My Butterfly

By SJ Byrne

Love twisted enough to kill. Desire darker than death.

A good southern wife honors and obeys. Katherine Daniels had vowed to do that, but when her marriage turned deadly she had no choice but to get out. Her survival depended on it.

Fleeing to her family’s native Scotland, the majestic beauty of the land, and fierce spirit of its people, ignited within Katherine an artistic talent abandoned in the wake of her husband’s cruelty. But within the light a darkness lingers, taunting her.

Finding love wasn’t part of the plan. Can an impassioned Scotsman handle the lurid secrets of Katherine’s past? Or will he unwittingly destroy her fragile new existence?

If you relish the way Nicholas Sparks delves into life on the North Carolina coast while weaving a tale of healing the heart and crave a love story with a twist of darkness by the likes of E.L James, you’ll devour this emotionally gripping romance by SJ Byrne.

Purchase My Butterfly and witness one woman’s emergence from a dark night of the soul.

***Warning***
This book contains intense scenes of physical and mental abuse. It also explores sexual themes of a taboo nature. Please do NOT purchase this eBook if you find such content disturbing or offensive. However, if you enjoy a story that deals with deep-seated issues, healing past hurts, and the positive transformation that ensues, please purchase this riveting tale!

• Language: English
• Publisher: SJ Byrne
• Release date: Aug 20, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465975447

Book preview

Chapter 1

Katherine stood in their vandalized kitchen and knew Jessup had let his volatile temper get the best of him.

Once stacked in neat piles beside the sink, breakfast dishes, still covered with maple syrup, lay strewn across the counter with visible cracks and chips at the edges. A gaping hole where the junk drawer lived stared at her in open-mouthed horror, its contents littering the floor. Clean laundry, left in neat stacks on the table to be put away, now lay haphazardly around the room. Pieces of ripped lingerie hung over chair backs. Expensive shirts lay in a mud-stomped mess.

Oh God, Momma! Ruthie entered the house on her mother's heels. What's happened? Have we been robbed?

No. With a sadness borne of violent repetition, Katherine turned to their single child, knowing the worst was yet to come.

We've not been robbed. It's your father. The rational fear in her daughter’s eyes slowly shifted until they had become flat and unreadable. I want you to go to the Shelby's house and call the authorities. Don't come back until the cops have arrived.

4Runner keys pressed into the palm of Ruthie’s hand, Katherine shoved her out the back door, away from the coming storm. She didn't leave the haven of the broken doorway until the engine revved to life, followed by the crunch of gravel beneath its tires.

Turning around, she came face to face with the eye of a hurricane.

Did you do this? Taking a deep breath, she crossed both arms over her chest to cover the visible pounding of her heart.

Where were you? Dark brown eyes narrowed on her.

Low and ominous, his tone sent shivers of dread down her spine, but resolve held it perfectly straight as she stepped closer to the storm.

"Did you do this?" Arm sweeping out to encompass the surrounding disaster. Her voice betrayed nothing of the fear rolling in waves beneath the rush of anger.

WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? Rage contorted once handsome features into twisted lines of disgust and cruelty.

Spit sprayed her in the face, his bellow reverberating around them. Chin lifted in defiance, she widened her stance and planted both feet seconds before his hand sliced through the air and connected with the soft skin of her cheek. The blow echoed like a whip crack, and the force caused her vision to blur with unshed tears.

All the raw emotion suddenly dissipated and her heart found a steady pace. Katherine pushed the loosened hair out of her eyes and stared at the man she'd vowed to love till death do us part. If she made it out alive, she would leave and never look back.

"Do you really think I would let you go? You'll walk out of this house when I say you can, and that will never happen."

Jessup wrapped a meaty fist in the waist-length strands he’d demanded she keep. His other hand grabbed her wrist and, with a vicious twist, pushed the arm behind her back. The movement forced Katherine to her knees, threatening to break the limb through her own resistance.

Undo my jeans you fucking whore.

No.

The one-word denial accomplished more than a thousand of her kisses ever had. In detached fascination, she watched through a tangled mass as the front of his jeans pulled tight against a sudden erection. Her defiance ignited his demented passion, making him rock hard, but the look on his face made her skin crawl.

