You're on your own kid

IMOGEN'S POV

I fled to a room when Elijah let go of me. I got his message. Stark and clear. I needed to leave this hell now.

My brother-in-law had been right, and I had been myopic not to take the freedom he offered me even if there had been an equally nefarious reason behind his actions.

I locked the door behind me once I was in the comfort of one of the many rooms in the mansion.

"Imogen," I heard Elijah call on me, knocking on the door violently as he twisted the doorknob to force it open. "Open the door. Let's talk."

I held my breath, muffling the cries that I desperately wanted out. My brain was in scrambles. It was so bad that I actually considered letting him in. Because what would happen if I didn't and he managed to force his way in? Choking me wouldn't cut it, then.

When my hands reached the door, Elijah stopped trying to pry the door open. I could still see his shadow from the crack under the door. His labored breathing was an added bonus.

"I'm sorry. You hear. I didn't mean to hurt you." He told me. "I understand if you want to take some time to yourself. But don't beat yourself. I still want to talk to you, by the way."

Then he left. I watched his shadow disappear from the crack under the door. I stayed there until his footsteps got muted as he walked away.

Once I was certain he was completely gone, I collapsed to the floor and let all that pain I had crumbled up out.

I felt empty. Never in a thousand years did I imagine that this would be me. The realization gave me enough strength to force myself back to my knees. The room was a huge space covered in white blankets. I walked up to what I believed was the dresser and ripped away the white blanket shielding it from dust.

I was petrified by the sight in front of me. My hair was a mess again. My eyes were red and puffy. The makeup the woman from earlier had rolled me up in had completely washed ever from the tears. I trailed a finger down the nape of my neck, which was now bruised red and purple. That was how hard Elijah Rossi had strangled me.

"He'll kill me. If I stay." I mused to myself.

My tired legs walked up to the bed. There was a desk beside it covered in white sheets too. But I could see a coiled wire peeking from behind it which told me there was a telephone here. I was starting to think the worst of Elijah so I decided to put a call to the one person I trusted to ask for help.

I peeled away the sheets to see a pristine machine. I immediately started to hit the keys, the sound of each press echoing in the quiet room.

Ring... ring... ring...

"Hello?" a familiar voice answered on the other end.

"M-Mom?" I choked out, my voice trembling with emotion.

"Imogen? Is that you?" Her voice was laced with concern. "Are you alright? Mrs.Rossi explained everything to me. Can you imagine the audacity of that bastard? I'm sure things are better now."

"Mom, things... things aren't better," I stammered, tears welling up in my eyes once again.

I couldn't hold back the flood of emotions any longer. I broke into a sob, my words choked with tears. "Nothing is fine, Mom. Nothing..."

"What do you mean, sweetie? What happened?" Her voice was filled with worry.

I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to compose myself enough to speak. "What the paper said was true, Mom," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. "Elijah... he told me our marriage was nothing but a sham right after we left the reception. And... and he has a mistress..."

But that wasn't even the worst part.

"He put his hands on me, Mom," I sobbed, the words catching in my throat. "He... he hurt me..."

I could hear the sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, followed by a heavy silence.

"Oh, Imogen," my mother finally spoke, her voice filled with sorrow. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. What did you do?"

I chose to ignore that. Instead I continued with the plan I had made up to follow to the bitter end. "Mom, I will be getting a divorce."

I hoped to be supported by my mother, but what my mother said next shocked me to the core.

"Imogen, you've only been married for a day. A divorce should be the last thing on your mind."

What?! I must have heard wrong.

"What do you mean, Mom?!" I exclaimed, disbelief evident in my tone. "Are you serious? After what he did to me, after everything I just told you, you think I should stay married to him?"

My mother sighed heavily on the other end of the line. "Imogen, I know this is difficult for you, but you have to think about the bigger picture. Divorce is not something to be taken lightly. People will talk, and they will say you couldn't even last a year married."

People would talk? My mother cared about what complete strangers would say regarding a choice I took to save my life.

