Chapter 2 - I Took Her With Me
Marcus moved first.
He stepped around me and reached for Rachel.
I planted myself between them.
“No.”
“Mom, move.”
“No.”
His face turned red.
“You don’t understand what she’s telling you.”
“I understand enough.”
Rachel’s fingers were gripping the back of my sweater.
Marcus pointed toward her.
“She’s emotional.”
I almost laughed.
Of course.
Emotional.
Another word from his father.
Rachel whispered, “I want to leave.”
Marcus went silent.
For the first time, she had said it clearly.
Not to me.
To him.
“I want to leave this house.”
His expression changed.
“Rachel.”
“No.”
Her voice trembled, but she repeated it.
“I’m leaving.”
Marcus stepped toward her again.
I lifted my phone.
“I will call the police.”
His eyes snapped toward me.
“You would call the police on your own son?”
“If my own son gives me a reason.”
That landed harder than I expected.
He stared at me as though I had betrayed him.
Maybe in his mind, blood was supposed to protect him from consequences.
I knew exactly where he had learned that.
“Mom,” he said quietly, “put your phone away.”
“No.”
“Rachel and I had an argument.”
“She has fingerprints on her arm.”
“She bruises easily.”
Rachel made a sound behind me.
Marcus looked toward her.
I blocked his view.
“Stop looking at her like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like she owes you the answer you want.”
His jaw flexed.
I turned to Rachel.
“Do you need anything from upstairs?”
She looked terrified.
“My purse.”
“Where?”
“Bedroom.”
“I’ll get it.”
“No.”
Marcus’s voice cut through the room.
“That’s my bedroom.”
I stared at him.
“It’s hers too.”
I walked upstairs.
He followed.
So did Rachel.
Every step felt dangerous, not because Marcus had touched me, but because I could feel his anger building.
Their bedroom was immaculate.
Too immaculate.
Rachel pointed toward the nightstand.
“My purse.”
I picked it up.
Then she looked toward the closet.
“Passport.”
Marcus laughed sharply.
“What, you’re moving out now?”
Rachel flinched.
I opened the closet.
“Where is it?”
“Blue box.”
Marcus stepped into the doorway.
“That box contains our documents.”
Rachel’s face tightened.
“My passport is mine.”
“And what are you planning to do with it?”
I turned.
“That is none of your business tonight.”
“I’m her husband.”
“You keep saying that like it means owner.”
He slammed his palm against the doorframe.
Rachel jumped.
I didn’t.
At least not where he could see.
“Marcus.”
“What?”
“Move away from the door.”
“This is my house.”
“Move.”
He stared at me.
Then Rachel whispered, “He keeps my bank card too.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
Marcus’s face changed.
“She loses things.”
Rachel shook her head.
“You took it.”
“For bills.”
“You changed the PIN.”
He looked furious now.
I felt something inside me harden.
“Where is her bank card?”
“Mom, stay out of our finances.”
“Where?”
Rachel pointed toward his dresser.
Marcus moved faster than I expected.
He crossed the room and stood in front of it.
“No.”
That one word told me everything.
I raised my phone.
“I’m calling.”
He swore.
“Fine!”
He yanked open a drawer and threw a wallet onto the bed.
Rachel picked it up.
Inside were her driver’s license and bank card.
She stared at them like someone had returned pieces of her identity.
I swallowed hard.
“What else?”
“My phone.”
Marcus laughed.
“It’s downstairs.”
“No.”
Rachel shook her head.
“My old phone.”
He froze.
I noticed.
“What old phone?”
Rachel looked at me.
“The one he broke.”
Marcus stepped forward.
“She dropped it.”
Rachel’s voice suddenly rose.
“No, I didn’t!”
Silence.
She seemed startled by her own volume.
Then she continued.
“You threw it against the wall because I called my sister.”
Marcus stared at her.
Rachel kept speaking.
“You said I was embarrassing you.”