Jessup let go of the arm in order to wrap both hands in a tight grip against her scalp. Beautiful tresses became painful leverage when he jerked Katherine to her feet and bent her back over the kitchen counter, a cruel smile twisting his lips.

Strong feminine fists flailed at him, but their tangled position made it impossible for her blows to land anywhere crucial. He pressed forward and rendered her powerful legs useless when his mouth crushed hers.

Heavy hands twisted painfully in the silken strands, bringing tears to her eyes. The rough edge of the unfinished granite countertop cut into her back as Jessup ground his jean-covered erection against her lower body.

When he shoved his tongue into her throat, she inhaled through her nose and sank her teeth deep. The coppery tang of blood made her gag. His yelp of pain brought a moment of satisfaction before he delivered a blow that sent her flying across the room.

Katherine’s slender shoulders slammed into the solid legs of an antique oak table they’d gotten from his grandparents for their fifth anniversary. Back aching, and scalp burning as though he had set it on fire, her head throbbed with every heartbeat. Top lip curling, he stepped forward, and she glared in open hostility.

One dainty ankle held firmly in his grasp, Jessup pulled her out from under the table. The material of her skirt slid higher to expose bare knees and thighs. Thick fingers dug into her tender flesh and she knew he couldn't wait to see the bruises that would later mark her as his.

He hauled her body over cold ceramic tiles, chuckling when she frantically pushed both palms against the floor in a futile effort. Katherine kicked at him with her free foot, and his mocking laughter echoed off the walls.

On her back, she slid through the entryway to their bedroom, grabbing onto the door frame with a frantic grip. Jessup continued pulling, and her battered muscles strained against the pressure. Long slender fingers clawed at the smooth painted wood, causing the enamel to chip and splinters to embed beneath well cared for nail beds. Grasp lost on the aged timber, Katherine clenched her jaw and kicked out.

Such a little bitch you are! Staring at the naked flesh of her thighs, Jessup massaged his crotch. I'm going to enjoy breaking that pussy of yours. When I'm done with you, no one will want you.

A painful twist of her foot forced Katherine onto her stomach, and she screamed in fury while he laughed at her predicament. In a single heartbeat, he straddled her hips, knees digging into her sides. A fist wound slowly into her hair and pulled back until her upper body arched painfully off the rug-covered ground.

Thick nails scratched the inside of her thighs when his fingers shoved under the hem of her skirt. Skin crawling from his touch, she struggled to displace him with a violent buck of her hips. Jessup removed the hand from within her skirt and an unmistakable scrape of metal on metal followed when he lowered the zipper of his jeans.

Do you want to know what I'm going to do to you? His voice was rough, the sound barely more than an over-excited whisper.

I couldn't care less. She thrashed beneath him, but all efforts to dislodge him just wedged his erection against the rounded curve of her ass. A dawning realization that her struggles did more harm than good forced her into absolute stillness.

Jessup sat motionless above her and she struggled to remain calm, listening for clues to reveal his intentions. Her imagination went into overdrive when she perceived the faint sound of a man pleasuring himself, and an idea took form.

Through a series of deep breaths, she gathered her courage. She counted from one to ten and inhaled slowly before allowing a muffled giggle to slip from between tightly compressed lips. The titter lasted a few seconds before she hesitated and listened.

When she began again, louder than before, he tugged viciously on the thick strands of unbound hair. Katherine bit her lip to keep from crying out and concentrated on laughing as he yanked small handfuls from her badly abused scalp.

What are you shrieking about, whore?

When she didn't answer right away, Jessup flipped Katherine onto her back and sat on her chest, knees pinning her elbows to the floor. Unrestrained, his erection bumped against her chin.

WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING AT!

Katherine watched him glance at his engorged member and then her mouth, eyes narrow with unabated lust. Both of his fists clamped onto her ears and he pulled until the tip pushed against her tightly sealed lips. She tittered from behind the blockade of clenched teeth. The foreign sound morphed into a snigger before turning into a never-ending round of cackles. Her laughter became louder and stronger, forcing any remaining fear to vanish.

