"I don't know what to do anymore. The money is gone," I cried into the phone to my mom. I sat in my closet, my back against the door so no one could walk in on me.

"Sweetie, I don't think we have that much free money. $12,000 is quite a bit of money, and your dad just got done paying the quarterly taxes," my mom, Anna, calmly told me.

"I'm not asking for money, Mom, I just don't know what to do anymore. I'm lost." I cradled the phone to my ear. "I can fix him; I know I can. Everyone has given up on him." I cried into my knees, the weight of knowing that I, in fact, couldn't help him crushing me. I knew that there was no helping him unless he wanted it, and he didn't want it. He enjoyed his dark place.

"Baby, you can't help him," Mom quietly said over the phone, her voice breaking up my sobs. "Come home – we'll get you and the kids plane tickets. There is nothing there for you anymore."

"I have to fix him," I sobbed into the phone, my words a garbled ball of sounds that only a mom could understand.

"Jess, he's drowning himself, and he's going to take you and the kids with him."

"He'll be all by himself, alone in the world." I sobbed harder, the phone biting into my cheek as I curled up tighter into a ball on the closet floor. It was the only place where I could effectively lock myself inside and not be found weeping like a child. The only place in the house where I could have a minute of peace. A place to hide from the truth. Or at least it used to be. The truth followed me into the closet now.

"I know," Mom murmured. "You know what you need to do. No one can make you do it."

"I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do. Please, Mom. Tell me, and I'll do it," I hysterically begged through the phone. My heart was racing, my minding frantically searching for a solution to the problem. But there was really only one solution: leave.

Leave and never look back.

Justin's behavior was becoming more and more awful, and I didn't want to deal with it anymore. I couldn't live with it anymore. It wasn't just the current house situation, it was all of it. The entire Justin package.

He was no longer the man I met and married. He wasn't the father of my children that I was once so proud of. I wished I could go back and stop him, that morning, from riding off on that stupid bike.

I tightened the hold on the phone as my mind wondered back to taking the blame for all that had happened.

"I should've held him longer that morning, hugged him tighter, told him one more time how much I loved him. I should've asked him to go in late. I should've walked him out and made sure he wore his helmet. I should've prevented this... That's what I should have done. Somehow prevented all this from happening. I should've never agreed to the motorcycle – found some way to talk him out of getting it. And never signed the papers. He would've listened; he would've seen it my way. I should've stopped this," I garbled out into the phone.

Mom said nothing. Nothing was needed to be said. None of this was my fault though – I knew that deep down, somewhere in the shattered pieces of my broken heart.

I could take all the blame if I wanted to but nothing would change the situation. It was all in the past, and I had to move on. I couldn't keep wishing on stars and expect to wake up with everything fixed. But wishing made my hope stay alive.

If wishes were pennies...

The thought of leaving was overwhelming. Could I leave? Could I really start over? The kids had so much here; a great school, friends, memories.

I should've seen the changes in him more quickly – seen the way he brushed off my touch, the way he directly cut himself off from Jenna and Jason, the way he looked at us through the darkness of his eyes, the way his face changed, the way he talked to me. I should've seen the changes. Maybe had I seen them while they were happening I could've prevented them from being so big, so out of control.

"Mom, I'll call you later," I whispered into the phone.

There was noise behind me now, in the bedroom. I presumed it was Justin; the kids were still at school. What could he possibly want now? I thought.

"You're a strong person, don't let this beat you."

Don't let this beat you. I repeated Mom's words in my head as he called out my name. This has already beat me.

"Jess, can we talk?" his voice whined from the other side of the closet door. The door opened abruptly against me as he stuck his head through the opening. "Why are you on the floor?"

"I was on the phone and wanted some privacy," I told him softly.

"Privacy from who?" he asked as he squeezed further through the opening, pressing the door into me again. I should have moved to let him in easier, but I wanted to attempt to block him from entering my safe spot.

"You," I said bluntly as he plopped down next to me.

"Me? Why? I'm never around you anyway. I don't really care who you call. Was it your secret lover? A black dude with a big cock to satisfy your sexual cravings?" he teased.

