Chapter Twenty‑Three: Bruises That Don't Fade
The house felt different after Ethan left.
Heavier.
Loraine noticed it first in the silence—how it pressed against her chest, how even the walls seemed to listen. Jason didn't raise his voice anymore. He didn't shout. He didn't need to.
He watched.
Her body told the story her mouth refused to speak.
Purple bruises bloomed along her arm where he had gripped her too tightly days ago. A faint mark curved along her collarbone from where he had slammed her against the door during one of his rages. She covered them with long sleeves, but Jason saw them anyway.
He always saw.
Refusal
That night, Jason reached for her in bed.
She stiffened immediately.
"Not tonight," she said quietly, turning her face away. "Please."
The word please cut him deeper than a scream.
He sat up slowly. "You've said that three times this week."
"I'm sore," she whispered. "I'm tired."
He stared at her, jaw clenched, breathing shallow. "So you punish me now?"
"I'm not punishing you," she said, her voice breaking. "I just… can't."
Something dark moved behind his eyes.
He stood abruptly and walked away, slamming the bedroom door so hard the walls shook.
She flinched.
Emotional Punishment
Jason did not touch her again.
Not her hand.
Not her hair.
Not even her shoulder when she passed him in the hall.
He stopped eating with her.
Stopped speaking to her unless necessary.
When she cried, he ignored it.
When she begged, he turned away.
The staff followed his silence.
Meals came late—or not at all. The doors stayed locked longer. The guards watched her more closely.
"You don't want me," he said one evening without looking at her. "So you don't get comfort."
Her knees buckled.
Violence Without Touch
One night, she dropped a glass by accident.
It shattered.
Jason turned slowly.
Before she could apologize, he picked up a chair and hurled it across the room. It smashed into the wall inches from her head.
She screamed.
"Look what you make me do!" he shouted. "Look!"
He stalked toward her, stopping just short of touching her. "This is restraint," he hissed. "This is me holding back."
She collapsed to the floor, sobbing.
The Pretend Obedience
The next morning, she changed.
She smiled again.
She nodded when he spoke.
She said, "I understand," and "You're right," and "I won't upset you anymore."
Jason noticed immediately.
Relief softened his face. "There you are," he said, pulling her into his arms. "I knew you'd come back to me."
She didn't hug him back—but she didn't pull away either.
Inside, she counted doors.
Windows.
Shifts.
Patterns.
She memorized the guards' footsteps.
Another Refusal
That night, Jason tried again.
She shook her head. "I still can't."
His hands clenched into fists.
"You're doing this on purpose," he said lowly.
She met his eyes for the first time in days. "I'm scared of you."
The words landed like a gunshot.
He slapped the wall beside her head—not her—but close enough that the sound echoed.
"I would never hurt you," he said through gritted teeth. "You make me hurt myself."
She whispered, "Look at me."
He did.
Bruises.
Fading marks.
Fear in her eyes.
Something cracked.
Apology That Feels Like a Threat
Jason dropped to his knees again—he always did when he felt himself losing her.
"I didn't mean to," he said hoarsely. "I swear. I don't know how this keeps happening. You're the only thing keeping me sane."
He pressed his forehead to her stomach, clinging. "Just don't leave me. Don't say no forever."
She rested her hand lightly on his shoulder.
"I won't," she lied.
The Plan Begins
That night, while he slept, she stared at the ceiling.
Her body hurt.
Her heart hurt worse.
But her mind was awake.
Ethan had found her once.
Someone could find her again.
She just had to survive long enough.
Questions That Burn Quietly
How long can pretending keep her alive?
What happens when Jason realizes she's only acting?
Will refusing him push him past control?
And when the time comes to run—
will she be strong enough to do it?