Snorts of hilarity bubbled through her chest. Katherine had almost convinced herself the situation was a laughing matter when Jessup demanded she stop the nonsense and behave like a normal victim by thumping her skull on the floor. Eyes full of ridicule, she guffawed at the drooping weapon gripped in his fist.

What's the matter, Jessup? Her giddiness mocked him, and her body convulsed with demented mirth. Having technical difficulties?

The second the words came out, Katherine realized she had made a colossal mistake by pushing that button.

Jessup slammed her head again, insisting his erection was just fine, vowing she would soon feel it tear her open. He continued to rage until her vision turned fuzzy around the edges and something snapped within.

Faint, mocking laughter became malicious, rolling in never-ending waves, contorting beautiful features into a mask of pure madness. He slapped her several more times, taking his frustration out on her face. When he stopped, she could taste blood from where sharp teeth had cut into the tender inside of her cheek.

Erection gone limp and hanging out of his jeans, Jessup jumped to his feet. Fist wrapped in the material of her blouse, he hauled Katherine off the ground and launched her across the area with the flat of his hand.

Head throbbing, with a nose that had to be twice its normal size, and a spirit nearly broken from the continued violence against it, Katherine pulled air deep into her lungs. She placed both hands flat on the floor and pushed her battered body to stand before him. Defiance lifted her chin, and she managed one last snicker, aimed at his unmistakable ineptitude.

Jessup snarled and lunged to punch her in the stomach.

Long untainted locks of tangled hair fanned the air in a cascade of silk as she collapsed in a heap. He twisted the strands around his fist and used them to haul her from the room, laughing spitefully when her head bounced off the doorjamb with a sickening crack.

He stormed into the family area and slung her over the back of the couch. Rough hands shoved aside the tattered remains of her skirt. With her face shoved into fluffy cushions, Katherine struggled to breathe. His flaccid member, solid once again, pushed against her buttocks through the thin feminine undergarment that he tore from her body.

In a last-ditch effort, she bucked high in the air and kicked him square in the groin with both heels. Jessup grunted before he flipped her feet over her head and off the couch, onto the hardwood floor.

Faint sirens in the distance moved closer, and Katherine sighed, getting to her knees. Before she could look up, he smacked out with the back of his fist. Ears ringing, the world turned black as she crashed into the glass-top coffee table.

Chapter 2

Every day, Ruthie spent hours sitting by her mother's hospital bed, watching and waiting for any spark of life. Every day she left with a heavy heart, shoulders sagging low.

The nurses worried about her, such a beautiful young woman, they whispered behind closed doors, intelligent and funny. She'd shown bits of humor in the early days, but found no reason to laugh as time passed without a change in Katherine’s status.

Months went by and the hospital staff bore witness to her mind unraveling; sanity frayed by immense grief.

She made a noise! Ruthie shrieked. She's waking up. Let me call you back!

Ruthie jumped out of her seat beside the large hospital bed where her mother had lain in a vegetative state for nearly three months. She fought a rush of tears and grabbed Katherine's hand a bit too quickly.

Focused on her mother’s face, she swore there had been a slight fluttering of eyelids and lashes against the paleness of her cheeks. Ruthie dared to hope for a miracle. Breath held, she sent a silent plea to a God she had put little faith in. Tears fell freely when the whites of her parent’s eyes flashed from beneath lids closed for too long.

Momma?

The ragged whisper was deafening compared to the slight whirring and beeping of life support machines.

I know you can hear me, Momma. It's ok to come back. He can't hurt you anymore. Ruthie beseeched her mother to rejoin the realm of the living.

Whether the pressure against her fingers was real or imagined, Ruthie knew genuine fear when she glanced out the door of the private hospital room at a small knot of doctors talking and looking in Katherine's direction.

The tone of her pleas became urgent. Patting her mother’s hand insistently, Ruthie begged her mom to snap out of it.

Momma! Ruthie forced herself to quiet down to avoid attracting the unwanted attention. You have to wake up now. You’re out of time! They intend to pull the plug today!

Precious time slipped through her fingers and her movements grew aggressive when she grabbed her mother by the shoulders and gave a jarring shake.

Don't you dare leave me! I need you. Momma, please!

