The Tyrant's Trophy

Maybell

I couldn’t help, but squirm on the couch Adam Carter offered to me. When Aaron told me the boss wanted to speak with me, my heart clenched.

Adam Carter: everybody buzzed about him within the hotel. It was well-known how strict he was. Everything we say or do get reported to him. So when he asked for me by name, I thought of any reason why that would happen.

I’m still fairly new to this place and had some accidents - like last week. I had knocked over an expensive glass of chardonnay - given one coworker had tripped me - I had still been scolded for it. Believing that was the reason, I knocked, dreading the words “You’re fired.” from the boss’ lips.

“Come in,” Came out a grunt. Slowly, I entered. “Maybell,” Mr. Carter stood up and walked around his desk to shake my hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you; I’m Adam Carter.”

Though his voice rang off as pleasant and straightforward, I couldn’t bring myself to meet his gaze. His firm grip made me want to retract my hand and shield myself - the way I used to with Phil.

Yet, I forced myself to shake back.

I tried focusing on anything else but flashbacks of my husband, but it didn’t help. Adam Carter had many awards lined across his walls - everything was neat and in order...like Phil’s house. I began wondering how the house was now that I’ve been gone. If it remained spotless and organized or did Phil tear it apart without me there?

He had a habit of doing those sorts of things.

Making messes and letting me clean them up.

After Carter led me to the seating area in his office, he offered me a bottle of water. After he handed me it, he sat in the armchair across from me. “How are you enjoying working here?” Here we go, I thought bitterly.

He’s going to fire me because I’m no good. Maybe Phil was right after all: I’m useless. As if my fists had minds of their own, they clenched around the bottle. I hate these memories: the way Phil’s voice drips in my mind - like a slow pour of coffee. If Mr. Carter is going to fire me, he should do it faster. “Am I in trouble?”

The boss gave me a baffled expression. He furrowed his eyebrows in an angry way - at least it seemed angry to me. I covered my mouth, shocked by the bitter tone that came out. I had never spoken so angrily with anybody in my life and for it to be my boss - I am definitely going to be unemployed.

“I’m sorry,” I fumbled an apology, hoping to make up for my rotten attitude. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You’re not in trouble,” Mr. Carter assured. I peered up at the man. Those brows were still scrunched up but there was confusion in those emerald green eyes, not anger. “I actually wanted to thank you.”

Now, I was lost. “For what? I haven’t done anything.”

“You saved my marriage.”

My eyes felt like they were going to fall out of my sockets. “How?” Did I hear him right or have I finally lost all sanity?

“Your third week here, you spoke to a woman at the bar. She is my wife.” The man smiled, recalling something sweet.

However, my mind was shattered. Daphnie Carter; she’s the boss’ wife. The wife NO ONE is allowed to speak to unless taking their order in the safety of their private area. I talked with Daphnie Carter... “I had no idea.” I tried defending myself. “What was she doing at the public bar? I thought you had your own private booth,” I felt my words tumble out into a giant mush.

Adam Carter’s chuckle silenced me. “You not knowing my wife was helpful. She was able to get everything off her chest without worrying about tarnishing my reputation.”

An “Oh,” was all I managed to muster before my boss spoke again.

“We’ve been separated for several months,” He explained, with a guilty expression. “Because of your conversation with her, she came back to me. We talked things out and now we’re making amends and moving forward with our marriage.” Though a smile bloomed across his face towards the end, the guilt remained in the creases around his eyes. Ironically, Adam now seemed younger with that expression.

Sort of like a child who seemed...lost and afraid.

Daphnie is a lucky woman to have found someone like Adam. Though I still don’t know the whole story I can tell that Adam was reflective and point-blank, even in the unknown. For the one he loved, he’ll walk forward instead of back.

Would my child have turned out like that?

One that loved unconditionally?

“Th-that’s wonderful.” My throat felt tight as thoughts of Phil flittered in my mind and worse yet, my baby. I want Phil and my marriage to be redeemable. I longed to have someone love me truly...why couldn’t I have that? Still, I’m glad. I nodded to myself and gave a slow smile. If my years of suffering helped another couple to work through their issues, then...“I’m happy then. Truth be told, sir, your wife helped me more than she knows too.”

“Really? How so?”

Where do I begin?

Shyly, I scratched my arm, unsure of how to express myself. “I’ve sort of been in denial with my own marriage. I, uh, struggle with a lot of blame...if it’s my fault things turned out the way they did. If that relationship is even salvageable. My friend told me I should go to group therapy and open up about it but I couldn’t bring myself to. I thought that if I went to therapy for it, then it’s admitting everything that happened and I don’t know how I can take the anger I feel, remembering.”

My body shook ad that anger boiled; it started in my stomach, churning and nauseous. Then it goes to my head, making me light and fuzzy. When I look back, I want to scream and break something. I want someone to hurt like me. Then, I woke up as if that anger was just a brief nightmare. Shaking it away, I confessed, “Your marriage showed me that mine was never genuine and I can admit that now. I’m going to start therapy too in a church.”

