Sarah
I let Josh guide over to the open bar, my mind still reeling from the heated confrontation with Matthew. The bartender, a handso guy with a friendly smile, asks what we’d like.
"Two vodka cranberries, please," I say. "And make them doubles."
Josh raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything.
A strong drink is exactly what I need right now.
As the bartender mixes our cocktails, Josh turns to , concern etched on his face. "Seriously though, Sarah. What’s going on with you and Matthew? The tension between you two is thicker than the humidity tonight."
I sigh, not really wanting to get into the sordid details. "It’s complicated," I say vaguely, accepting my drink from the bartender with a grateful nod.
Josh isn’t deterred. "Complicated how? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like my best friend is in a pretty toxic situation."
I take a long sip of my drink, the tartness of the cranberry mixing with the sharp bite of vodka. I welco the burn in my throat.
"Matthew and I...we’re just going through a rough patch," I say, not eting Josh’s eyes. "Newlywed growing pains, you know?"
Josh frowns, clearly unconvinced. "Sarah, I’ve known you for years. I can tell when sothing’s not right. And the way he grabbed you just now, the things he said...that’s not normal."
I drain the rest of my drink in one long gulp, already feeling the alcohol starting to buzz through my veins. "I appreciate the concern, Josh. Really. But I can handle Matthew."
"Can you?" Josh presses gently. "Because it doesn’t seem like it from where I’m standing."
I signal the bartender for another round instead of answering. I know Josh ans well, but I don’t have the energy to dive into the ss that is my marriage right now.
"Let’s just enjoy the party, okay?" I say, forcing a smile. "I think I’ve had enough heavy conversation for one night."
Josh looks like he wants to argue but thinks better of it. "Alright," he relents. "But this discussion isn’t over, Sarah. I’m here for you whenever you’re ready to talk."
I nod, grateful for his understanding. "Thanks, Josh. You’re a good friend."
We clink our fresh drinks together and I let the vodka work its numbing magic, pushing thoughts of Matthew to the back of my mind.
As the night wears on, I lose myself in the pulsing beat of the music and the easy flow of alcohol. Josh and I dance and laugh, reminiscing about old tis and catching up on the years we’ve missed. It’s freeing to be able to just let go and not think about the suffocating reality waiting for at ho.
I’m pleasantly buzzed, and I forget all about my problems for a mont.
I look around, searching for Rebecca, but I don’t see her anywhere. Maybe she left.
The party winds down, and I co ho sick. And the craziest part? I miss Matthew.
"Josh," I say, my words slurring slightly. "I think I need a ride ho."
Josh looks at , taking in my glassy eyes and unsteady stance. "Yeah, I can see that," he says with a wry smile. "Co on, let’s get you out of here."
He wraps an arm around my waist, supporting my weight as he guides through the dwindling crowd. The cool night air hits my face as we step outside, and I take a deep breath, trying to clear my head.
Josh helps into the passenger seat of his sleek black rcedes, the leather cool against my flushed skin. He slides into the driver’s seat and starts the engine, the car purring to life.
As we pull out onto the quiet streets, I lean my head against the window, thinking about my husband.
My very angry husband.
Did he an what he said earlier? Is he going to make regret staying at Josh’s when I get ho? I guess I will see...
You sure you wanna go ho tonight?" Josh finally asks, breaking the silence.
I blink, lifting my head slightly to look at him. "What do you an?"
Josh exhales, keeping his gaze on the road. "Sarah, he threatened you back there. You have to tell if he is abusing you."
A lump forms in my throat, but I swallow it down. "He is not abusing ," I murmur.
Josh shakes his head, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. "You say that, but I don’t think you believe it anymore."
I look away, watching the dark streets blur past. I don’t want to talk about this. Not to Josh.
"I just want to sleep in my own bed," I say quietly.
Josh doesn’t argue, but I can tell he wants to. Instead, he lets out a slow breath and turns onto my street.
Josh pulls up to the curb and puts the car in park but doesn’t turn off the engine. He grips the wheel and then looks at . "Sarah...if he is hurting you—-"
"Thanks for the ride, Josh," I say and get out of the car.
I square my shoulders, forcing myself forward. Step by step, I approach the front door, my heart pounding in ti with each movent. My fingers tremble as I slide the key into the lock and turn it.
The mont I push the door open, I know sothing is off.
The house is quiet—too quiet.
And then I see him.
Matthew is sitting on the couch, his posture relaxed but his expression anything but.
He doesn’t look at right away. Instead, he swirls the drink in his hand, his fingers slow and deliberate around the glass.
"Had fun?" he finally says, his voice smooth, controlled.
I step inside, closing the door behind . "Yes, I did," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady.
