"What did you do today?" Mother prodded at me from over the phone. 

"Just took Oliver to the park," I said with as little emotion showing as possible. If I mentioned Amber or the state of her home, I was sure my mom would forbid me from going over again, and I didn't want that to happen.

"How is Steven treating you?" she asked suspiciously.

"Well..." I decided to tell her the truth, "he was nice to me for about a week, actually helping me with Oliver and chores around the house, but then he changed back to his other personality."

I heard her heave a huge sigh. "Well, Shy, you know what your father said, just don't have sex with him when he treats you like that."

I froze. It was as if someone had plunged a knife into my chest. I hated talking about that part of my life with my parents of all people.

"I can't stop him, Mom, he keeps me in the room until I do things for him..." I managed to choke the words out through clenched teeth.

"Do you need to come back and live with us again until he stops doing that?" I could hear the annoyance in Mom's voice as the words left her lips.

"Can't I just divorce him so this is all over with? He doesn't love me or our son."

"Shy, the Bible forbids divorce unless-"

"I'm either physically beaten up or he cheats on me or leaves me... yes, I know!" 

I could hardly hide the bitterness eating away at my soul. "But this is never going to stop. I'm not a human being to him, I'm a toy that he can play with and then put back on the shelf and ignore when he doesn't want me anymore."

"Well, you married him," Mother lectured me, "you made your bed, so now you have to lie in it."

"Mom, please, I'm miserable!" 

I wanted to cry, but I managed to keep my tears in. "I just want to get a divorce. This is never going to end until that happens-"

"He's a Christian," Mom interjected, "he's supposed to lead you and take care of you. Read the Bible more often together, the Holy Spirit will lead him to become a better husband."

I felt so helpless that I could barely focus on what she was saying. "I have to go. Love you, bye."

I hung up, resisting the urge to slam my phone against the desk, and sank into my chair. All motivation left my body. I didn't want to move or do anything, but I knew I needed to check on my son. 

Oliver and I had spent two hours that same afternoon at the park together, and I had just put a movie on for him so I could take a break. I was on the third story of our house, and he was in the basement. I walked over to the stairs and looked at the bottom.

Throw yourself down, I heard a voice say in the back of my head.

hen you can be free. 

The temptation to commit suicide was back. I hadn't heard those whispers in a long time. 

The loudest they had ever been was after I had given birth to Oliver. I had suffered from severe postpartum and wanted to commit suicide every day for a year. Never had I watched so many funny television series and movies back to back in my life before. 

Drowning my sorrows in comedies had helped me fight back against these horrid thoughts that plagued and haunted my mind. Then, one day, the voices vanished, as if they had never existed. Now, four years later, they were back.

I thought about the circumstances surrounding my pregnancy and shook my head angrily at how terrible they had been. Steven used to work over sixteen hours every day while serving in the Navy, so I had been alone most of the time. We also moved three times during my pregnancy, and one of those times I had to move most of our belongings by myself despite being close to term.

While I was giving birth to my son in the hospital room, the doctor had been looking impatiently at her watch and had told me to hurry up or she would have to cut my son out of me. I was only in labor for a few hours; five am up until two in the afternoon that same day, so I couldn't understand why she was so upset at me. Even now, I still don't understand why she had to take her bad day out on me...  

My husband had been in and out of the delivery room and was only ever briefly present, meaning I had to go through labor and delivery with an upset doctor and my Mom, who was lecturing me and making me feel horrible about myself on top of all the excruciating pain I was enduring.

I had to stay in the hospital three days after having Oliver because I had to be stitched up. I could barely walk or sit down for a month, yet my husband barely lifted a finger to help me despite how much pain I was in. I had to hug the walls and crawl my way to the kitchen to eat so I wouldn't starve, and I had to cook for myself the majority of the time since Steven was too cheap to allow me to order take out.

It was a miracle I was even alive now. I vowed never again to allow myself to be that vulnerable and helpless again, so I took birth control pills, much to my husband's dismay. I told him that we could have more children again in the future, but that I simply wanted to wait a few years. The truth was, I never wanted to have another child for as long as I lived. Oliver would be it. I loved my son dearly, and he was all I was willing to handle. I just hoped that Steven would keep believing me until I could find a way out of my marriage without me being accused of being the sinner in the situation. I didn't want to be ousted from the church and my family.

I made it down both flights of stairs and stopped at the entrance of the basement. I could see Oliver watching a Disney movie. He was sitting on the couch and was entranced with the screen. I smiled at him from the stairway as he giggled at the cartoon characters. 

Even though our son didn't talk much, I knew he had a good memory. I had shown him "Fantasia" only once earlier that year. I also owned the soundtrack and had played one of his favorite songs for him when we had gotten back from the park today, and he had began dancing and recreating the movie. I had been incredibly impressed with how accurate his performance was for only seeing it the one time. 

Since my son was completely content, I slowly snuck back up the stairs to get some more writing done on my story.

Ping!

I jumped slightly when my phone went off in my pocket, then relaxed when I remembered that my husband wasn't home yet. I didn't have to worry about him giving me grief for receiving messages from friends. Steven would be arriving home from work around five in the afternoon, and it was currently four twenty in the afternoon. I had to be careful about how much longer I would check and respond to messages sent to me.

At first, I thought Amber had reached out to me again, but I quickly saw that Salvador, her husband, had instead. No matter what was said, I would have to delete his messages to me so Steven wouldn't give me a hard time whenever he decided to check my phone next. Writing to guy friends guaranteed a punishment, whether it be my husband taking away my phone, or him locking me in a room until I performed sexual favors for him to make sure I still "loved him."

With my heart pounding at the thought of being caught, I quickly opened my messenger application and read what he had sent me.

