His Alone

Rose is a small town southern beauty and Michael a big time corporate manager with a heavy past and even greater burden. Their home life is sketchier than most, but, what really is love?

Rose dropped her head in her hands as sobs wracked her body. She sat in the dark her elbows digging into the cold marble counters, a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels only an arm's length away. The clock that ticked behind her read three in the morning and Michael still wasn’t here. Her husband of two years still not home, no idea of where he could be or what he was doing. 

Their first year married was nothing like this. It was perfect, he was home by ten every night and helped make dinner. Sometimes when she greeted him at the door he had a bouquet of her favorite flowers or a box of deluxe chocolates. He would constantly feed her compliments, like how beautiful and smart she was. They’d only known each other a short while before marriage, but it had felt like eternity at the time. 

Then everything started to slowly crumble the second year. He would get agitated over the smallest of incidents. If she stayed out too late he was suspicious. She had to stop spending time with her friends because he wanted to monopolize her. Rose lost all confidence in herself after the first time he told her she was gaining weight and should keep her body in better shape.  

Michael began to micro-manage every part of her life. From who she talked to to what she ate in the morning. Friends begged her to leave him after the first month, but how could she? Not when he would still crawl into their bed at night and cradle her softly to him whispering how much he needed her. 

She was so lost in her thoughts that she had forgotten the time, forgot she was in the kitchen with a bottle of Jack obviously consumed. The front door pushed open, the creak from the hinges echoed through the room and her heart. Rose scrambled to get the evidence hidden. He couldn’t know. He couldn’t. 

“Rose?” Michael's voice whispered through her mind, soothingly, the voice of an enchanter. “Are you up? I’m glad. I brought you a gift.” With every step he took the floors creaked and her panic clawed through her. 

The bottle was in her hand, but where did it go? Her mind was fuzzy; she’d had to much. He’d be here any second. 

“Do you remember that bracelet we saw at Macy’s last week? I noticed it caught your eye.”  A drug, he was a drug she couldn’t get rid of. 

Fridge! The fridge of course! Rose took off across the kitchen. Why was their kitchen so big? She reached it faster then she thought and smashed into the doors rocking the whole appliance. 

“Are you okay, Rose? What’s going on?” Such concern, but she could hear the anger underneath it all. 

With the fridge open she shoved the uncapped bottle on the top shelf then slammed it closed. She turned to the kitchen entrance fussing with her mussed hair still damp from sweating so badly in her sleep. 

Michael walked in just as she’d finished combing it back from her face. He was smiling from ear to ear. His black hair was braided and pulled back from his face making his high cheekbones even more prominent. God he was beautiful. She had to look away because she could get caught in those emerald’s he called eyes.  

“D-Dear. Welcome home! I didn’t expect you home so early.” She laughed nervously. 

He frowned, “It’s four in the morning. You should have expected me home a long time ago. Usually you’d gripe.”  Only the marble counter kept them apart. 

“Ah! My, look at that.” Rose was covering her mouth. She begged someone anyone that he didn’t smell Jack. 

Michael laid a red box the size of her hand down on the table. He gestured for her to pick it up and open it. She did of course and inside was a charm bracelet lined with silver snowflakes and diamond eyed penguins " her favorite animal. 

“Oh goodness!” She exclaimed, “It's beautiful, Michael, I love it!” She really did in all honesty. It was things like this that caused Rose too love Michael. Even though he poisoned her; he always provided the antidote. 

****

Michael held the hand of his little sister as he walked through the grocery store. She was ten and he sixteen, the eldest brother and only capable man of the family while his father sat at home and drowned himself in booze.  

“Mikey, look!” River pointed her little finger at unicorn with a flowing rainbow mane. His chest squeezed at the price. 

“We can’t afford it, River. I’m sorry.” They had a total of forty dollars to spend on groceries that would have to last them another month. The unicorn was nineteen. 

Michael looked down at his sister mournfully. She had nothing to play with at home except a doll made of tissue paper and rags. Her long blonde hair was uncombed and her clothes were stained. He looked no better, but this was the best that circumstances gave them. “How about I let you pick out a candy bar? That should be okay.” 

Rive squealed with delight and Michael couldn’t help but to smile himself. Her happiness was his own. “First, we need to shop.” They were quick: bread, pasta and rice. River picked out a Hersey’s chocolate and they were on their way. 

Their home was a shabby leaky roofed shed in the back of a dump. Him and his sister were surrounded by trash and rodents. He couldn’t wait to grow up, to give them both a better life. One without their father present. 

Michael stopped and pulled his sister behind him. He kneeled down got eye level and whispered, “Dad is home, River. I think he is sleeping. Stay quiet okay? I want to hide some of the food before he notices.” Otherwise the pig would waste it all. 

River nodded her head and covered her mouth with both hands. The slight fear in her eyes made him wish their father dead. “There’s nothing to worry over, I'll protect you.” Michael promised. 

However, when Father was drunk. He was just too much for a gangly teenager. 

****

“Michael? Michael?” 

He blinked the past away. Instead of River calling his name it was Rose. His wife. A beauty really, petite body, round soft features set with a kind smile and warm golden eyes often framed by curly brown locks. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t hear you.” 

“Won't you put it on me?” She asked. She reminded him so much of River; it was one reason he had wanted her so badly. 

