How She feels
880 Words
*Wicky*
Riverdale is alive!
I let that thought hover as I sit in his hideous, overbearing library. He’s alive. I’m not free. I’m not free to love Billy. I’m not free to even kiss him!
Why hasn’t Riverdale walked into the residence and announced his return? Because he wants to toy with me, the bastard. He no doubt blames me for what he suffered. As much as I wish Evangeline hadn’t taken such drastic measures to keep me safe, I also have to admit that I’m touched by my friend’s devotion. Angry, to be sure, disappointed that they thought they couldn’t trust me, but also touched.
Three years ago, I was too shy to stand up for myself, lacked confidence in my abilities. I even thought on occasion that perhaps I deserved the rough treatment. But now I understand that Riverdale had no right to pommel his fists into me, no right to treat me badly. That he thinks he can return and begin to torment me anew is not to be tolerated.
I consider packing my things and taking Ethan someplace where we’ll both be safe, but I don’t like the way it makes me feel to avoid the confrontation that I’m certain will be happening very soon. So I’ve had his governess take him to a cousin’s for a few days. I’ve given the servants the night off. With the doors to the library open onto the terrace, I watch as evening falls, all the while feeling as though I’m being watched.
Sooner or later he will face me, I’m certain of it. He can have his place in Pack Society back. But he cannot have his place back in my life. Although it would create enormous scandal, I will divorce him. Or more precisely, have him divorce me for a******y. I will admit to sleeping with Billy Grimley. My butler can testify that he possessed a key so he could come and go as he pleased. I suspect Billy would confess to the wrongdoing as well. After all, he owes me.
But regardless, I am not going to stay in this marriage.
During Riverdale’s time away, I’ve come into my own. I manage the household here in Blackrock city and at the pack lands, and I manage them well. I’ve put together the means to raise money for a hospital. I’ve spoken with architects and builders and a physician in order to discover all that is needed. They’ve talked with me, offered advice, taken my suggestions. I no longer feel small or insignificant. I am confident I can manage my own affairs. I’ve been doing quite nicely for three years.
Thanks to Billy Grimley, who has shown me how it should be between a man and a she-wolf. Even before his recent interest, when I was recovering, and had first suggested the notion for a hospital, he embraced it and never questioned my ability to carry it off. He treats me with respect and values me.
I cannot go back to flinching every time my husband speaks, to cowering when he comes near, to expecting to receive a blow.
While it occurs to me that things might go better if I had all my friends surrounding me, I need to take care of this matter on my own. They’ve already put their lives and reputations at risk. My anger at them is dissipating, leaving me overwhelmed with the realization that they would risk so much for me.
When it’s my battle to fight.
*Bill*
I shouldn't be standing behind the hedgerows that line Wicky's back gardens; she despises me and doesn't want me near. But I can't force myself to stay away, not when there's a chance she might be hurt, that her husband might be lurking in the shadows.
Whatever made any of us think our plan would be a permanent solution to Wicky's problem? Why did we all agree to it without consulting her? Why did I take a role in it? Because, examining her bloody, battered, and smashed body, I believed, truly believed, that no one should be mistreated as she had been. She had been so small, delicate, and fragile that it never occurred to me she would be capable of taking care of herself. Shame on me for not seeing three years ago that all she needed was to develop the confidence to stand up for herself. She was so determined this morning to brush us off, to make it on her own.
But making it on her own, taking care of the matter, means facing her husband, and I can't allow her to face him alone. No matter how strong she thinks she is, she's not strong enough for that.
I saw the servants leaving earlier; I assumed her son has been taken elsewhere. No light escapes from any of the windows except the ones looking out from the library. She's preparing to meet the beast in his own lair. I wonder if Riverdale will respond to the invitation. Surely he has to know by now that she's aware he's returned.
I hear something rustling to my left. Hefting the cudgel I borrowed from Jay, I cautiously step forward and peer…
Pain shoots through the back of my skull.
Then nothing.
- Writer
