Opening the door quietly, I stifle a laugh. Sitting on the edge of the bed, arms folded across the chest, sour expression on his face, Michael resembles a child.

"Michael, look, I'm sorry. I can't help that there was an accident and traffic, but the more you sit there and sulk the less likely it is we are going to meet our reservations. Give me five minutes to get sorted and we can leave. We still have plenty of time for the drive even if there is traffic"

He looks up at me, his expression softening.

"Come. Sit."

His hand is outstretched, waiting for me. Walking over, I obey.

"You know, I wanted to do this for you. All you have for me is excuses every time I try to do something nice for you, and it's not fair."

He sighs. He leans over, his cologne wafting into my nostrils. I cringe and push against his chest as he kisses my neck and tries to cup my breast. Why does he always want to make things sexual when things don't go his way? His grip tightens as he tries to grope my chest again.

"Michael! What are you doing?"

A fire flares in his eyes. A look I've never encountered to this degree. He grabs my arm and flings me backwards, trapping me beneath him. I struggle to move, his hands like cuffs around my wrists, pinning my arms in place above my head.

"Let me go! Michael, please!"

I have no choice but to watch him unzip his trousers and lower them to his ankles. He yanks my skirt and underwear off, crawling towards me as he does so. I still try in vain to break free; my heart beating loudly against my chest. God no. He can't be about to do what I think he is. I cry and beg, hoping to sway him. He leans into my ear.

"You are my wife and I have every right to do with you as I please. Now you have the duty, as my wife, to allow me to fulfil my desires"

I try one last time to free myself from his grip. I turn my head, close my eyes and try to imagine I'm somewhere else, anywhere else. Try to imagine that I can't feel the softness of the new bedding set I'd bought that weekend. Try to imagine the salty smell of the beach, or the clinical smell of a public swimming pool instead of the musky scent of sweat that invades my senses. I let my mind tune out every second that passes until the bed shifts, the weight upon me eases, and I'm free.

His poison drips down my thigh, tainting my skin. I let out a breath, only just realising I had been holding it. Curling into a ball, I roll away from him and allow my tears to stream silently down my face. Unable to see him, unwilling to look over, I listen to his every move, calculating his exact position. I beg silently for him to stay away. For it to be over. I hear him pull on his robe and open the en-suite door; swiftly followed by the sound of water running, the robe dropping to the floor and the shower door closing. Each sound seems excruciatingly loud in the otherwise quiet house. The water stops. He's opening the shower door and grabbing a towel off the hook. The door handle rattles. When I hear all three of his drawers open, I release my breath. I count every footstep as he heads towards our bedroom door, but still I am unable to turn towards him. The door opens but a fraction before I feel his eyes on me. I pull myself tighter into myself, shielding my eyes from the piercing hallway light.

"I love you Mel"

With the soft thud of the door shutting behind him, I let my tears fall freely. A car starts, his I pray. Then silence wraps its arms around me.