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sweetiesshortstories · 1 year

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Greener Pt3

But first, an authors note:

I logged in and had a few messages wishing me well, and I really appreciate it. I recovered from covid after about 2 weeks, but then there was a sudden death in the family. On top of that I was getting caught up on my school work. I really appreciate everyone’s patience as I regained control over my everyday life again. I’m also taking into consideration posting a shorter fast paced story during the week in between Greener. I have several ideas in the works, I promise I’ll get on them <3

Peter drove us to the police station in his car. He was tense and his face was red. I could barely wash up, I changed clothes but had time for nothing else. I felt awful, and I knew the drive would make it worse.

“I can’t believe you didn’t call me. Jesus, Corrie!” He slapped the steering wheel, the knuckles on his other hand turning white. I slumped against the seat and lolled my head to my right, watching the passing trees smear by. “I have to find out from a detective. I’m your husband. Fucking humiliating.”

“That’s the part you have an issue with?” I scoffed while staring ahead.

“Yes! I have a fucking HUGE issue with this god damned independence of yours. You think you can handle things alone and do whatever you want, and you can’t! And of course, you were with Tori. Not a surprise.”

“Don’t do that. You don’t like Tori, fine, but don’t make this her fault.” I sighed, rubbing my temples before smacking my hands down on my knees and releasing a breath. “Can we not do this, right now? He can probably see us arguing in his mirror.”

“Yea god forbid the detective from five minutes ago know we argue, like husbands and wives do.” I knew we would get nowhere when he was in that type of mood. He felt snubbed, but I wasn’t sure why. He was out on a date, and I was…escaping from a killer?

We pulled into the police station, following the unmarked police car towards the side of the building. Peter killed the engine and wiped a hand down his face.

“We’ll go in, you’ll answer whatever they ask, and we’ll be done. But you really pulled some shit with one, Corrie.” He got out of the car and slammed his door. I unbuckled and stepped out of the car, following him to the door where the detective was waiting for us. The fall chill was slowly creeping in the air, despite the summer warmth still being present, I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself as we entered the station.

We walked through the lobby, and the detective led us to a door with a keypad. After he typed in a code the door clicked and we walked through. It was quiet, with dark grey carpeting absorbing the sound of our steps. There was a soft murmur, a voice or two speaking in their offices. The fluorescent lighting gave the hallway an eerie aura, like the part in a horror movie when things start to go wrong.

“Have a seat,” the detective opened the door and stepped to the side to let us in before him. I walked in, Peter followed. It looked like an office, one small window, a large metal desk, a few plastic chairs. “Excuse the…condition. It’s all they could give me on such short notice.” I nodded and took a seat on the outside of the desk as the detective squeezed behind the desk to the swivel chair. Peter grabbed a chair and pulled it next to me.

The detective grunted and typed a few things on his keyboard, I looked down at my lap. My hands had scrapes on them, and there was blood under my nails. I gritted my teeth and tucked my hands between my thighs.

“Mrs. Clemons, I have the statement here you gave the police at the hospital, but I’d really like you to go over it again, one more time. I just want to make sure we aren’t missing anything. Even the smallest detail can be a big help.” I saw Peter look over at me when the detective mentioned the hospital, I grimaced. It seemed like it would all get worse before it got better.

I tried to think back to leaving the bar with Tori. I was so drunk, and she was too, we stumbled out laughing. We only left because we called a ride when we were on our last drink, and the ride update said they would be arriving any minute. I kept thinking back, trying to grasp as much detail as I could, and relaying it to the detective who was typing as I spoke. When I finished, I covered my face and leaned forward.

“Is there anything else you can tell me?” I thought back again, flying through the night, shaking my head no.

“Wait, he had a sticker on his car. It was the Blue rideshare sticker. That’s why I didn’t think anything was off.” The detective’s eyes widened.

“A blue sticker? Did it look something like this?” He pulled a photo from a folder on his desk and pushed it towards me. I nodded. “This is an old sticker from the company.” Peter leaned forward.

“Is this, like, a real case? You said killer earlier. What’s going on?” The detective looked at me, I nodded, also wanting more of an explanation than “possible killer”.

“We’ve had reports of people taking rideshares and disappearing. A few have been found,” Peter and I looked at each other then back at the detective. “Not, alive, unfortunately. In fact, we haven’t come across a living person that’s ridden with him. Just reports from eyewitnesses of the vehicle they saw. The only pattern seeming to be the ID sticker from the company being expired. That’s why you” the detective nodded his head at me. “Are very important right now. You might be the only person that’s escaped from him.”

His words were like a weighted blanket. Suddenly I felt like an obligation had been thrown at me, some sort of responsibility and my stomach lurched. I hardly got a look at the man, and I was drunk, everything was so chaotic it was like a bad dream. I didn’t give him anything useful.