Disgust filled me. I wanted nothing to do with sex. With him or any other man.

"Shut up, Justin. If you came in here to fight, then just leave. I have nothing to say to you," I hissed out through my teeth. My jaw hurt from the pressure.

"I came in here to tell you I fixed the mortgage. I made a payment and deferred the rest to the end of the mortgage. You won't lose your house." He grabbed my hand, holding it tight in his. In the past, this would have been a tender moment – him searching me out to work out a fight.

Yet, now, it was anything but a tender moment.

"Where is the money from the savings account?" I demanded, pulling my hand away.

"I used most of it to buy the Camero. And then loaned some to Jake and Liz. They both quit their jobs for the Hallows gig and needed some to float them – since production is taking longer than we all expected. I talked to Elijah about you being the primary photographer for the project. He said yes. See, I'm looking out for you. That way you have a legitimate reason to be on projection besides hounding me and the kiddos. "He grabbed my hand again and pulled me closer to him. He smelled unwashed, his sweat musty and sour.

"You used our savings to help out your friends? There was a lot of money in there. You didn't even talk to me about using the money to buy the stupid car," I spat out.

Anger surged through me, again. That was our money. Money to survive on. We needed that money now with him not having a job.

"I don't need to talk to you about anything. The way I see it is that I earned that money – I do what I want with it. It's always about the money with you! Get a job, Justin, I need more money, Justin, pay the bills, Justin. Why don't you get a job and pay the bills?" He smirked, edging closer, his rancid breath blowing in my face.

"Is my car up-to-date on payments? What other bills haven't you paid?" I asked him, pulling away from his hard grasp.

"I made the usual: phone, electric, water, insurance. Your car is probably late. I assumed you were making those. Your credit cards are most likely late too. Where you not paying those either? Tsk Tsk, Jessica. What do you spend my money on?" he chided, a deeper sneer settling on his face.

"You bastard," I gasped out, all other words failing me.

"You're the only bastard here. I know my father," he hissed out, pulling me down onto the floor. "Your father wanted nothing to do with you – left your whore of a mom and returned to his wife."

"Get off me, Justin," I protested as he pulled my shirt up and grabbed my left breast, twisting it in his fist.

"I like it when you protest. I think the lady protest too much." He'd practically blew the words into my face as he laid his arm over my throat and pressed down; not enough where I couldn't breathe but enough where I couldn't move.

"Don't do this, Justin. This isn't you," I pleaded hoarsely.

"I had a memory a few months ago. Wasn't sure if it was real or fake. Do you want to know my memory, Jessica?" he asked snidely, licking the side of my face. His saliva left a sticky and lingering smell, choking me more than his arm was.

"No, I don't want to know. Please, Justin," I begged, my arms pushing fruitlessly against him.

"That's right – beg me, Jessica, beg me to give you what you really want."

"Stop, Justin. Stop."

"I remember you teasing me with handcuffs, whispering in a slutty tone to handcuff you and tie you to the bed. 'Take me hard,' you insisted. I remember the way you screamed as you came as my dick slammed into your pussy. You liked it rough. You like being tied up and forced to do what I wanted. It makes you wet and ready. Are you wet now, Jessica? Is your pussy calling out for my dick? You like this game, don't you? Acting like I force you every time we fuck. Behaving like you're some victim in your little game. Does it turn you on to keep up our little game? You want me to rape you?"

His free hand ripped the thin, worn lounging shorts from my body. My heart raced. It wasn't true. He wouldn't go this far. I closed my eyes, refusing to look at his as he ripped my underwear off. His fingers plunged into me. He would find not wetness; I was bone-dry.

"Justin, that was a mutual game. A one-time thing. This isn't then. It was five years ago. This hurts – you're hurting me. Please stop," I pleaded again.

Shame filled me at the thought that our sexual game, from so long ago, had caused him to believe this is how I liked it. A game – despite it ending with the best orgasm I ever had – I now wished I'd never played with him. Out of all the memories, that was one he remembered?

