Taking Faith by Shelly Crane Page A

"Strawberry."
                  "You like strawberry shampoo?" he asked and she nodded. He picked her out some and put it in the cart. The clothing department was massive…for men. There was a ton of work clothes and jeans for the men, but the woman's section was bleak and small. Even the store had no inclination to offer the woman more than they thought they deserved. He asked her size and picked out one of everything that fit her. They were all things she would never have worn in her own life, but this wasn't her life anymore, now was it…

 
     
     
     
    Chapter 6
     
     
     
     
                  The ride home was slow, believe it or not. There was a tractor in the road making a short ride a long one. A tractor. Amy sighed and pressed her head to the window. Roger glanced over at her and seemed for the first time to see that she was once again sullen. "Hey," he said, his voice smooth and deep. "What's wrong?"
                  "Everything," she sighed.
                  He sighed, too. "Amy…I thought we were making some progress."
                  "Are you letting me go?" she asked with her face still pressed to the cold glass.
                  He paused so long she wondered if he was actually contemplating it. "I can't."
                  "Then we're not making progress."
                  He gripped the steering wheel tighter, Amy could hear the leather twisting under his fingers, and his smooth face was once again lined with concern and anger.
                  Once the truck stopped at his house, she was out and making her way inside. It was pretty chilly at night there and the first thing he did after bringing everything inside was start a fire in the fireplace.
                  The bags stayed right there on the table. She wasn't about to put anything up. In her mind, it was back to square one. Was Roger only pulling the nice guy act so he could trick her into doing what he wanted and fool the community into thinking that he had her under control?
                  If that was the case, then why not go on and beat her?
                  He went straight into the kitchen and started banging things around. She inched herself into one of the wooden table chairs, lifting one leg to press to her chest and tried not to flinch. She knew he was angry and she knew why. He thought they could at least cohabitate for a while in peace, but the scene today had shaken Amy. She couldn't do this. She couldn't just have kids and live here forever.
                  He was still a monster and she needed to remember that.
                  She heard the front knob jingle. She looked over at it and hadn't thought anything of warning Roger until it was too late. Suddenly someone burst through the door and she knew what a grave mistake had been made. She was sitting at the table, Roger was banging around in the kitchen, she assumed making something to eat for dinner, and his father was at the door.
                  "What in the hell is going on here?" he roared and came at Amy. She scrambled from her chair and backed into the wall. Roger emerged from the kitchen and bolted across the room for him. He didn't reach him before his father reached her though.
                  His grip was full of hate as he grabbed her arm and then let his palm shock her cheek with a slap. She smelled alcohol and knew why the situation had escalated so quickly. When Roger gripped his arm to stop another hit, she was slammed into the wall in the struggle. The back of her head hit so hard she saw spots, but didn't pass out. No, she saw everything.
                  Every horrible detail in vivid color.
                  She was sprawled behind the table against the wall and could see them struggling on the other side through the table legs. It was like a bad movie seeing their