Trying Not to Love You - Part Thirty

A/N - Admittedly, this is far too young to be Ethan in the picture...but it's SO cute! :)

Chapter Thirty

Sonny held her, his fury and anger unending, but she was shaking, she was terrified, and for a moment he had to think of her. He’d worried she’d push him away, but she’d fallen against him as the tears fell and all he could do was hold her, tightly, the fingers of one hand buried in her hair, his lips on her forehead. If he could take away this he would, and as he held her he knew that no matter what happened to Oldbury, nothing would ever change this harsh reality.

When she calmed herself, she stepped back slightly, her eyes dropped to the floor. Sonny reached out and tilted her chin, forced Martha to look at him, “don’t ever be ashamed, don’t ever hide...you are better than that, ok?”

Sighing she moved away from him, into the kitchen. He followed and stood watching her as she pulled a bottle of red wine from the cupboard and started to open.

                “I saw him...beating someone up.”

He pricked his ears up at that, nodding, encouraging her to talk. She filled two glasses and handed him one, then they both moved back to the lounge, sitting together on the sofa.

It was a long time since Martha had revisited those days, and even more poignant was the fact that she’d never vocalised the hell that the last night with Scott had been. Calmly, almost serenely, she told him all that had happened.

She’d been excited, Scott was talking about taking her away and she’d seen a deal on the internet for a long weekend in New York. He was always busy, so she wasn’t sure he’d agree to it, but she really wanted to go...and it was cheap.

She’d called to his office, he ran a car dealership in a nearby town, but he wasn’t there, so she drove home past his father’s house. That was when she spotted his car, parked around by one of the outhouses. She knew she’d always been wary of him, there was a side to him she’d not seen, but knew was there. But to see him shirt off booting absolute lumps out of an unconscious man was more than she could cope with.

She’d escaped home before he saw her there and tried to process what she’d seen, but the more time passed the more terrified she became. Eventually she called him, he was laughing, ‘at the golf course’; life went on after almost killing someone.

He came to the farm straight from the gold course, euphoric at winning, he wanted her to go out with him, but she couldn’t face it. Her father had been sat in the lounge, Aunt Lucy was out, and she’d gone into the kitchen.

Scott had followed her, “come on, I want you to come out with me.”

She shook her head, “I’m tired. Tomorrow maybe?”

His laugh had been scary, “I’ll let it ride this time, but you’re my wife to be Martha, and if I want you out with me you’ll be there. Do you hear me?”

He’d never been aggressive with her, but then she’d only worn his engagement ring for a few weeks, and she’d always done everything he wanted up till that point.

As he bent down to kiss her, he pushed her left hand up against the recently boiled kettle, the metal scorching her skin. She gasped, snatching her hand away, and he sighed, grabbing her chin in his hand, “Oops. I’m so clumsy sometimes.” His eyes held hers, the threat obvious in his snarl   “Be ready tomorrow, seven o’clock.”

And he marched out.

Looking back she could have done many things, told her father, or his father, or even taken her injured arm to the police. Instead she called Stephanie. She went to stay with her godmother several times a year and she was more than happy to offer her a room for a little while.

Her plan was to leave, go to London, regroup then plan the rest of her life. The following morning she had as much as she could fit wedged into the ever impractical Herman and was set to leave, drive away.

But looking at her hand, to the engagement ring she knew that she couldn’t leave this all to her father. Scott turning up here for her angry...her family would be at risk. No she had to confront him, tell him, then get away.

It was late afternoon when she called him, but there was no answer, so she called a few of his usual haunts, and surprise-surprise he was at the Royal Oak. Another phone call to James revealed that he was in the bar with a couple of friends.

Hiding Herman at the back of the pub car park, she tried to control her anxiety as she walked into the building.

Scott was stood at the bar with a few friends laughing, Saturday evening and he had nothing better to do, obviously. She’d taken off the engagement ring and it was clutched in her palm as she walked across the bar towards him.

                “Can I have a word with you please Scott?”

He shrugged, “what?”

                “In private?” Whilst she wanted the public place for her own safety, she knew that dumping him in front of his friends would only anger him.

                “You can say what you want in front of the boys.”

She almost bottled it, she was so anxious, but then she looked down at the blisters on her wrist, the angry red burn, there was more to life than this. She was no one’s punch bag...and she’d seen how Scott ‘punched’.

Taking a deep breath she held out her hand, “I’ve got this for you.” When he held out his hand, she opened her fingers and let the ring fall into his palm. “I’m leaving town...this is yours.”

With an apologetic smile she made to leave, unable to believe that it had been that easy.

She hadn’t reached the door when his voice echoed around the pub, which had become busier since she’d arrived.

                “YOU are leaving ME?” His laugh was eerie and she stood static, frozen in time, her back still to him. “In front of everyone here, YOU jumped up little Martha Mansell are walking out on me? After everything I’ve done for you?” She turned slightly and saw that he’d jumped down from his bar stool and was moving through the bar theatrically.

                “Ladies and gentlemen, this whore here, this teasing slut is dumping me after all the time and effort, not to mention money that I’ve put into her. I’ve turned a blind eye to her flirting with all and sundry, I’ve ignored her spending my money without my permission...”

