"Jess, I'm sorry about the fight last week. I was trying to be honest with you because I'd like to make things better," Justin said as he plopped himself on the couch next to me. Taking the remote from my hand, he turned the TV to a rerun of Criminal Minds.

"Really? So you really want to make things better? It only took you almost two weeks to apologize," I snapped, getting up.

"Of course you kept count of the days," he threw back, but then his voice softened as he continued – although his attention was solely on the TV. "I do. I miss you and the kids. I miss what we had."

"I don't believe anything you say." I walk away from him, anxiety rebuilding within me. The kids were in bed, so it was time for a long hot shower to calm down.

"I deserve that. I've been off. It's been hard trying to figure me out," Justin called out.

"So you take everything out on the people that love you the most?" I stopped and looked back at him.

"I shouldn't, but you're the only one I can trust. It's hard to know what's real and what isn't."

"Sorry doesn't mean anything if you don't change the behavior that you're sorry for in the first place."

"I'm trying."

"How are you trying, Justin? How?"

"You want examples?"

"I want you to tell me how you're trying to stop being a complete asshole?"

"I'm not always an asshole."

"Jace asked you to throw the football yesterday... You told him you had better things to do... So please tell me you aren't an asshole?"

"I had to study my script?"

"What script?"

"For Hallows."

"Hallows... you mean that 'TV show' that will never amount to anything because all they do is BBQ 'workshops' and reshoot scenes?"

"This show is going to make me an A-lister, and you're just jealous because all you ever had was a photo studio and you sucked at that – quit it just like you quit everything."

"I gave up my studio because I had to take care of you!"

"I didn't ask you to. Never asked you for anything."

"I'm your wife; it was my job to take care of you. You would've done the same."

"You sure about that? Cause today I'd leave you dying in the gutter."

"I thought you wanted to work things out?"

"I was trying to – hoping maybe you wanted the same thing, but I guess not."

I left the room, refusing to be drawn deeper into whatever fight he was hoping to have. Work things out? The only thing he wanted was for me to be there when he wanted me to be – to spread my legs eagerly when he wanted me too.

That's all he wanted. A wife when it suited him.

Yes, a hot shower sounded great.

***

Rough hands replaced the hot massaging spray of water. Annoyance filled me yet again. Why couldn't he just leave me alone?! Surely his on-screen bimbo friend could service is uncontrollable sexual urges.

Justin's body rubbed against mine as he crammed himself into the shower behind me. The shower was barely big enough for one person, and definitely not when one person was attempting to get away from the sexual advances of the second person.

Close your eyes, Jess, just close your eyes. In a few minutes, he'll be finished with you.

His hands grabbed my nipples – still tender from last night's assault – and yanked on them. Silently, I wondered if that ever turned anyone on. Eyes squeezed together, I prayed for a quick end to this attack on my body.

I felt him lower to his knees, and I groaned in desperation to get out of the shower, to hide away from this embarrassment. His hands grabbed my butt cheeks, and his mouth found what it wanted.

"Justin, I'm not really in the mood," I pleaded, pushing his head.

"You will be. My dick is so hard right now. Let me taste that pussy," he moaned out into my thigh.

Humiliation ripped through me as I felt his tongue on my intimate place. Why does he have to ruin my showers as well? Why can't I have a single place that is sacred?

"Justin, I do not want to have sex with you. Stop." I pushed his head again.

He stood up abruptly and dragged me out of the shower, my feet slipping out from under me. My knees made contact with the floor.

The steroids made him a horny monster. His appetite was never complete. He was deaf to my pleas and protests.

My vagina would once again be raw and bleeding tomorrow. The thought of sex once warmed me, prepared me for an intimate moment with my husband, but now sex only brought shivers of repugnance and panic.

I watched him as he sat on the edge of the tub, his penis a rigid rod protruding from his groin.

"Suck on it, baby." He forced me down onto my knees, my face so close to his penis the tip of it rubbed against my cheek.

"No." I pulled away from its scorching touch.

"Suck on it. It wants you. I want to be in your mouth. I like how it feels in your mouth." He pulled me closer, tugging my head, so the tip of his penis pressed against my lips. His hand pushed with force, and when I went to protest on instinct again, the head slipped inside my half-clamped lips.