Two nurses from a station down the hall heard the heartbreak of Ruthie’s cries and came running into the room. Gentle arms of steel wrapped around her to pull her from her mother’s side while whispering words meant to comfort.

Noooooo! You can't take me from her! I need her! She's all I've got left!

Sturdy legs locked in place, Ruthie squirmed until she broke free of the women and ran back in to throw herself upon Katherine's' immobile body.

Momma, please. You don't understand!

Screams of desperation brought more nurses and a few patients wandering the halls in boredom. Ruthie fought them all like a wild animal, kicking and snapping her teeth at them while they pried at her arms, trying to drag her from the room.

Momma!!! Hot tears streamed down her cheeks to soak the hands of those that held her captive. For me, Momma, do it for me. I can't bear to live without you!

Three nurses hauled her towards the door, and breaking free again, Ruthie managed one last burst of defiance.

Mommmmaaaaaa! Her shrieking battered every heart in the hospital wing. Not an eye in the hall remained dry. In silence, they watched her desperately fight for a life that had all but abandoned the confines of a broken body.

Hearty wails subsided into hoarse whispers from a throat that could no longer sustain the violent vibrations ripping through. A nurse pried Ruthie's fingers from the bars of Katherine's bed, and she murmured a last appeal before giving into despair.

Momma, she muttered through cracked lips, if you don't come back now, they will unplug you and I'll never see you again. I'll never hug you.

The newest nurse on duty entered the room, took a single look at the desperate teen and pulled her into a pair of capable arms. The two women shook as one. Ruthie's sobs tore through them both, her tears soaking the woman’s bright blue scrubs in large patches. Uncontrollable spasms of grief forced them into a heap on the floor, where Ruthie rested her head against the other woman's breast as they rocked gently back and forth.

An imperceptible nod signaled the other nurses to remove the crush of patients and onlookers from the hall beyond the door. Less than thirty seconds after the room had cleared, Katherine groaned from above them.

Ruthie leapt from her haven to find Katherine's eyes were wide open and wracked with agony.

Momma?

Thinking to soothe her mother, Ruthie reached out her hand, and Katherine emitted an ear-piercing scream. Lost somewhere in the past, her gaze remained locked on the ceiling above without seeing her true surroundings.

You have your miracle, Ruthie. The nurse placed both hands on Ruthie's shoulders and guided her away. She's chosen to come back to you, and only God knows if her mind can handle the trauma of her body.

In no shape to argue, Ruthie allowed the attendant to lead her out of the room and down the hall to the vending area. She placed a steaming cup of coffee and a snack of chips and cookies on the table in front of her; she had no stomach for food but took the offering with a nod of thanks.

By obeying the order to sit tight and let the doctors do their work, she received a hug of encouragement before the nurse raced back the way they’d come.

Head buried in her hands, Ruthie gave in to weariness and frustration, her constant companions for the last three months. Shoulders shaking, hot tears made puddles of salt upon a ghastly green table top.

Please, God, she implored the estranged entity for the second time that day, please help her get through this.

Long after midnight, exhaustion forced her body into a deep and troubled sleep.

White hot spasms shot through Katherine's rib cage, bitch slapping her back into consciousness. Pain snaked into her chest when she attempted to inhale, and brilliant light flashed behind her eyelids, making her gasp quietly through her teeth.

From somewhere outside herself came the distant rustling of her surroundings: rubber wheels turned on slick tiles that squeaked loud enough to hurt her ears, while hushed words echoed along the hall, bringing emotions of overwhelming grief to an unseen listener. A familiar voice spoke to her left, poking and prodding at her memory before slicing through the fog surrounding all conscious thought.

Ruthie!

The name struck out from within the darkness and smacked her hard in the brain.

A daughter.

HER daughter!

Memories of a rambunctious toddler growing into a vibrant young woman came flooding back. Emotion clogged her throat, silently choking her. She clung to every syllable pouring from her daughter's mouth; the words a lifeline pulling her to the shores of wakefulness. With each step forward into conscious awareness, she better understood the damaged state of her physical body.

It hurt to breathe.

It hurt to think.

It hurt to remember the misery of betrayal by one held so dear.