Michael obliged and slipped the bracelet over her frail wrist without having to release the clasp. Rose seemed to be getting skinnier, he didn’t remember being able to wrap his fingers around her arm twice. He looked up to question her health and that’s when he noticed her eyes, completely bloodshot, and the unmistakable smell of liquor. 

“Rose…” 

Her eye widened and she snatched her hand back from his grip, “Y-yes?” 

Michael narrowed his eyes and his hands balled into fists on the counter top. “You’re drinking?” He stepped around the counter slowly like a lion stalking its prey. When he had her in the corner between the fridge and stove he placed both fists at either side of her. Michael leaned in to sniff his confirmation. 

“Sweetheart, I’m not dru-“

“LIAR!” He shouted in her face. “Don’t. Lie to me.” 

Rose swallowed, she was visibly shaking. Michael could see the tears building in her eyes. D****t! He needed to calm down or he’d be just like his father. 

****

“You look just like your mother, River.” Michaels father slurred. His breath smelled like rot, it was everything for Michael to keep from throwing up in his face. 

He could hear River crying behind him, cowering in the corner of the kitchen. Michael stood his arms outstretched blocking his father's view. “Get away!” 

His father laughed and that rancid breath hit him like a left hook. his stomach rolled but Michael refused to let it move him. He couldn’t let his father touch River. He wouldn’t. 

“Think you can stop me, boy?” The drunks fist landed in Michael gut without warning. All breath escaped him and he fell forward in a fit of coughs over his father’s arm. He didn’t hold him there for long but dropped him to the ground like a forgotten doll. “You know,” he slurred, “If it weren’t for your f*****g b***h c**t of a mother I’d still have money. A f*****g life.” 

Michael struggled to his hands and knees trying to get enough air back into his lungs to function. 

“If it weren’t for that damn s**t, I wouldn’t have you two to suck my wallet dry.” From the corner of his eye he could see his father bending down. “You look like your mother. The b***h I’d give anything to strangle.” 

“No!” Michael shouted. He twisted grabbing for his father’s shoulders, but instead got a fist to the face. Michael couldn’t keep conscious for long, the last thing he heard was the strangled cry of his dearest sister. 

****

“I was just lonely and you weren’t here and I had no idea what to do Michael! I’m sorry!” Rose was in a panic. Michaels breathing was heavy he had to calm down. The memories wouldn’t stop flooding into him. 

“Shh!” Michael hugged her to him. “It’s okay. You're sorry... that’s enough.” He waited until she calmed down. Until she wasn’t shaking before pulling her away to cup her cheek in his palm. “But if you do it again. There will be consequences. Okay?” He spoke softly, reasonably. 

“Okay.” She cried. More crying. He couldn’t help but to hurt her. If he was a stronger man, a better man, he’d let her go. He would make some big spiel about how he loved her and she wasn’t safe with him so she should run. 

The thought that she would escape if given the chance enraged him. The idea that someone other than him would lay their defiled hands on her skin made his blood turn. The concept that she would no longer be here when he came home drove him nearly to insanity. 

“Michael?” 

“Yes, Rose?” 

“Do you love me?” Her voice was barely audible. 

Michael didn’t answer immediately even though it should be obvious as to what he should say. He should say that he does and that she has nothing to fret over then send her off to bed. “Love you? Do you love me, Rose?” 

She opened her mouth as if to answer but he pressed a finger to her lips, “Do you love me enough that you would go through hell, Rose?” His eyes bored into hers. She was scared he could see it. 

“Y-Yes.” She stammered. 

Michael smiled, “Good. I cannot say I love you the same, though. Regrettably.” He watched her heart break and shatter like fine china falling on concrete. “What I can say is that you are mine. Mine Alone. I won't let you leave, not like my mother. I won't let you want, not like my sister. I won't let you rot, my blossoming rose, not like my father.”  

Author's Note

Grammar is probably rough.

Reviews

[Rebecca]

"She sat in the dark her elbows digging into the cold marble counters, a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels only an arm's length away." This would flow better like this: "She sat alone in the dark, her elbows digging into cold marble counters. A half empty bottle of Jack Daniels is only arm's length away." Great starting sentence, though, suggests your narrator is an addict
How old are the characters? Describe them physically and also get into their soul, their personality, their quirks
a lot of violent emotions in the story. you tell it in the dialogue. try to show it too: sweat, racing heartbeat, pacing
This feels like a first chapter, not a story. I was rooting for forgiveness, not consequences. If my soulmate kept drinking, I'd kindly help him and be there for him and support him and hug him. Not yell at him. i'd help him stop and always be there for him. Passionate story that definitely needs another chapter. :)

[Kathrine Rethorn]

Thank you so much! I will definitely work on more sensory details. You are right there is plans for more chapters and more of their back stories :)

[Rebecca]

your welcome :)

[Warrior]

this is so sad and very well written. but close to the beginning you say- husband of two years - which makes him sound like her husband is 2 years old. not husband for 2 years.
other than that its heart breaking which shows how ell you wrote it.

[Chris]

A sad tale of reality and the perceptions that build it...I look forward to viewing following chapters to see how your characters are further fleshed out and where your intent will take the story.

[Kathrine Rethorn]

Thank you so much! I'm looking forward to writing them!