His face hardened.
“Rachel.”
“You broke it.”
She was crying, but she didn’t stop.
“And then you told me I didn’t need another one until I learned who came first.”
I felt sick.
“How long ago?”
“Four months.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
Marcus answered for her.
“Because that’s not what happened.”
I ignored him.
Rachel looked down.
“He apologized.”
That sentence hurt.
Not because I blamed her.
Because I remembered saying it.
He apologized.
He promised.
He was stressed.
He didn’t mean it.
Marcus walked toward her.
“Tell her the whole story.”
I moved between them again.
“She will tell me whatever she wants when you are not standing over her.”
His face twisted.
“You’ve poisoned her in twenty minutes.”
“No.”
Rachel’s voice surprised both of us.
Marcus looked at her.
She swallowed.
“You didn’t need her help for that.”
He stared.
Rachel’s hands shook, but she lifted her chin.
“You did it yourself.”
For one second, pride pushed through my fear.
Then Marcus lunged for the purse.
Rachel screamed.
I shoved myself between them.
He stopped inches from me.
Not because I was stronger.
Because some remaining part of him understood what crossing that line would mean.
I held up my phone.
“Leave the room.”
He breathed heavily.
“Get out.”
“We are.”
I took Rachel’s hand.
We walked downstairs.
Marcus followed several feet behind.
At the front door, Rachel paused.
Her whole body trembled.
Marcus saw it.
His voice changed.
Soft.
Almost tender.
“Baby.”
She closed her eyes.
I knew that voice too.
Raymond used it after every frightening night.
“Rachel,” Marcus said, “don’t do this.”
She looked over her shoulder.
“You told me you’d take my child.”
“I was angry.”
“You said you’d tell everyone I was unstable.”
“I didn’t mean it.”
“You said your lawyer would destroy me.”
“I was upset.”
Rachel’s hand tightened around mine.
Then Marcus did what men like him always do when apologies stop working.
His face hardened again.
“If you walk out that door, don’t come back.”
Rachel looked at him.
Something changed.
A tiny piece of fear became anger.
“Okay.”
She opened the door.
We walked outside.
Marcus followed us onto the porch.
“You think my mother is going to save you?”
Rachel stopped.
I wanted her to keep walking.
Instead, she turned around.
“No.”
Her voice was still trembling.
“I think she reminded me I’m allowed to save myself.”
We got into my car.
Marcus stood in the driveway watching us.
I locked the doors.
Rachel exhaled for what felt like the first time in an hour.
Then she began sobbing.
Not quietly.
Not politely.
Her whole body folded.
I reached for her.
This time, she came willingly.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“For making you choose.”
I pulled back.
“Choose?”
“Between me and your son.”
I touched her face.
“Rachel, listen carefully.”
She looked at me.
“I am not choosing between two people.”
My voice cracked.
“I am choosing between protecting someone who is being hurt and protecting the person hurting her.”
Her tears fell harder.
“There is only one right choice.”
We drove to my house.
Halfway there, Rachel suddenly grabbed my arm.
“I need to show you something.”
She reached into her purse.
From a hidden pocket, she removed a tiny memory card.
“What is that?”
Her face went pale.
“Proof.”
My stomach tightened.
“Proof of what?”
She stared through the windshield.
“For the past six months, whenever Marcus started yelling, I turned on the recorder in the kitchen security camera.”
I nearly stopped the car.
“How many recordings?”
“A lot.”
“Why didn’t you use them?”
She looked at me.
“Because I thought if he ever knew I had them, he’d hurt me worse.”
I pulled into a parking lot.
My hands were shaking.
“Rachel.”
She swallowed.
“There’s one from last night.”
“The threat about the baby?”
She nodded.
“And more.”
I felt cold.
“What more?”
Rachel looked down at the memory card.
“He didn’t just threaten to take my baby.”
May you like
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“He told me he already had a plan to make everyone think I was an unfit mother.”