My shoulders slumped. Why had I panicked so quickly? If only I had done something different, anything, maybe I could have crashed the car. I could have helped stop all of this. My life was taking a weird soap opera turn, everything was in flames, but the world went on living. I had somehow taken a passenger seat in my life and things were just…happening. I wasn’t doing anything, things were just happening to me, around me. When had I become so stationary?

“Thank you, Mrs. Clemons for coming down. If you don’t mind, I may find it necessary to reach out to you again in the future.” I nodded.

“Of course, anything I can do.” He smiled and stood from his desk and walked out back out to the lobby. When he opened the door, his name was called.

“Detective Buchanan, Mr. Woods is here for his statement.”

My heart stopped, and it felt like time stilled for a moment. I pulled my cardigan around my body and turned, instantly locking eyes with Cliff. He looked at me, only for a moment. He greeted the detective and they spoke quietly. I was anxious. We were being escorted out so that he could be escorted in. What if I never see him again? Why does that even matter? I bit my lip and swallowed.

I saw Cliff nod and follow the detective in our direction. Panic. Panic. Panic.

“How do you feel this morning?” Cliff asked as he approached. His eyes were on me, unwavering. I smiled. It was hard not to.

“I think worse. But I still owe you my gratitude.” It looked like for a second, he smiled. But his face corrected quickly as Peter interjected.

“I’m Peter, her husband. Nice to meet you.” Cliff looked behind me, where Peter stood at my back. I tried not to twinge, a wife grimacing away from her husband was never a good look.

“A husband?” Cliff looked back at me. “Why didn’t you call your husband?” I could feel Peter tense at my side and could hear that he had no words, they were running from him at full speed. I shrugged,

“He was on a date last night; I didn’t want to interrupt.” Cliff rose a brow and looked back over to Peter, the detective’s jaw hung open. Peter looked at me with wide eyes and nostrils flared, but I smiled. “Oh honey, God forbid the detective from five minutes ago know we’re poly.” I laughed and gave him a nudge as I walked towards the exit.

I would pay for that one later, but I didn’t care. I had pain killers to pick up from the pharmacy and a shower to take. He could pout to his girlfriend.

After a brief argument with Peter, I had him drop me off at my car. I don’t think either of us cared about what we were arguing over. It was a lot of accusations and unheard feelings, on both ends. But I wasn’t in the mood to be a therapist. I wasn’t in the mood to try, again, to guide us back on the right path. It seemed like he was determined to veer away.

After picking up my prescription from the pharmacy I went home and took a long shower. It was painful and not as relaxing as I had hoped, I didn’t feel dirty at least. But what I saw in the bathroom mirror couldn’t be washed off in the shower. I had a bruise on my jaw, scratches on the bridge of my nose, and my eyes were so red and puffy. I looked like hell.

“Jesus, is this what I’ve looked like all day?” I walked away from the mirror and padded to the bedroom, towel securely wrapped. I had to apply fresh bandages before I dressed and then I was clear. I could finally lay down. Just as I settled into bed, dry, wrapped and dressed, I heard the front door. I waited. There was some shuffling and the sound of keys being dropped on a table. I heard his steps as he ascended the stairs, they weren’t heavy.

When I looked to the doorway, a bouquet of flowers was displayed, pink and yellow. What he always got me.

“I’m sorry,” he said from outside of the room, he slowly peeked his head in. “After what happened to you, we shouldn’t be arguing about anything. Let’s start over.” He walked in and extended the flowers to me. I accepted them.

It was like us. To get upset and then apologize later. It didn’t bother me. Everyone messed up and did things they wish they hadn’t, but him being able to admit his mistake was something to appreciate. He leaned down and kissed me on my forehead, and it felt like before. I wondered if everything would be okay again, after that.

And for a little bit, it was. He helped change my bandages, helped me pack our lunches, did a few dishes, even remembered to take out the trash without me asking, once. The store runs he did were all disasters, my list wasn’t specific enough for him, but he tried. And I didn’t know which was worse. Him not trying, or him trying. They both left me feeling empty. Getting me the flowers I’ve said I don’t like, picking up the wrong milk, doing all of the laundry as one mega load and starting a mini flood in the laundry room while also running colors together. But it was the effort that counted, right?

I returned to work after one week, and by the second week had mostly healed. The road rash didn’t go through several layers of my skin, and the scarring was estimated to be minimal. Tori had checked in on me, to the chagrin of Peter. He side eyed her and she returned it, but it never went beyond that. After some time, Peter told me he had planned a date since I seemed to be doing fine on my feet, I was almost relieved. His presence around the house was overbearing and chaotic.

He moved things, broke things, burned things, and always seemed to say the wrong thing. I was struggling to figure out if the behavior was newly developed, or just new to me. Either way, the break was a relief. Free babysitting. It would give me time to start the book Tori had given me. I almost forgot about it, but when I returned to work, I saw it sitting in my bag when I was looking for my work ID.