Salvador: Hey, Shy, thanks for helping out with cleaning the house. Amber and I got into a fight, so she's currently living with her friends. She didn't want to help with cleaning at all for the house she insisted that we buy, so now I'm stuck doing everything by myself, including looking after our old house that hasn't sold yet.

That's awful. I thought to myself. However, Amber's claim about him being abusive was still lurking in the back of my mind. I could see that he was typing more since a little bubble with dots was bouncing around near the bottom of the messenger window, and waited with baited breath for the text to pop in.

Salvador: Feel free to help as little or as much as you want. I don't want to drag you into our drama. Thanks again for today.

I quickly typed back.

Shy: No problem. I can help Monday - Friday from 11 - 2 pm.

Salvador: I would greatly appreciate that.

Shy: Sorry you're going through all of that.

Salvador: Thank you. It'll be okay. See you tomorrow.

Shy: See you then.

What am I doing? I thought to myself as I could feel terror rising into my throat. I'm going over to a guy friend's house when there's no one else around. Steven will lose it if he finds out, and then he'll bring it up to my family...

I had just moved back in from being separated from my husband. Even though I had been living with my parents for the past three months, and despite them telling me that they wanted to help me parent Oliver, they wouldn't babysit if it meant sabotaging any plans of mine that they disapproved of.

"Hey, my friends want to have lunch with me." I had started to explain hesitantly to my mother during the last week of living with them. Salvador and Amber both agreed to meet up with me because they were concerned about my well being. I had braced myself for the for worst possible reaction, but at least I was trying to ask for help.

"Are these your friends that don't go to church?" She had asked, her blue eyes had narrowed in suspicion.

"Yes..." I started slowly and winced. I could already tell she was displeased. "Could you look after Oliver so I can go?" I managed to say without squeaking.

"No, I don't have time to do that." She replied in a cold tone.

That meant I had to take my son with me in order to see my friends, and my son wasn't the best at sitting. I couldn't invite them over to my parent's house, that was out of the question, and I knew that they were getting ready to move into town, meaning neither of their homes were toddler proof, so a restaurant with food that my son had enough patience to sit and eat at was the only option I had.

"I know it's going to sound crazy," I remember saying to them as we all sat at the booth in the back of our favorite Mexican restaurant, "but Steven..." I had looked down at my son and realized I should be careful about how I talked about my husband in front of our son. "you know who, is incredibly abusive to me."

"How so?" Salvador had asked curiously, his black eyebrows furrowed together in concern.

As I explained what Steven did to me, I had noticed how Salvador's dark face grew more and more serious. His bright green eyes widened in surprise, and he even scratched his head and looked at me in disbelief at times.

Oliver had interrupted a few times by getting up out of his seat. He had tried to run around the restaurant, but Salvador had asked Amber to watch him so I could continue venting my frustrations. She had managed to get him to sit on her lap after walking a few laps around the room with him. Thankfully, no one else in the restaurant seemed to mind.

"I'm sorry you're going through that," he began slowly, "but can't you just get a divorce? It doesn't sound like he's going to change at all."

"I can't." I had replied sadly. "My parents said I can't, or I'll be the one in sin."

Salvador and Amber both exchanged uneasy glances after I had said that.

"But, it's your life." Amber added. "They're not the ones in the marriage, you are."

"But I'll be the sinner if I leave him." I had said angrily.

"Is it really that big of a deal to be called a sinner?" Salvador asked gently.

We left on that note. It was only a few short days after our lunch get together that Oliver and I had moved back in with Steven. Looking back, I was sure that my friends didn't take me seriously because I hadn't stayed separated from Steven. I had wanted a divorce more than anything then, and I still wanted it now, but I was terrified of having a bad standing with my family and the church. My parents and siblings were constantly pressuring me to fix the marriage, saying I had to make Steven love me, and I didn't want to let them down, but I didn't know how to make Steven be a good husband or father.

I snapped my thoughts back to the present. I'm allowed to help my friends, right? I asked myself as my heart began pounding loudly in my chest. I nodded to myself. I'm just going over to help them BOTH out with their house. They BOTH helped me when I needed it, it's only fair that I do the same. That's it. That's all. Friends help friends in need. It's the right thing to do.

Despite me reassuring myself that my intentions were good, I was shaking slightly from the thought of sneaking around my husband. Amber had technically invited me to help with cleaning their new home first, and I didn't have to mention to Steven that she wouldn't be present for a few days. I deleted Salvador's messages to me and kept Amber's as proof that all I was doing was going over to help clean their house.

I suddenly heard heavy footsteps coming up the wooden stairs on the side of the house facing the garage. Steven was home. I froze in place as the lock clicked and the door loudly creaked open.

"Honey, I'm home." My husband bellowed. I timidly entered the kitchen.

"Hi. How was work?" I asked nervously. Either Steven was going to suddenly start angrily yelling at me for something, or he would go sleep for a few hours. I crossed my fingers and prayed for the latter outcome.

"Good." He yawned. "I'm exhausted. I need a nap."

Yes. I smiled to myself. "Go take one." I said as I knelt down and helped him take off his shoes before he got a chance to order me to do that for him.

He nodded sleepily and lumbered off to our bedroom, where he collapsed onto the bed before pulling out his phone to surf the internet.

Steven falling asleep meant I would have more time to myself. I was happy that he was too tired to spend time with me. My thoughts turned to tomorrow, and I realized I was excited about leaving the house again and spending time with Salvador, even if it was just to clean and do chores around their house. I did hope Amber would come back so I wouldn't have to lie about her not being present the entire time should I get caught, and I really hoped that she was just over exaggerating about Salvador being abusive.

Let's see what tomorrow brings.