Heavy thoughts floated off into a darkness that waited to take her back. In the darkness, everything was easier. It was calm in the darkness. In that place, she felt nothing and cared for no one.

The desperate screams of her only child subsided into nearly silent pleas of anguish, and the darkness blew away like a flimsy mist.

Paralyzed by fear, Katherine stared at the stark white ceiling.

Afraid to move.

Afraid to speak.

Afraid any spark of life would bring back the terror of the last moment she remembered, Katherine opened her mouth and screamed out every bit of suffering she'd ever endured at the hands of her husband.

Awake from a three-month coma, Katherine slept for several days, stirring briefly to drift off moments later. The fourth day, she woke to find her daughter curled in an uncomfortably large chair at the foot of her bed. Ruthie's chest rose and fell as she slumbered, and Katherine couldn't help but feel proud of the woman she was growing into. Thoughts of what they had forced Ruthie to deal with throughout her life caused Katherine’s heart to ache; no child should know the suffering of domestic violence.

Eyes rolling to the left, she gazed out between the small slits of a partly open window shade. Clouds passed and covered the sun, cloaking the world beyond her hospital room in storm shadows. She lay still, staring out beyond the glass, asking herself why she was even alive.

What had pulled her from the threshold of oblivion?

Such questions didn’t need to be asked. The answer slept curled in a ball at her feet and she would do anything for her child; even come back from the brink of death.

Weary eyes slipped closed and sleep took control. Aware she was far from living, Katherine couldn't gather enough strength to face life head on. Several days passed, and she pulled out of her self-induced slumber to spend endless hours staring through the glass at nothing in particular.

Hospital staff replaced the life support machines with a portable television and DVD player. Ruthie watched movies while Katherine's gaze remained riveted on the world beyond her touch.

During the second week, a peal of laughter echoed off the walls, scaring Ruthie into dropping the heavy tome she read. She glanced around the room and turned to stare at her mother in shock and wonder. Katherine's hair had become a tangled mess, and she grinned from ear to ear, giggling at something only she could see.

Momma?

Oh, Ruthie! Katherine looked into the eyes of her child, forgetting violence had ever touched their lives. I saw the funniest thing!

Outside the window, a cat stalked an object in the gardens. Body low to the ground, the cat flicked its tail in excitement, its hind end wiggling and its ears twitching from the buzz of an unseen foe. Ready to pounce, the cat stayed in this position until suddenly, like lightning, it was off and running.

An upside-down bowl at the other side of the garden turned out to be the feisty felines target, but when the cat neared, the bowl lifted off the ground and a long rubbery neck struck out at a fuzzy paw. The bowl revealed itself to be a testy turtle as it gripped the cat’s paw during a brilliant defensive maneuver. The cat howled in pain before limping off to lick its wound, but the turtle had other ideas brewing. Once the cat settled, the turtle lifted its shell and moved closer to its unworthy opponent.

Not giving any attention to Turtle, Cat hadn't realized it had become prey until jaws clamped around its frantically flicking furry tail a second time. With a hiss, Cat took off in the opposite direction. Obviously not settling far enough away, the small bowl like creature continued stalking Cat throughout the garden; stupid felines always underestimate the tenacity of turtles.

Tired of the game, the fur ball gave in and scurried up a nearby tree, much to everyone's delight.

Something missing stirred within the shell of Katherine’s heart while she watched the animals. She couldn't name it. She just knew the glow, like a sparkle of dew on a tiny strand of spider web that tickled a memory. Without looking away from the resting turtle, she shared the thought.

Life is so very fragile. Most of the time we don't even realize how much until it's too damn late. She took no notice when Ruthie rose from her plastic chair and slipped around to sit beside Katherine’s knees. I recall seeing a similar web just outside the window. The smallest spider worked to build it up, and I thought how magnificent she was in her capabilities.

Katherine recounted how the spider moved easily and gracefully from one strand of the web to the next, never stepping on the delicate lines that would catch her in a trap of her own making.

Hours had flown by while she watched the spider weave its web. Home and dinner plate all in one. She dozed off while keeping vigil and the next time she gazed upon the web, a tiny centipede had gotten itself caught on several of the deadly silken strands.

