Green-Eyed Monster

Neighbors of the Baker's were used to hearing screams coming the house of Zacky Baker and his girlfriend. Thinking the noises were simply the shouts of two young people in love who frequently expresses their affection in a physical manner, the people living nearby brushed the sounds off. Little did they that more often than not, they were a scared and beaten woman's desperate cries for help.

But one day the screams ceased. No noise; only dreadful silence. To the outsiders, it appeared that the relationship between the guitarist and his lover had ended, and the situation wasn't looked into. But inside the Baker mansion, the truth of the matter transformed the house into something cold and sinister.

Jillian lay in the dark pantry, the cold tile against her bruised cheek. She was close to death. One day Zacky had gotten so angry he'd beaten her and kicked her until stars floated before her eyes. One final blow rendered her unconscious, and when she awoke what felt like several hours later, she could not bare to move. Every inch of her body ached; she knew she sported broken bones, and more than likely internal injuries and bleeding as well. And if the intense pounding in her head pointed to anything, it would lead Jillian to conclude that she had also suffered a concussion.

Jillian had been trapped in the pantry for four long days, bound by pain and unable to move. She ate what she could reach with the scarcest amount of movement, and drank whatever Zacky pressed to her lips. 

Zacky felt terrible for what he'd done to Jillian, but she'd just gotten him so…angry. He'd never once been that angry before. And when he thought about it, Zacky wasn't even sure it had been Jillian's fault in the first place. It was more likely his, or the friend that convinced him to drink. Jillian was simply a victim of circumstance: in the wrong place at the wrong time. But that didn't stop Zacky. He beat Jillian with a brutal force, only stopping when she collapsed to the floor, unconcious.

He approached her gingerly with a bottle of water in hand. He held Jillian's head in his lap and helped her to get the liquid down her throat. This was their cycle. Abuse and forgiveness, running together in a circle. But now…now something was different. Jillian was repulsed by Zacky, he noted it in the way she flinched from him whenever he reached for her. But right now, Jillian was terrified of Zacky. This wasn't the charming, sweet, funny man she'd met at the music festival so many years ago. Time had turned him into a cold-hearted monster. She hated looking into his eyes and seeing only hatred and anger. She longed for the sparkling adoration that had dwelt in his olive eyes, and the lopsided grin he used to always wear. Both of these things were of the past now. There was nothing anyone could do to change Zacky, but Jilliam would try. In her mind, there was a way to fix the man she loved, and that's what kept her from leaving.

Jillian eagerly drank the water Zacky brought to her. Her throat had been so dry, only adding to the torturous feeling that consumed her entire body. But she was so weak that the small action of lifting her head drained a majority of her energy, and she felt herself drifting off, her head still resting in Zacky's lap. Zacky remained there with her until she fell asleep, all the while stroking her hair to soothe her. He felt he at least owed her that. And soon as she was sound asleep, and he was sure of it, Zacky left.

The next day, Jillian's body surprised her by allowing her the strength to pick herself up off the floor. It was while trying to get to her feet that Jillian discovered her left arm was broken. The break wasn't serious, more than likely just a fracture, but it would make leaving all the more harder. By performing a self-check, Jillian came to the conclusion that she was also suffering from a fractured collarbone, and at least three broken ribs. These broken bones were a likely result of Zacky's remorseless kicks.

Overnight, Jillian had made a choice. After nearly four years of hell at the hands of the man she loved, she had made the decision to leave Zacky. This choice had not been an easy one for Jillian. She loved Zacky, but she knew that a life with him would not be a happy one. After all, he'd nearly killed her in a drunken rage. And who's to say he wouldn't succeed in taking her life at a later date?

So Jillian gathered her things as quickly as she could one-handed and carefully packed them into a small black duffel bag. She had not seen Zacky since he'd last brought her a bottle of water, and that had to be close to twenty hours ago. Jillian hoped he was gone from the house, so that she could escape without conflict. Imagining Zacky's reaction when he rerturned home to find her gone brought a weak smile to Jillian's face. For once Zacky would be on the receiving end of the hell.

The house was all quiet as Jillian crept to the door. She placed her right hand on the doorknob and gave it a turn, filling the silent foyer with a squeak. She pulled the door open a centimeter and a voice behind her said, "Jillian, where are you going?"