Just as Mr. Carter was going to respond, the door burst open. Chad came running in as if he was on a mission. I jumped a foot in the air when he did.

“What has gotten into you?” Carter demanded as he stood up with clenched fists. I just looked between the men, wary.

He looked between Carter and me; mouth opening and closing as if he were a fish. Composing himself, he said, “I’m here to pick up Maybell, sir. I couldn’t find her, and so I thought I would inform you. I apologize.”

It was odd hearing Chad talk that way; he was slightly different when it was just him and me. “You two know each other?” I asked, confused.

Chad cleared his throat and said, “Maybell, this is my boss. He’s the one investigating your husband.”

I thought I caught whiplash by how fast my head spun in my boss’s direction.

“YOU’RE THE ONE!” I shouted, surprising the three of us. Without thinking, I came up to him and grabbed his hands in mine. “Thank you!” Gratitude could not begin to describe how I felt. “So you know what he did?” He nodded, causing me to burst into tears. “thank you.”

He removed his hands from mine and patted me back. “We’re doing everything we can to expose your husband, Mrs. Sweetheart.” He assured me as he signaled Chad to escort me home. “And thank you again for being a listening ear for my wife and bringing her back to me.”

As Chad grabbed my shoulders, there was one last thing I wanted to ask. “My baby! Do you know what Phil did to my baby?” The two men stiffened and glanced at one another. “Please,” I begged, longing to know. “I don’t know what he did to kill her...I was forbidden by the court to attend her funeral.” My cries became unintelligible sobs at that point on.

I lay on my bed, staring at the photograph Chad retrieved for me. I had taken it when I was in my last trimester. My stomach was huge: I wasn’t able to look down at my legs or toes. It was actually painful. My ankles were swollen and it got hard to breathe, but I was excited. I truly wanted to be a mommy.

I wanted that baby girl.

I loved her.

She was the reason I wanted to live.

My reason to exist.

When she died, I think I fell asleep in a way. Everything just blurred; the days would seep into one another and there was no recollection of time. The world sped up and I slowed down, almost becoming frozen. I needed a reason to exist again; some sort of excuse to continue living...and so I clung to Phil.

Now, I’m seeing just how wrong that was: Making Phil my everything was the same as signing my soul to hell. Now I’m free...but I still feel trapped.

There’s this sense of dread, I can’t shake.

This part of myself that feels like she’s standing on some cliff’s edge and she’s waiting...she’s waiting for someone to walk up behind her, place their hand on her back, and without warning, push her into the blackness below.

Chad didn’t tell me about my baby, though, it can’t be his fault. He found documents of everything Phil did to me (though he wouldn’t go into details with that too) but not what he’s done to my daughter.

As much as it hurt my heart to not have that closure, I put my trust in Chad. He promised to protect me and he’s been so gentle to me. Surely, when he uncovers what my baby went through, he’ll tell me. I can trust Chad.

It made it easier to let him go to his meeting. I didn’t want to be left with five strangers while Chad left but I know it was important, so I didn’t protest. Chad wouldn’t let any of his men harm me. Still, I didn’t like being with strangers - it made me jittery. So while they stayed in the apartment, I locked myself in my room. Abijah was at the meeting as well and Basil was working in his office today: he had a bunch of meetings he said.

Feeling nauseous and a wee light-headed, I decided to get off my bed and take a bath. It made me glad to know I had a bathroom connected to my room, so I simply undressed and headed in there. While the tub filled, I allowed myself to glance at my belly. It pains me to look at the faint scar that marred my caramel skin, but since getting the photo back, I couldn’t, not look.

“The scar would have been worthed if it meant she was here.” I sighed, imagining what it would have been like to hold her in my arms. By now she would have been a year and six months...she would have been walking and garbling out incoherent words that I wouldn’t understand but would have contributed to anyways.

My skin began feeling itchy as I imagined the possibilities. The hole is still here, in my chest, but like the tub, it’s being filled. Sitting in the hot water, I touched my scar, tracing it lightly up and down, fascinated by the grim events that had taken my sweet angel away.

Soon, the scar felt like a badge of some sort: Something that called me to a higher place than the dirt, Phil left me in. That blackness sizzled within me, singing beautifully - reminding me of every affliction that man placed on my back. Try as I might, I couldn’t turn away from the abyss...part of me doesn’t want to.

I...I want Phil to pay.

I want him to go through the same pain I endured.

I want to break him as he did to me.

Only, I want Phil to stay broken.

That itchy sensation seeped into my bones, making every fiber of my being twitch as if each limb had a mind of its own. Just as the sensations came, they went, waking me from the dark lull of my mind. I found myself lying too long in the tub, unable to hold my breath underwater any longer. Sitting back up, I gulped in the air, allowing my lungs to work again. When had I laid down?

From outside, I heard Chad come in, greeting his men.

How long was I in the bath?