Morbidly fascinated by the poor creature’s plight, Katherine stared in wonder as the centipede’s long body squirmed within the sticky confines, getting more stuck. Those chaotic actions attracted the spider’s attention, and it drifted to the edge of the death trap, where its lunch wriggled, trying to free itself.

The frustrated centipede didn't appear to notice the spider until a delicate leg stretched out to push on its body. The insect immediately writhed and squirmed harder than before, its tiny antennae waving wildly in the air. Seconds ticked by, and the spider struck out with its leg once again, sending the centipede into another round of panic induced seizures.

It had become obvious to Katherine that a death dance was occurring between the two insects. The spider backed up when the centipede writhed about helplessly, advancing only when its foe had weakened itself to deliver multiple pokes and jabs of a leg. Katherine wondered if spiders carried a form of poisonous venom in their limbs, so violent was the reaction of the trapped meal-to-be. She sympathized with tiny creature and wished her window opened, and she could release it from its bonds.

Eat or be eaten.

Stomach churning with horror, realization dawned that this was the way for all living creatures. Mentally detached from the scenario playing out, she watched everything unfold and recognized the parallels between her life and the poor centipedes.

Battered and beaten, she had fought insurmountable odds for her right to live, just like the centipede.

Sometimes you can't do anything about it. It's the way of the world that certain things have to die so that others may thrive. Katherine sent a small blessing of acknowledgment to the insect struggling through its last moments. She then added her own prayer of thanks for the chance to experience life like she'd never done before.

Free.

Ruthie, where is your father?

Chapter 3

Katherine held her breath and stared across the sterile sanctuary as Ruthie squared her shoulders for the unavoidable conversation. She told herself that no matter the outcome, everything would be okay.

He's in the county jail.

Such simple words, but they cut through the air like a butcher knife sinking into soft butter and Katherine's breath caught in her throat as their meaning slipped quietly into the conscious part of her brain.

The county jail.

Not at home.

Not at his mother's house, turning everyone against her with his vicious lies.

Not sitting in the hall, ready to throttle her once the doctors gave the OK for him to enter her room.

He was nowhere near.

He was in the county jail!

Katherine exhaled, fighting back the rush of emotion that filled her eyes with tears and burned deep in the bridge of her nose. Relief poured through like a ray of brilliant sunshine, and as her head fell against the pillows, she could finally relax from the tension held within her body.

Momma, you ok?

I'm fine, Ruthie. I had no idea how scared I was to know the answer to that question.

The end of the month had Katherine sitting up in bed without the aid of others, watching hours of mindless television, but at the close of every day, she was stir crazy with no clue what would cure the restlessness coursing through her.

Ruthie! Hand slamming down on the tiny table hanging over her midsection, Katherine suddenly understood what her bored mind had been trying to convey.

She directed her daughter to grab a notepad and pen from across the room, and began rattling off items to be gotten from a craft store: colored pencils, erasers, sketch pads, and charcoal were all on the list, and she wanted them yesterday! Credit card handed over, she could almost feel the smooth lines of a drawing pencil in her hand and the weight of a pad on her lap.

How long had it been since she held such items?

Too long!

Jessup hadn't appreciated her drawings and early in their marriage had demanded she give up sketching because it took her attention away from him.

Coward!

He never could stand anything that might outshine him in her eyes.

Sweetheart, you're awake!

The soft drawl of her mother-in-law floated into the room scant seconds before the woman did, smelling of lilac and sunshine. Virginia Daniels always appeared the most genteel of southern women to anyone who didn't know her.

You gave us all a horrible fright with all that sleeping you've done these last months.

Virginia laid a handkerchief on the chair Ruthie vacated, preparing to grace Katherine with her presence for at least a little while. The woman wouldn’t bother to sit if she intended to be less than fifteen minutes; a full half-hour with her and Katherine would pull her hair out.

Mother, I wasn't sleeping for three months. I was in a coma. Exhaustion tagged along on the heels of frustration as Katherine mentally counted to twenty, trying to keep control of her emotions.

Sleeping or in a coma, all the same, dear. You weren't where you were needed. Virginia brushed imaginary lint off the shoulder of her summer suit and spoke in hushed tones as though her daughter-in-law had been caught doing something to be ashamed of.