When I arrived home, I was surprised to see Peter still there, he usually left early when he had plans. But when I walked inside, he was sitting casually on the couch, flipping through tv channels. I took a small detour and greeted him with a kiss before I went to our bedroom. I was ready to get work off of me and relax. I dropped my bags on the bedroom floor and kicked off my heels, sighing in relief when my feet touched flat ground.

“Long day?’ I jumped. Peter had come upstairs and was leaning against the doorframe to the bedroom. I nodded.

“Yea, I’m looking forward to starting my book tonight.” I piled my hair on top of my head and grabbed a clip from the dresser.

“Book?” Peter asked. I nodded as I worked on unclasping my bracelet.

“Tori loaned it to me, said it’s really good.” Peter snorted.

“I’m sure her recommendation will be intellectually enthralling.” I didn’t respond. “I thought we could spend tonight together. Watch a movie or something.” I paused just as I touched the top button on my blouse and turned towards him.

“You have a date tonight.” I stated, but he shrugged and straightened his position.

“I cancelled. Is that a problem? I’d hate to come between you and your slutty friend from college.” I dropped my hand to my side, shaking my head.

“Tori isn’t your friend, she’s mine. And she’s for me to like, not you.” I turned away and walked into the master bathroom, I could hear Peter following me. “I don’t like your friends and you don’t hear me talking about them like that.”

“What?” Peter was aghast. “You don’t like MY friends? Who?” I shook my head as I rested my hands on the counter, staring down at the white surface. “No, seriously who is it? I can’t wait to hear this logic.” I turned on him. I could feel my nostrils flaring, my eyes were wild, and my voice was so loud, and shrill.

“Any of them! They’re all awful men. I didn’t like them in high school either but there was hope they could grow out of it. But they didn’t! They’re just shitty, misogynistic, ableist, assholes! But I don’t tell you that because it doesn’t matter. They aren’t my friends they’re yours, and you’re the one that has to spend time with them, not me. So, fuck off about Tori! Don’t talk about her like that to me, around me, and don’t let me hear about it.” I shoved past him and stormed to where I had dropped my bag moments earlier.

It was obvious the relaxing evening I had planned for myself wasn’t going to happen. I sat on the bed, slipped my heels back on, and grabbed my purse. I was walking towards the stairs when Peter grabbed my arm, pulling back.

“Corrie, jesus where are you going?” But I pulled my arm away and continued to the steps. He pushed past me and blocked my path with his hands out, trying to touch my shoulders. I moved away. “I canceled my date to stay with you.”

“I’m going out. And I never asked you to cancel anything.” I went to move by him, but he blocked me again.

“You’re not.” He said, crossing his arms. I scoffed.

“You can’t keep me here!” I stomped my foot, and my hands were balled into fists.

“The hell I can’t. You’re my wife and you’re upset. You almost got yourself killed once, I’d rather it not become a habit.” I crossed my arms as I clenched my jaw and switched my weight to my other foot. I saw Peter relax, just slightly, and I darted through his open side. Ducking beneath his grasp I slipped by and ran down the steps, hoping I didn’t break an ankle. Peter was right behind me.

As soon as I touched the floor he was at my back. He snagged my purse from me, and I jerked trying to keep hold of it, but it slipped right down my arm. I whipped on him, breathing heavily.

“Give me my fucking purse!”

“Fine.” Peter smiled smugly as he pulled my keys from my bag and tossed it towards my extended hand. I accepted the purse but tossed it on the dining room table. I extended my hand again.

“Give. Me. My. Keys.” I spoke carefully, trying not to scream, to cuss, I just wanted to leave. The situation was out of hand. Peter dangled the keys and turned away. I didn’t think. I dove after him, clawing at his hand. He held them in the air and pushed me back with his other hand. “Fuck it!” I turned and grabbed my bag and stormed to the door. I heard Peter behind me begin running, and I did too.

I made it to the door before him and ripped it open. I pushed the screen door and flew out from the house. He wouldn’t make a scene, there’s no way he would risk it. We have too many neighbors. I was wrong.

I felt his arm wrap around my waist, and I was lifted from the ground. I kicked and screamed, clawed at his arms, demanding to be let go. He held me tighter and walked us back to the front door.

“You’re being fucking psycho!” He screamed at me as I fought him.

“I am not! I’m allowed to leave, Peter!” I fought as hard as I could, I even lost a shoe on the front lawn. But he pulled me back inside and slammed the door behind us. We ran in a maze.

Every door I tried, he blocked, every window, he was there. I felt panicked. We were screaming, and I was running, knocking things over, even throwing things at him. Anything to get him to leave me alone. Anything so I could just get away. I felt trapped, and the house felt too small to be inside, but I wasn’t fast enough.

I didn’t know how long it would last, it felt like an endless cycle. Until there was a series of loud bangs on our front door. We both went silent, catching our breath and staring towards the hallway. The bangs sounded again and then a voice.

“Sheriffs department!”

#original story #part 3 #dark romance #My writing #writeblr #readers of tumblr #romance readers #greener #polyamarous #suspense #corrie and cliff #Errotica #women writers #women

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