"That's right, baby, suck it. Take all of it," he urged.

I choked as he pushed himself further into my mouth.

"You give the best head," he moaned out.

Vomit circled my stomach, slowly making its way up my throat as the taste of him embedded itself in my taste buds.

I finally managed to pull away from him when he lifted his hand from my head.

"Justin, I don't," I pleaded, rolling onto my feet before he caught me and turned me, so I was facing the other way.

"There's that ass I like, round and high in the air, waiting for me to fuck it. How about some anal? Let's try it, baby. You know you want to be dirty like that," he teased, his fingers swiping the length of my sex.

"No, Justin," I replied and tried to pull away from him as he slipped one arm around my waist.

"One day I'll get your ass. Today, I'll just fuck your pussy."

He jabbed his finger into my vagina, the roughness of his skin scratching me.

"Justin, please stop!"

"You always say no, but I leave you humming for more. I hear your little pants of joy," he teased again.

I felt his hand guiding his penis before he shoved it into me.

This pain had to stop eventually. Wouldn't my body just phase it out eventually? Didn't the body have some kind of defense mechanism that stops pain from being felt? Maybe I'll pass out eventually, and then he'll have to stop. Then again, he'll probably continue and not even bother to see if I'm still breathing.

"You gonna come, baby? Is my dick making you want to come on my dick?" He moaned above me and thrust harder into my vagina.

"No, you asshole, I'm not going to come. My vagina is so far from coming it's leaving!" I wanted to shout at him. Instead, I felt a grunt come out. I couldn't speak if I wanted to. Where is my speck of glitter? I need to focus on something, maybe that will help. Isn't that what they taught me in childbirth class? This is by no means childbirth, but it's almost as painful.

Somehow, I must have earned this; somehow, I brought this on myself. I must have been a really bad person in a previous life. Maybe I hurt someone. Maybe I even killed someone, and this is my punishment.

But even if such thoughts running through my head were true, surely every day of this would cancel out any misdeeds I did in my past. I couldn't do this for much longer. I was a strong person – I liked to think – but this was too much for me to bear.

Looking up to see if his face hinted that he was close to finishing his deed, I caught my eyes in the mirror. My eyes were glued to the reflection. Who is this person? I wondered. What happened to the girl who would've never allowed anyone to use her body this way? Where was the life that once radiated through these eyes?

Shamefully I tore my eyes away and looked behind me to the man who was once my husband.

His eyes were squeezed together and his face red from the shallow, noisy breaths I heard from behind me. I felt his legs shaking, and he dug his penis deeper into me. How could it go any deeper? He was not a huge man to begin with.

The pain began to fade away, or maybe I was just used to it.

"You want me to come inside your hot pussy, deep inside your tight cunt?" he groaned out, leaning into me, pushing me over more.

My own legs shook under his weight.

It was over; his penis went limp in my raw vagina and slipped out, his fluid slipping out with him and dripping down the side of my leg. He ground his limp penis against my bare butt cheek, wiping his nasty wetness on me.

Vomit rose up my throat. You're finished now. Get off of me! my brain screamed at him. I squirmed under his weight, trying to force him off.

"Give me a sec – my legs are locked up." He snickered as he held me in place with his arms and thighs.

"My legs hurt," I quietly told him, hoping he'd care enough to move.

"Mine too." He stayed in place, leaning his weight onto still my bent over body.

Frustration whelmed up inside me, replacing whatever pain I still had pounding throughout my lower body. Why couldn't he see he was hurting me? Why couldn't he see that his actions were wrong and bad?

Grunting, he finally stood up and grabbed a towel to wipe his penis with, then threw the towel at me.

"Thanks for another fuck. See, when you do what I want, we get along great." He patted my head and walked away, leaving me lying there, soundless.

Like usual after one of his attacks.

I looked down at my legs, the quivering muscles under the flesh. Spots of blood speckled my pale skin. Tears burned behind my open eyes. This was my life. How low I had sunken.

Vomit gagged me as I lurched up and toward the toilet, just managing in time to spill the contents of my stomach into the clear water.

How much more of this could I stand before I would lose control completely. Would death be better than the hell I was in? At least, I attempted to appease myself.

There was nothing worse than this.