The first few months of the marriage had been great, she had that bliss that she had craved when she had married Carter. After those first few months though, she found out exactly what kind of monster she had married. The first time he came home drunk she didn't think anything of it, figuring he'd had a bad day at the office. When he had slapped her she had been stunned, not knowing what was going on with her once kind and gentle husband. He had been so apologetic, promising that it would never happen again. Things had been good for a little while after that, but after another bad day at the office the same thing happened again, except that she walked away with a black eye.

He was always so apologetic when "it" happened and Shannon always told herself that the next time he hit her she'd leave, but she never did. A part of her was too afraid to leave, while the other part of her told her that she must have done something to deserve such treatment. Shannon didn't know what she could have done to deserve it, but told herself that if she was a better wife that Carter wouldn't be spending almost every night at the bar, which would mean he wouldn't come home drunk, which would mean that she wouldn't end up bruised and battered.

Shannon had actually gone so far as to get on the internet and look for agencies that helped with spousal abuse, but she had never found the heart to leave Carter. She had promised that she'd always love him and it was a vow that was not made lightly. No matter how many times she thought about leaving, her vows seemed to come back and haunt her.

Shannon felt a coldness that seemed to seep through her bones and knew what was coming. Seconds later she heard the front door as it slammed open, bouncing against the wall. Carter's rages were so bad that they'd already had to replace the door three times because of him ripping them off the hinges. Shannon curled up as close to the edge of the King size bed as she could, trying in vain to become small enough to simply disappear. It never worked, but she never gave up her futile efforts.

"Where are you bitch?!"

Shannon couldn't help the way her body started shivering as she heard Carter's booming voice echo through the hall. She knew that she didn't have long before he came barging through the bedroom door. Her mind flashed back to all the other times that this exact scene played out and she hated herself for staying with him. She knew that she could go to the police, but she knew all the stories of the abusers that got away. The ones where nothing could be proved.

The door to the bedroom flew open and Carter stormed into the room. Shannon barely even heard the door slam against the wall. She was too busy trying to drown out Carter's voice as he threw insults at her. The insults themselves barely even registered with her anymore, she was always hearing it.

"What the fuck are you doing in bed?" Carter bellowed.

"Carter, it's two o'clock in the morning, where else would I be?" Shannon answered, hating how small her voice sounded.

"Why don't you tell me you little bitch! God, look at you, I don't know why I even bother to come home. All I have waiting for me here is a frigid little bitch like you," Carter said, just before he backhanded her across the mouth.

"Carter, I'm sorry," Shannon said softly, the coppery taste of blood in her mouth. It wasn't the first time she had tasted her own blood.

"You're sorry? Sorry for what? That the house is in shambles? God Shannon, don't you ever do anything? Do you know how many women would love to be in your shoes right now? Who'd love to have someone take care of them? You're a selfish little bitch, you know that?"

"You mean be beaten?" Shannon asked before quickly covering her already bruised lips. She should never have challenged him, she never had before. When she looked up into the cold azure pools that his eyes had become she read the truth in them. He was angry, far angrier than he'd ever been before. Some of the previous times Shannon had barely walked away from one of his beatings and she suddenly realized that this time she might not be so lucky. She had never seen that level of coldness in his eyes and she knew that this time she had crossed the line.

"Beaten huh? You think I beat you Shannon? Do you want me to show you what a real beating is? I can you know. My father beat my mother enough that I've seen it all."

"Carter, please, don't," Shannon said softly, tears running slowly down her face. She saw his hand coming towards her and before she had time to move away, she felt his hand fist in her deep auburn hair, dragging her out of the bed. Carter used the hand in her hair to jerk her head up, before using his other hand to slap her savagely across the face. Carter then practically threw her to the ground before kicking her in the ribs, knocking the breath out of her and causing her to curl up in the fetus position as he repeatedly kicked her.

Shannon drew in shallow breaths, trying not to black out from the pain that shot through her entire body. Though it seemed like years, it was only mere minutes before the kicking stopped. Moments later she felt his hand wrap around her forearm and jerk her upright again; she could stop the scream that flew out between her open lips as her shoulder was dislocated. Enjoying his wife's pain, Carter let go of her arm before grinding the heel of his boot against the dislocated shoulder.

"And just think," Carter growled, "no one can hear your screams. That idiot family next door left for the weekend."

Shannon had forgotten about the neighbors being gone. She knew now that her very life could depend on her ability to fend off her husband. She realized that the only reason that Carter hadn't covered her mouth as he normally did was because there was no one close enough to hear the screams; therefore, there was no one to call the police.

Shannon's eyes went wide with fear as she watched her husband reach into his front pocket and pull out his pocket knife. She knew that the time had come; he was going to kill her. Reacting to the site of the knife, Shannon managed to pull her foot back just as Carter flicked open the knife. Pulling all the strength left in her, Shannon kicked out, connecting with Carter's shin. She had the satisfaction of hearing him cry out in pain, but her satisfaction was short lived as Carter's foot connected with her already sore ribs.

The wave of pain became too much for Shannon and the last thing she remembered was the sight of Carter releasing the button on his jeans. Her last thought was ‘please not again, please don't rape me again.' She never got to voice her thoughts as the blackness overtook her. She never felt the knife slice through her skin as Carter thrust into her and she never saw the sixteen year old boy run through the bedroom door and throw himself at her husband. Shannon was already unconscious.