The Tree of Knowledge

Dinner was a farce of a happy family. Ryan smacked Rebecca with a wooden kitchen spoon because the food was cold. Mara cried silently throughout while holding ice to her split lip. Nobody really ate much, besides Ryan, who shoveled chicken kiev and gouda mac and cheese into his mouth with gusto.

Ryan opted to sleep in my room tonight. Probably because I was the only one he hadn’t hit today. Or maybe he was determined to put a baby in me next. The baby monitor went into Rebecca’s room.

He fucked me from behind, going in dry, but coming mercifully quick.

I lie in bed with him, naked, perfectly still.

I’m only screaming on the inside.

I just don’t think I can take this anymore. If I could just get out of the house, maybe I could keep it together. If I could step outside the front door occasionally, it might stop me from wanting to run out it.

I hate being naked in front of him. I hate the way he looks at me. I get out of bed, meaning to slip on my nightgown. He watches me, eyes roving over my body. It makes my skin crawl.

But in a sudden flash of inspiration, it gives me an idea. I stop in front of the full-length mirror, posing for him there.

“You’re right.” I say.

“What am I right about?”

“I am getting fat.”

I do my best to pinch a roll of fat on my stomach. There isn’t much there to pinch.

“See?”

“Its Rebecca’s cooking.” Ryan says.

“Its Rebecca’s cooking.” I agree. “But I also don’t get any exercise any more. I used to be really active.”

I turn to face him, legs apart, one hand on my hip, posing, forcing myself not to recoil under his gaze.

“I used to ride my bike everywhere. It really helped keep my thighs toned. Burn off those pesky calories.”

In truth, I rode my bike everywhere because it was fun, and because I didn’t have a car or a driver’s license yet. I’ve never spared a thought to the calories I consume in my life.

“What if you got me a bike? I just want to look good for you.”

Ryan considers it.

“It’s dangerous outside the house.”

“Not if I wear my wedding ring. Please?”

I smile as prettily as I can manage.

“No.” Ryan says. “I don’t want you going outside. I want you all to myself. Come back to bed.”

I dutifully obey, crawling into bed. He pulls me close to him, his head resting against my small breasts.

“Besides,” he says, “you’re not that fat.”