chpt. 1

I was walking down the busy streets of New York, clutching groceries in hand. I was heaving by the time I got to my car—my husband's car to be exact.

He opened the door for me, a fake smile on his face, as I got in. My nerves on edge, the groceries clutched in hand.

"Did you get everything?" He barks, as he starts driving.

I lick my dry lips, "Yes." I reply curtly.

He stays quiet. I still don't know if I prefer him being quiet or yelling at me. We drive all the way home in silence and I check the groceries more than once, although I know I have everything.

I'm pulled out of my daydream and checking when he pressed the breaks. Hard. I bite my lip to stifle a gasp, knowing he'll yell—like last time—for 'overreacting'.

"What the—?" He breathes, looking up out of the window.

The first thing I see is cars blocking the road, just red break lights in sight. My husband sighs behind me in exasperation.

"Can't these people fucking drive!" He exclaims, slamming his fist against the dash. Hard. I flinch, my muscles contracting, keeping my body stiff. There hasn't been a day since marriage where I haven't been stiff and sore.

Someone, or something jerks the car roughly. I yell out this time, letting go of the groceries and gripping the seat. I hear screaming from people outside the car, too.

"Stop screaming, for fucks' sake!" My husband yells. I wince, ducking my head. I do as he says, stay quiet, not moving.

I then see fire, well, moving fire, to be exact. Johnny Storm, The Human Torch. He flies overhead and swoops down, landing left from the car.

To the right appears The Thing, or Ben, I've read from newspaper articles. I see him carefully open a car door, lifting two small children onto his shoulders and leading the parents away from the road and now debris falling.

A large boulder lands in front of the car. I unbuckle my seat belt and my door opens. My eyes land on Johnny Storm. He's not on fire.

He holds his hand out to me, "Ma'am? Sir? Please follow me."

I take his hand, which angels my husband even more, "You stay here! Get your hands off my wife!"

I start to get out of the car, but my husband grabs me back, "Sir! I have to get you to safety!" Johnny exclaims, another boulder landing close to the car.

I grab Johnny's hand firmly, nodding silently at him. He pulls me from the car swiftly, ushering me to a large crowd of people, holding their children and family.

He winks once at me, before his whole body is engulfed in flames and he jumps, flying away into the air. My husband appears next to me, gripping my wrists tightly. I wince.

He stares at me with a 'concerned' expression, but I've known him long enough that I'll pay for this later. Disobeying him. He let's go of my wrists, kissing my head softly, hugging me close to him.

I cringe as he hugs me. I see his car has been totaled.

+

I land hard on the floor as he smacks me across the face. I stay down. I've tried—tried over and over to stand up for myself—literally. But I know I only make things worse for myself.

The smaller and more invisible I make myself, the better. His foot hits the side of my face. Hard. My face squishes to the floor, tears running silently down my face.

He steps off of me and I lay down. I hear our front door close, and I lay still for a few more minutes—making sure. I then slowly get up. He's probably out gambling again. He always is.

My knees and arms are wobbly as I make myself stand, using the kitchen counter as support. I see the groceries all over the kitchen counter, the bag ripped open.

He said I forgot something again. I always do. That, combined with my life being saved today and his car being destroyed made my punishment the worse I've had in a long time. I can already feel the bruises forming.

I slowly make my way to the groceries, picking each item up with care, until I drop a bag of bananas. I stare at it on the floor. The tears come in waves.

I sink to the floor, sobs wracking my body, tears and snot blurring my vision. I stay like that for a while. After a while I'm too tired to cry. I get up, dust myself off and put the groceries away.

I think back at Johnny Storm. And smile. He saved my life today, and for that I'm grateful. It gives me hope. Even if it is just a little. Everything is quiet in my home, until I hear a soft knock on my kitchen window.