her to unpack. He then began to verbalize his rules. No eating in the bedrooms. No going into his bedroom. Do not mess up any of his stuff. She was to cook meals and clean. No friends over. No loud music. No going into his office.

She had challenged him on every single one of those, just on principle alone. His response had been a dirty look, clipped words about obeying him, and his vanishing from the room. She had honestly not followed him yelling what was on her mind because he literally looked like he wanted to strangle her.

She had unpacked that night, putting her belongings in the dresser and her favorite picture on the top of it. Her lack of items meant it hadn't taken long. She had just crawled onto the king sized bed in the room when her phone buzzed with a text. 'Cook dinner. Don't forget' It was from an unsaved number, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who it was from.

With nothing else to do, she had relented on the command, she pretended was a request, and dragged herself into the kitchen. She knew how to cook much better than she knew how to clean, after all she and her mom had taught her how to cook but they both had decided to leave the cleaning to the workers.

A smile had come to her face as she prepared a meal of chicken and vegetables, as she thought of she and her mother laughing in the kitchen back home. Thinking of the woman both saddened and eased her a little, it was the main reason she ended up waiting for Davison to return from wherever he had gone and not eat until he was back. Maybe they could put some of the hostility behind them, but he hadn't come, and he didn't eat a thing she had cooked.

It had been two weeks and she hadn't seen much of Davison, but he always had a dirty look and mean word just for her. It was almost as if she wasn't married at all.

"Where have you been?" She diffidently wasn't expecting Davison to be home or sitting in the dark like some mad man. She had flinched in surprise and quickly flipped on the living room light, revealing the man sitting on his expensive Italian leather couch with his tie loosened.

"Why are you sitting in the dark like a crazy person?" She questioned instead of answering his question. She took off her bag and set it on a chair, it was heavy with text books. She had a couple exams coming up and she planned on studying quite a bit over the weekend. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she did this.

"Why isn't dinner cooked? And I'll ask you one more time, where have you been?" He seemed so angry and she couldn't understand it.

She frowned at him and pursed her lips. "I was at class, Davison." She through her hands up. "And as for dinner? Seriously, I've been cooking every night for the past two weeks and not once have you even tasted anything!" He didn't even come home until after she had cleaned up the kitchen and retried to her bedroom.

"It was a rule." He stood, gaze locked on her.

Callie rolled her eyes. "Look, Davison, I went along with your asinine rules but there's no way you actually expect me to follow them. I am not a child, Davison. You cannot give me 'rules'!"

He laughed without humor. "Class, this late at night?" He scoffed. She held back telling him she was actually at the library, because she didn't feel as if she had to explain herself. "And as for the rules, you will follow them or face the consequences!"

Callie rolled her eyes again, fed up with all of it. "Look, why are you doing this? Really?? Is it because you feel bad about mom? I mea-"

He was in front of her in seconds, gripping her arms in an iron like hold. His eyes blazed as he shook her three times hard, making her gasp. "Do not call her that!" He yelled at her. "You have no right to call her mom!"

Callie was afraid, it was a pure and as simple as that. She felt as if anyone could see the look in his eyes, they would be afraid too. "Let me go..." She said in a shaky voice as she tried to get her arms out of his bruising hold. It hurt so bad. His hold wasn't budging.

After staring at her for a long time, so long Callie wanted to shut her eyes instead of looking into his empty blue ones, he let go of one of her arms but kept a strong hold on the other as he pulled her towards the kitchen.

Once inside he pushed her against the counter before letting her go. "Cook!" He barked making her flinch. She was to slow to do anything, he grabbed her arm, right where his bruising hold had been before, making her wince. He pulled her against him, his lips right next to her ear. "Do not break this rule again, Callie!" He let her go again much to her relief. He glared at her. "What? Nothing to say?"

Callie stared back at the insane man, her eyes flickering to the doorway. He raised an eyebrow in response. "Why are you doing this?" She found herself asking again, voice much weaker than she would have liked.

"Cook, Callie," he shook his head at her like she was stupid, "now."

Not wanting him to put his hands on her again, Callie turned and shakily moved over to the refrigerator. As she looked inside for something to cook, she could feel his gaze on her. It made her fumble and drop things as she removed them from the refrigerator.

He sat at the breakfast table the whole time she cooked, intimidating her with his stare. When she was done cooking the pasta and French bread, she just stood over the stove, not wanting to look and speak to the man.

"I'm done." She finally said, wanting to retreat to her room and think.

"Serve me."

She rubbed her hands together and bit back a frustrated yell. She removed a plate from the cabinet, closing the door loudly before beginning to fix Davison's plate. She sat it down roughly before him on the table and stiffened when he grabbed her wrist.

She looked at him, finding his eyes narrowed. "Get me some water too." She yanked her arm back before going to do as he said. "Never leave the house unless I give you permission first." He said once the glass of cold water was placed beside his plate. He was staring at his plate which he had just taken a bit out of with an annoyed frown.

Callie's mouth fell open. "What?" Did he really just tell her she couldn't go outside without his permission? "Are you insane?" She truly meant it.

He took another bite of the male she had cooked and chewed slowly. "I am not joking, Callie."

"I didn't say you were joking! Look, I'm done with this. I don't care what my dad does to me, this is crazy! I can't believe I went through with this. I'm getting the hell out of here and away from your crazy ass. I want a divorce!" She shouted. She turned on her heels, meaning to quickly leave the room, return to hers and pack her bags. She would just have to beg her dad to behave like a father for once, just until she was able to stand on her own two feet.

The was almost out of the kitchen when a glass shattered against the wall next to her head, a couple of the shards bouncing off her skin. She found herself gasping for the second time that day as she quickly swirled around to face the man only for her to close her eyes as she was slammed against the wall just assaulted by said glass.

Her back stung and her heart sunk down to her stomach. She didn't dare open her eyes to see the cold blue one staring hatefully down at her.

"Did you not hear a word I just said to you? Are you too stupid to comprehend? You're not going anywhere without my permission!" His large hand was wrapped around her chin in a tight, painful hold. "You are my wife now. Mine. Your father? You think you can go back to him? You think he gives a damn? He'll send you right back here and you don't want to see what I'll do to you when he does!"

Callie trembled.

"Do you understand me?" He hit the wall next to her head, making her flinch. She quickly nodded. She felt him release her chin, but she still didn't move. "Now, go to your room." He said calmer. The mood swing scared her even more.

She finally opened her eyes. He was back at the table, standing over his plate.

"W-Why are you doing this to me?" She asked despite everything in her commanding her to flee the room.

His back stiffened and he looked at her over his shoulder. "You should be glad I don't do worse after how you treated my mother, Callie Cane." He used her new name as he answered the question she didn't think he would.

Callie frowned, fingers going to ball up against the fabric of her t shirt. "What do you mean? How I treated mom? I-"

"I told you not to call her that anymore!" He snapped, making her mouth slam shut. "Go to your room."