"Justin, when did you start steroids?" I asked him when we got in the car to go to Costco.

He had asked me to go. At first, I'd wanted to tell him no, deny my time with him, and limit my exposure to his negativity. But after several days of silence over the matter, I decided that it was time to open up the lines of communication.

A trip to Costco could be a good time to have a discussion with him about what happened. I felt the need to talk to him, to get to the bottom of why he lost his job, his plans on finding a new one, and the steroids I'd caught him taking. The "sexting" chat with Victoria I tried to put to the back of my mind, but it often resurfaced, burning my thoughts. How many other women was he chatting to? Again, it was just beyond humiliating.

So many questions filtered through my brain. I'd watched him fall so far in the past year. How much further could he fall?

"I've been talking about starting them for a while. Seriously, Jessica, you should pay attention when I talk to you." He started his new 2015 black Camaro. The engine roared to life, the vibrations running up my spine.

"I remember you not talking to me before you started them," I snapped back at his condescending tone. His tone pissed me off. I hated the way he talked down to me, like I was a child.

"I don't have to talk to you about anything. It's my money. You don't earn it. All you do is spend it like a leech. For years you've sucked me dry," he bellowed, his voice bouncing off the small interior of the car.

"Justin..."

"Jessica," he sneered out. There would be no talking to him today. He was past talking to. A little voice inside my head told me to just be quiet and enjoy the ride as best as I could. At least for this trip to Costco, I wouldn't be expected to foot the bill.

"I'm not fighting with you. All I meant was that with your head injury steroids might not be healthy." I tried to calmly explain myself to him. I was past keeping my mouth shut.

"'With your head injury'" he mocked as he swerved into traffic, cutting off a truck.

I gasped and grabbed the side of the door, my heart racing. "Justin, watch out!"

"Shut up," he growled out as he pressed the gas pedal further down, the engine of the car roaring.

"Don't drive like an idiot."

"I'm not the idiot; they are. I'm driving just fine," he retorted, his voice still clipped.

My stomach flipped as I sat there with my eyes closed, feeling the car swerve through traffic, praying that I would live to see my children one more time. I was going to kiss them.

"I need to bulk up and get big for the show. I've gotten a little flabby in the middle, and that flab needs to be gone. Plus, I've felt great since I started last week. I didn't see you complaining last week when I was up in your cunt," he continued with the steroid conversation.

"You could start back at CrossFit. Kyle was asking about you yesterday." I refused to go back to what happened four days earlier. We'd already had that conversation; starting it back up now wasn't going to help matters. Justin believed that he did nothing wrong. He always believed that he did nothing wrong. That's just how it was.

"I don't have time to go to Crossfit."

"I would go with you to the 5:00 am class."

"Right – you hardly get up at 6:00 to get the kids to school on time."

"You don't need steroids. You never needed them before."

"I'm a busy man. I don't have the time to spend hours at the gym, although it'd be nice to get away from you for a couple hours a day and not be questioned about what I was doing. You did always take my word that I was at the box for those two hours. Did you ever wonder if I was actually there and didn't lie to you and go somewhere else? Tell me, truthfully, did you ever doubt my word?" He smiled at me, his teeth slightly stained from the chewing tobacco, a habit he started after the accident.

I looked away, closing my eyes again as he swerved around a corner, barely missing a van that was in the other lane.

"You never spent hours at the box. Plus, you ate healthily. All the candy and cake isn't good for you."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I always trusted you. You never lied to me. Your lying is a new thing," I answered truthfully. Back then, if he was at CrossFit, he was at CrossFit. He'd had no reason to lie. I never stopped him from doing the things he wanted to do. Although, now, I still wished I'd protested about the motorcycle.

"That's your fault then. Don't blame me later when you realize the mistake you made."

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Tired of being questioned about shit that's none of your fucking business."

"It is my business. You taking steroids is my business. I'm tired of dealing with new fucking things that come up because of your brain injury. Now I have to deal with steroids shit. It's my fucking business."

"How do you know I wasn't taking them before?"

"Because you weren't. Don't play games with me."

"Maybe I was... The way I see it is that we used to fuck all the time, then suddenly not at all, and now that I'm back on the juice, I find the urge to fuck you again. So, for me to find you fuck-worthy, I have to be on the juice, which logically points to the fact that I was doing steroids before the accident."

"You aren't worth dealing with over this."

"No, baby, you aren't worthy. You're my biggest regret. I hate you – always have. I pasted a smile on my face and told you pretty words to keep you from embarrassing yourself, trying to get attention from somewhere else. Nothing would make me happier than if you would just die a fucking horrible painful death. "

"Fuck off," I replied, the words burning my mouth. Never before had I told him to fuck off. The words felt dirty. Foreign.

Red spots clouded my vision. It was all a lie; I knew he loved me. It was getting so hard not to be drawn into his games, to react to him. I watched him play games with the kids. I hated it, always attempting to step in before things got too far.

Too often Jenna and Jace would ask him for something, and he would quickly say no, and then wait for them to ask him again and again until he would finally say yes.

It sickened me.

Yet, I stayed. Why? I asked myself daily. Why do I stay? Why do I continue to let him hurt me? She didn't know. I was afraid I would never know why.

"I feel like I'm twenty-four not thirty-eight," he said, his tone softer, like the truth had rubbed out the edge in his voice.

It cut me. Deep. All this time he believed he was twenty-four? We weren't even married when he was twenty-four. His truthfulness shocked me, and I welcomed it.

"You're not twenty-four, Justin; you're thirty-eight with a family," I replied, keeping my voice soft, too. I would never understand the way he felt, the way he was in the world. Nightly, I prayed I would never have to see the world through his eyes. Never feel the way he did.

Perhaps now that he'd opened up to me about this little detail, he would open up more. Hope blossomed again in me; this could be the sign he wanted help.

"I know that. I'm not stupid. I feel like I'm twenty-four. When I'm with Jake and Liz, I feel normal," he continued.

"It's okay to feel like that as long as you know you aren't twenty-four. You have responsibilities."

"I know I have fucking responsibilities. You remind me every goddamn fucking day when I see your ugly fucking face."

"I'm trying to be supportive here, but all you want to do is fight. Can you just get us to Costco so we can get home?" I murmured, turning my head to watch the cars as they flew by us.