Matthew lets out a low chuckle, finally lifting his eyes to et mine. They’re dark...dangerous. "Oh, Sarah," he murmurs, setting his glass down and standing. "You knew exactly what you were doing when you decided to stay out."
I take a slow breath, refusing to shrink under his gaze. "And what exactly do you think I was doing?"
Matthew tilts his head, studying like a predator sizing up its prey. "I think," he says, stepping closer, "that you wanted to see just how far you could push ."
My back presses against the door, my pulse quickening as he stops inches away from . His scent—whiskey and sothing darker, sothing purely him—wraps around , suffocating and intoxicating all at once.
"Tell ," he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch deceptively gentle. "Did it feel good? Flirting with Josh?"
I stiffen. "I wasn’t—"
"Don’t lie to , Sarah." His hand moves to my chin, tilting my face up to et his. His grip isn’t rough, but it’s firm. Unyielding.
I swallow hard, my breath hitching. "Matthew, you’re drunk."
He smirks, his thumb brushing lightly over my lower lip, the sa way he had earlier at the party. "And so are you," he tells .
Then, he leans in, his lips just ghosting over mine. "You stayed out when I told you not to," he whispers, his breath hot against my skin. "And now, you’re going to pay for it."
My stomach tightens, but I stand my ground. "What are you going to do about it?"
Matthew suddenly grabs my arm and yanks away from the door, his fingers digging into my skin. A gasp escapes my lips at the sudden movent, my body stumbling after him.
"Matthew, stop," I plead, trying to pull away, but his hold is iron-clad.
He doesn’t respond, his jaw clenched tight as he drags across the living room. My heart pounds wildly in my chest, fear and adrenaline pumping through my veins.
We reach the basent door and he wrenches it open, the hinges creaking in protest. The stairwell yawns before us, dark and foreboding. A chill runs down my spine.
"What are you doing?" I demand, my voice shaking despite my efforts to sound strong.
Matthew looks at then, his eyes glinting in the dim light. "Teaching you a lesson," he says, his tone cold and clipped.
Before I can react, he drags down the stairs.
"Matthew! What the hell?" I cry out.
"Shush. You will wake up Marishka. You don’t want your poor nanny to lose sleep over you, do you?" he hisses.
The little girl in wants to cry out to her for help, but I bite my tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing panic.
The basent is dimly lit, the air heavy with the scent of dust and aged wood. My heart slams against my ribs as Matthew pulls forward.
"Matthew, let go," I say, my voice low but firm. I dig my heels into the floor, trying to resist, but he’s stronger. His fingers tighten around my wrist, sending a sharp sting up my arm.
"You think you can just do whatever you want?" he mutters, his grip unwavering. "Co ho whenever you feel like it? With him?"
My stomach knots. "Josh is my friend," I snap.
Matthew stops abruptly, yanking closer until I’m nearly flush against his chest. His breath is warm against my temple, his jaw tight.
"You don’t get to have friends, Sarah. Not when you destroyed my relationship with other people."
I know he is talking about Amanda, but I say nothing. Instead, I try to plead with him. "Matthew, please. You made your point. Can we just go to bed and talk about this in the morning?"
His lips twist into a cruel smile. "Oh, no, sweetheart. You are spending the night down here tonight."
My blood runs cold. "What?"
Matthew doesn’t answer. Instead, he pushes backward, and I stumble, barely catching myself before I fall. My heart is slamming against my ribs now, panic clawing its way up my throat.
"You can’t be serious," I whisper, my breath shaky.
Matthew tilts his head, watching with sothing disturbingly calm in his expression. "Maybe this will finally make you understand, Sarah," he says. "Actions have consequences."
I lunge for the stairs, but he’s faster. His hand clamps around my wrist, yanking back before I can even reach the first step.
"Don’t," he warns, his voice eerily soft.
I twist in his grip, my pulse pounding in my ears. "Matthew, please," I try again, my voice trembling. "I don’t want to stay down here."
He exhales slowly, almost like he’s considering my words. But then he reaches behind him, and my stomach drops as he pulls sothing from his pocket—a key.
Oh, God.
"Goodnight, Sarah," he murmurs, and before I can react, he shoves back, stepping out of the basent and slamming the door shut.
A sharp click echoes through the air as he locks it.
I rush to the door, banging my fists against the wood. "Matthew!" I scream. "Let out!"
Silence.
I press my forehead against the door, my breath coming in shallow gasps. The basent is cold, the walls too close, the air thick with dust and mories I don’t want to think about.
This isn’t happening.
I shake the handle, but it’s useless. The door doesn’t budge.
Matthew just locked in the basent.
And I am terrified of dark rooms.
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