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eyes trained on me.
    I stare back at him. I don't know if he's implying I'm going to leave him again or if I'm going to cheat on him. Perhaps both. Nathan has made it very clear as to what would happen if I ever looked at a man, talked to a man or, god forbid, ever touched another man. I can remember when our former pool man flirted with me one day. I wouldn't even call it flirting as much as just a casual hello, a smile and a wink. His actions seemed so harmless to me at the time, but Nathan saw something very devious in those small gestures. The next morning Nathan beat the man so badly that he was in a coma for almost a month. Whatever anger he had left after the beating he took out on me. The lies I spun for the emergency room staff flowed freely while I sat under Nathan's stern gaze. "I fell down a flight of stairs." I don't know if the ER doctor necessarily believed me, but Nathan's reputation and his money were very persuasive. I know firsthand that anything and anyone, for that matter, can be bought.
    And as for leaving him, he's also made it very clear as to the consequences for my actions. I remember the first time I thought I could run away. After we were married for only a few months, I decided I couldn't take any more of the verbal and physical abuse. I packed a suitcase and hopped a bus at the nearest station. I was halfway across the state when the bus I was in got pulled over by several police cars. Nathan's father is the chief of police, and Nathan filed a missing and endangered person report the moment he discovered me gone. His father put all of the department's manpower into finding me. After my dramatic capture, I endured all I could with Nathan for weeks until I was once again yearning to run away.
    I have tried everything imaginable over the past few years to leave him, but nothing has worked. And when I made a last-ditch effort to leave this world physically, even that plan failed in the end. Staring down at the jagged scar on the inside of my wrist, I push my memories back down where they belong. "You can trust me," I say finally.
    He clasps his hands together and nods once. "Well, I'm going to bed. I have an early meeting and surgeries scheduled all day." He stands and walks over to me. I don't even have time to react when he suddenly grabs my face roughly, crushing his fingers into my cheeks and jaw until I whimper in pain. He glares down at me and says through gritted teeth, "I expect you to be on time tomorrow evening, Avery. Don't. Disappoint. Me." He enunciates the last three words, making them sound like a threat. Then he releases me and disappears up the stairs to our bedroom.
    My fingertips gently massage my sore jaw as I blink back tears from the pain. I cautiously wiggle my mouth back and forth. My jaw isn't broken, but it hurts like hell. And here I actually thought he wasn't mad about me being late or perhaps had forgotten all about it. I should have known better. Nathan never forgets, and he most certainly never forgives.
    After a few seconds of composing myself, a sigh of relief washes over me knowing that he's sleeping in the other room. One more day down. And that is exactly how I live --- day by day. I can't look into the future, because all I see is darkness. There is no light at the end of my tunnel. Not yet anyway.
    My muscles slowly begin to relax. I'm always so tense around him, constantly on my toes, anxious and waiting for his next move. Without finishing the rest of my dinner, I stand and clean up the dining room and kitchen until it's spotless. Nathan wouldn't have it any other way. Being one of the country's best plastic surgeons, he spends every day making people---mostly celebrities---look perfect. And in that liking of perfection in his work, he expects it at home and everywhere else in his life. If only he practiced that perfection with his own personality.
    After grabbing an afghan from the couch, I slip out the back door and onto the deck that overlooks the ocean. The