His engorged shaft rubbed against my bare thigh, its touch making me want to back away in disgust. He held me against the ground as he started to grind his penis against my leg.

"You'll scream for me again. I'll hear you scream my name. You'll never forget this," he whispered as he flipped me over.

One large hand pressed into my back, restricting my breathing to small gasps of air.

Dizziness settled in. The world didn't seem real.

Wetness surrounded my anus.

I gave up the struggle.

My body tensed and waited for the oncoming assault.

He was right; I would remember this.

Forever.

Pain seared through me as his penis rammed into my anus. A scream choked in my throat. My breath caught and refused to come. Passing out would be a relief.

His grunting was barely audible from behind my silent screams. Time had no meaning. I had long stopped begging God to make it quick. With the steroids, the encounter took longer.

"Goddamn – your ass is amazing. So tight and firm. Fuck, it's making me want to come faster. Goddammit." He grunted as I felt him slam into me, over and over again, tearing my sensitive skin.

"Should I come in your ass, baby? Or in your pussy" he asked, leaning over me and whispering into my ear like I had a choice. "Let's see if your pussy is ready for me."

His penis left my body for a few seconds, relief sailing through me at the exit of his invasion... Only to quickly return as his shaft forced its way into my vagina. He would still find no wetness or welcome there. Yet it didn't stop him.

Just kill me, I begged silently.

With each new thrust, he forced himself in deeper.

"God, yes, baby. Feeel me come," he purred out with a final shove.

He stayed on top of me; the friction wounds within burning from the saltiness of his cum.

"I can't breathe, Justin," I whispered to the heavy air of his pleasure.

"Sure thing," his amused voice whispered into her ear as he pushed me harder against the floor, so he could lift himself off of my body.

"I'm going out tonight with some friends. You know what those are right... friends? There's a rager in Houston," he sneered out above her.

My friends were few now – most not agreeing with my decision to stay with him. It was easier to cut ties than to always feel like people judged me.

"Won't be back till tomorrow. Get this house clean."

"Don't bother coming home," I murmured.

His foot hit my back.

"What did you just say?" he shouted.

"Don't come home. We're done. You're no longer wanted here." I pushed myself up to a standing position, my body bare and vulnerable.

"This is my house, bitch! I'll come back if I want," he snarled out while pulling up his pants.

"I'll call the cops if you come back," I snapped, daring him to keep on challenging me.

"Call them – what will they do?"

"I'll tell them you raped me."

"Rape you? You're my wife; I can fuck you if I want to."

"No, Justin. No, you can't. You need to leave," I insisted.

After grabbing a robe from the closet, I attempted to leave the room – escape his menacing stare and hostility.

"I own you. The minute I saddled myself with you, I owned you. What are you going to do without me?"

"Justin, please, do the right thing and leave. You know you crossed the line today. This was not okay. None of it has ever been okay."

His hand wrapped around one of my arms, his touch sent sharp shivers of fear down my spine.

'Don't fucking touch me," I shrieked, backing into a far corner.

"You're ridiculous. A magnificent actress. You actually believe you're a victim?" He laughed, then walked over to the bedroom door and opened it.

"I'm going out. I may or may not be back. But you're correct – we are over. We've been over since the moment I woke up from death's door and saw your face hovering over me. I was free from you."

"We won't be here when you come back."

"Take my brats, and I'll hunt you down and kill you."

"I mean it, Justin. Don't come back."

"My kids better be here when I get back."

"Why, Justin? You don't care about them."

"Because they're mine. You can leave – go live on the street. No, better yet – go die in the gutter where you belong. Those kids belong to me."

"They aren't possessions. No one would give you them."

"Who would give a sniveling piece of shit like you anything?"

"Leave before I call the cops."

He left the room then, slamming the door behind him. The house shook with his anger, each shake reverberating harder through me.

I quickly threw on some clothes and raced to the car to go pick up the kids early from school. He'd come back; I knew it with every bone in my body.

What I didn't know, however, was if I would report his actions to the police or just allow him to come home and act like none of it had happened.