And so the lies rained down on her. She could have spoken out, told him that he was speaking bullshit, but she wanted to leave, to escape, that was all she wanted. Head bowed she listened to the diatribe that was Scott Oldbury’s fragile ego and despite the humiliation and shame, with every word she knew that this was over, he’d never want her back. She could escape.

Eventually she slipped out of the door, her humiliation complete, but a door opened to a more secure future.

She’d gone home, to say goodbye to Lucy and her father, and this was the only part of the story she didn’t tell Sonny, as her father had screamed at her for humiliating him. She didn’t know he’d been in the bar, and to hear such derogatory things about his daughter turned him into a man she didn’t recognise. Running back to her car, that James had helped her store behind his father’s garage, she could barely see for tears.

As she unlocked the car door, she heard a noise behind her, and when she turned around thinking James had come to say goodbye, she came face to angry face with Scott.

She didn’t have to elaborate on the last part of the story, needless to say he beat and violated her in ways she hadn’t thought imaginable, and when he finally left her bruised, battered and bleeding, she managed to climb into the car, grateful for the darkness to hide her from other drivers. How she got to London she didn’t know, but she stopped a few miles out of town and cleaned herself as best she could. In fresh clothes, and with her hair scraped back, and some light make up, she looked beaten, but not half dead.

                “And you hadn’t seen Oldbury until that night in the pub?” Sonny was toying with the stem of his wine glass; the simple gesture didn’t hide the tension in his shoulders, the clench of his jaw.

                “Don’t make this your battle, it’s over. It was a long time ago.”

He looked to the ceiling for a moment, fighting his conflicting emotions, “I don’t want to make this about me, but that man...after everything he’d done to date I hated him, but this...” he cupped her cheek gently, “I could kill him, I really could. I swore I’d never do time again, but I’d happily kill him tomorrow, and returning to jail would be worth it.”

Martha sighed, “and you’d be just another victim of him. He’d win again.”

                “So what happens now?”

She sipped her drink, the million dollar question, “nothing.  We go back to things, I secure things for my Dad, then when he’s fit...I come back here and become a mother again. What other options are there?”

                “Running away again?”

She turned to him, “what do you want from me Sonny? First I’m away from Ethan too much, then being with him is running away.”

He sighed, “I just want to sort this for you.”

                “Back to not being your problem.”

His hand lifted to her cheek, fingers sliding gently over her skin, “is this why you pushed me away? Ethan?”

                “Partly, but things are complicated. I hadn’t had sex since that time until the other week, with you, I was scared, it was something I never thought I’d manage again.”

He sighed, memories of that night as always vivid in his mind, “and we were anything but gentle.”

Martha smiled at that, they’d not dissected what had happened between them, “that wasn’t important, I thought it would be, but it wasn’t. I wasn’t scared. And I’m just grateful for that.”

“Is that what I was to you? Someone to get you over your trauma?” She could tell he was hurt, and she hated that. But nothing had changed, they were still wrong for each other, and he was still struggling to get that. “What happened happened because we were emotionally fraught, we’d had stress beyond belief, we were both taut, pent up. I told you I regretted it, and I was wrong. I didn’t Carter, but that doesn’t mean that there’s any future in it.”

Sonny rolled his eyes, “I think you’re wrong, and to be honest Martha I’m wondering just how many excuses you’re going to come up with, and then I’m going to have to fathom out why you are STILL fighting it.”

She shrugged, “we’re friends, and I appreciate you in that role, and you feel the same. Neither of us is exactly hitting off friends in an over popular way. You are so important to me, staying with my Dad, helping me keep things going.”

                “So I’m a glorified baby sitter?”

Exasperated she shook her head, “no, we you’re someone I trust, someone I can turn to...I’ve never had that. I have too much on my plate to contemplate something more than friendship with anyone, but especially with you, I need you in other ways, can’t you see that? Then there’s the you and Scott war which I have no intention of worsening, and then there’s you. You aren’t the type to settle for this, she gestured around herself, you don’t do average or walks in the park. You are into excitement, gambling, pubs, constantly changing environment, sorry but you don’t do stable, you don’t do static...I know that much about you.”

                “You make me want to change.” He offered.

She greeted that with a smile, “no one should ever make you change. You’ll find someone who ticks all your boxes Sonny. One day.”

It didn’t make sense to him, not really, but it had been an emotionally fraught day, he wasn’t about to push things. Instead he accepted her sofa for the night, there’d be time to talk in the morning, before he went back to organise things at the restaurant. That was his priority.

Martha barely slept, she was hyper aware of Sonny on her sofa. She could hear him move, hear the odd sigh. She remembered when he’d seduced her, talking about a mere door separating them back at the farm, in this small flat it was even more difficult. But here, away from the farm, it was false, she was letting her guard down and that was wrong. She had to keep thinking of Scott, of what he could do. Then she couldn’t sleep for a whole different reason.

It was light when she woke, she barely slept in, and glancing at her alarm clock she gasped to see it was after eight. Ethan never slept that late. Pulling a cardigan over her pyjamas, she made for the lounge. She needed coffee.

The sight that greeted her caused more heartache than anything she’d ever experienced in her life. Sonny was flat out on his back, the duvet not covering all his bare chest, but that wasn’t it, she was getting used to his chest, if that was what you could call it...half on top, half beside him also under the duvet was Ethan arms wrapped around Sonny’s neck, both fast asleep.