Mother Daniels never entered a hospital unless someone was dying or required help in getting to where they wanted to die. Katherine folded her hands on the table over her lap and waited for the bomb to drop. It would be a big one, that much was certain. When Virginia lifted a bony hand to play with the single strand of pearls hanging around her slender neck, Katherine knew the moment of truth had come.

Dear, we need to talk about Jessup.

Anyone could see where Jessup got his nerve, dear sweet Mother.

I think he has been punished more than enough for this petty argument between you two. Virginia pulled another handkerchief from the recesses of her suit to dab at her eyes as though they might well up with tears; which was a laugh and a half, as barracudas don't cry. He's told me every time I see him how terribly sorry he is that you got hurt.

The full weight of her mother-in-law’s gaze pinned Katherine to the bed. She didn't like the direction the conversation was going and knew she would hate its outcome.

Now really, Katherine, we all know you have a bit of a temper and that you revel in making Jessup pay for the tiffs you two have. Can't you put this pettiness behind you and make up once and for all?

Katherine stared at the woman related to her through marriage and wondered if she actually believed the shit spewing forth from her own lips; she obviously did, for she continued trying to convince Katherine it was all her fault that Jessup had turned on her, vowing to kill her in a jealous rage.

What exactly did you do to make him angry, dear? You know Jessup can only be provoked so much before he gets mad. What did you do to make him act this way? Virginia’s lips pursed into a fine line as a single elegant white eyebrow arched high in question.

With her mouth tightened and her head tilted just so, Virginia had a way of making grown men feel as though they had never outgrown their adolescent years. Laying the blame on everyone else was her specialty, and she did it with flair. Jessup had never learned to take responsibility for anything in his life, and he never would, so long as Mother was around to dump the burden on someone else's doorstep.

Katherine prayed for patience in her dealings with the aging viper sitting across the room from her. Before she could open her mouth to refute the false accusations calmly flung in her direction, a shadow crossed the floor of the room's entry.

I hate to bother you ladies; I couldn't help overhearing the conversation as I waited to speak to Mrs. Daniels. Did I hear you correctly, ma'am? A lady wearing a hospital badge stepped into the room and addressed Virginia directly. Did you just ask this woman, who was brutally beaten by her husband, what she did to provoke such an act, as though it were her own fault?

Hands resting in the pockets of her black blazer, the newcomer waited patiently as Virginia shifted in her chair, mind racing for an answer, but not necessarily the truth.

And just who might you be? Virginia's frosty reply came from between those firmly pressed lips.

The woman stepped forward with her hand outstretched and introduced herself as Dr. Rickman, the hospital’s domestic violence therapist.

I must stress that it wasn't Katherine's fault her husband used her as a punching bag when his temper flared beyond the normal range. In most cases of spousal abuse, it doesn't matter what the victim had been doing or was about to do. Their attacker would have attacked them. Men with aggressive natures don't need a reason to become violent and abusive. What remains for Katherine to do now is decide if she's going to stay in the marriage or leave it and move forward with her life.

Excuse me? Virginia’s haughty tone was full of disbelief. Did you just ask my daughter if she was going to leave her husband of nearly twenty years?

Yes, ma'am, that is exactly the question I am putting to Mrs. Daniels. She turned to focus all her attention on Katherine. I'll not go any further with this discussion until we begin your sessions. I want you to ask yourself, over and over, until you get an honest answer. The course of your therapy depends solely on your decision. She pulled a business card from a blazer pocket and left it on the nightstand next to the telephone with instructions to call anytime of the day or night if Katherine had questions.

When will we begin these sessions, Doctor? Katherine wasn't sure she wanted to start them at all, though it was better to know the danger that lay ahead of her than to be blindsided in the dark.

When you have your answer. It does no good until then. Nodding stiffly at Virginia, she left the two women to their privacy.

I cannot believe the gall of that woman! Virginia exploded out of her chair. For her to encourage you to leave your husband because you had an argument, it just isn't done.

Katherine listened to her mother-in-law rattle on about propriety and appearances. The scandal it would cause in her social circle should one of