"But Mom, I can't stay with him!" I cried, frustration and desperation bubbling up inside me. "He's abusive, he's cheating on me, he doesn't love me! I can't live like this!"

"You have to try, sweetheart." She told me. "Men act out when their freedom is taken away. He probably is just livid that the bachelor life he was once enjoyed is gone now."

Did she hear herself? "Mom, did Dad abuse you when you married him? Did he put his hands on your throat and try to end your life when you stood up for your rights?"

"Imogen, every relationship is different." She replied. "Your father was sweet. He had too. It was the only charm he had. Elijah on the other hand has never had to lift a finger to get to where he is. That privilege comes with a pride. A pride that a wife should be able to tame."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I listened to my mother's words, feeling utterly alone and betrayed. How could she not see that staying with Elijah was not an option?

"I also know that no man hurts his significant other if he is not provoked. You know I have always warned you about that bratty nature of yours."

"I don't think you understand, Mom-"

"I understand, sweetheart, I really do," my mother replied, cutting me off. "But you have to think about your future. Divorce can have serious consequences, especially for someone in your position. We aren't like the Rossi. A good name is all your father had managed to give us. That good name will be shaken if you choose to make ridiculous choices in the spur of a moment. You need to be strong, Imogen. You need to try to make this marriage work."

"But Mom..." I started, my voice breaking with emotion.

"I'm sorry, Imogen," she interrupted gently. "I know this is hard to hear, but sometimes we have to make sacrifices for the sake of our reputation and our future. Just give it some time, okay? Things might get better."

I wanted to argue, to scream, to make her understand how trapped and hopeless I felt. But as much as it pained me, I realized I was wasting my breath.

"Was the dowry that good?" I asked.

"What do you mean, Imogen?" my mother asked. She was an audacious woman to act confused.

"I mean, was the dowry that good that you think I should endure this kind of treatment?" I pressed, my voice shaky with hate. "Is our family's reputation really worth more than my happiness and safety? Though, I doubt this has anything to do with reputation. It's just money. Isn't it?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and for a moment, I thought my mother might hang up on me.

Finally, she spoke, her voice strained. "Imogen, it's not about the dowry or our family's reputation. It's about... it's about..."

She trailed off, and I could sense her struggling to find the right words.

"It's about what, Mom?" I prompted, almost yelling. My grip on the phone tightened.

"It's about... it's about stability," she replied hesitantly. "It's about security. I just want what's best for you, Imogen. I want you to be safe and taken care of."

How could my mother prioritize material comfort over my well-being?

"But what about my emotional well-being, Mom?" I demanded, my voice rising with desperation. "What about my happiness? Don't those things matter to you?"

"Of course they do, Imogen," my mother insisted. "But sometimes we have to make sacrifices for the greater good. And I truly believe that if you give this marriage a chance, things will improve. You're stronger than you think, sweetheart. You can get through this."

I wanted to argue further, to plead with her to understand, but I knew it would be futile. My mother had made up her mind, and nothing I said would change it.

"Okay, Mom," I whispered defeatedly. "I'll try. If I end up dead, which I most likely will. I want you to remember this conversation and I want you never to forget that you chose money over me."

With those vile words thrown at her without caution, I slammed the phone back in place, successfully hanging the call.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, a sense of hopelessness settling over me like a suffocating blanket.

How could I ever escape this prison of a marriage when even my own mother refused to see the truth because of greed?

My sobs morphed into a maniacal laughter, a bitter, hollow sound that filled the room. It was a laughter born out of despair, out of the realization that I was truly alone in this world.

I clutched at my chest, gasping for breath between fits of hysterical laughter. Each laugh was like a knife to my heart, a painful reminder of the steep reality I found myself trapped in.

The tears continued to flow unchecked down my cheeks, mixing with the laughter in a twisted cocktail of emotions. I felt like I was losing my mind, like I was teetering on the edge of sanity.

But in that moment of madness, I made a silent vow to myself.

I would not let Elijah or anyone else break me. If I could not find a way to escape this hell, I would bring Elijah into my hell.