Page 2 of Hoof It

Two

Chapter 1

Darcy

I flip between browser tabs and blow my long, messy curtain bangs out of my face once again. For the tenth time in the last hour, I swear to myself that I’ll make a hair appointment as soon as I’m done with this research. I just need to finish checking the last few sources I came across online a few days ago. What started out as an itch because of a folklore podcast I’d been listening to, has resulted in me taking a deep dive online for the last five days. I’ve barely left my computer desk except to use the bathroom and grab more snacks, much to my boyfriend’s annoyance.

Despite knowing how I get when I’m following a lead, Mat still attempted to initiate sex last night. I was deep in the lore, and I hadn’t bothered to shower in days. After shrugging off his fifth attempt at getting lucky tonight, he became angry and threw a man-child temper tantrum. He began throwing shoes and coffee mugs across the house. When I didn’t visibly give him the reaction he’d wanted, he stormed out of the house and cussed me the whole way out. Every other time he’s pulled this sort of stunt, I’d stopped whatever I was doing and gone to bed with him. The next morning I’d always clean up his mess and proceed to make him an apology breakfast.

Not this time. I briefly look around me and once again take in the mess of ceramic shards and mismatched shoes. I shake my head and bring my focus back to the computer. The facts aren’t going to check themselves, as much as I wish they would.

The next time I look up from the computer screen is hours later. Mat, unusually calm, comes into the house and begins to silently clean up the mess that I’ve studiously ignored. By the time he’s managed to clean up all of the broken coffee mugs, I’ve finally come to the point in my research that I feel content with all that I’ve learned. As I push my chair back from the desk, I roll my shoulders to pop my back. Pointedly avoiding eye-contact with him, I stand and walk to our bathroom, forcing myself to relax my body. I desperately need a shower. I smell ripe as hell and I hate it.

I stand under the hot spray until it turns too cold to bear any longer, knowing that Mat is probably going to lose his mind and scream at me when he realizes that he has to wait until tonight to take one of his own. But, at this moment, I can’t bring myself to give a shit. At all. Over the last few months, I’ve realized that it may be time to leave this relationship, though I am still mourning how good it was in the beginning.

We met online, in a forum for Midwesterners that believe in, and attempt to track down, possible cryptids. The attraction was immediate. After a month of privately messaging online, we went on our first date. Weeks later we were moving in together into the house we live in now. He was attentive and thoughtful. We rarely disagreed, and when we did, he always apologized first before showering me with extra affection and gifts for days after.

All of that changed a year ago when his mother and brother were in a horrible accident. His brother managed to hang on with life support for two weeks before Mat had to make the decision to pull the plug. His mother, on the other hand, was pronounced dead at the scene. At first, I thought it was just because he was grieving, and he had to make a hard decision, one that reasonably broke his heart. It was during the two week period of his brother being on life support that Mat’s entire personality changed. Overnight he did a complete one-eighty. Gone was the sweet, loving man I’d been living with for a year. In his place was a furious, unforgiving one. Every little thing set him off. It was only a month after Jake passed that Mat hit me for the first time.

Naturally he apologized less than an hour later. He cried as he bathed me and took in the bruise he’d left on my upper chest. The week following the first incident he was sweet; it was as if I had the old Mat back. Sadly, it wasn’t long before sweet Mat was replaced with Monster Mat and the cycle started again. If I didn’t laugh enough at a joke or story he told, he’d get a look in his eyes that promised me pain later. If I wasn’t polite enough to his friends when they came over, or if I was too nice, that same look would be in his eyes until we had the house to ourselves again. The moment their car was out of our driveway, he’d swing on me.

The first few times, I tried to fight back. That only enraged him more. He’d hit me harder. But he was smart about it. He’d only hit me in places that my tee shirts and shorts would cover. My back and abdomen were constantly covered in bruises. After a few months, I learned that if I just took it, he’d run out of steam sooner and leave me alone. Then he’d draw me a bath, use my favorite bath salts and oils, and clean me as an apology. Afterwards, he’d always tuck me into our bed and spoon me. He’d fall asleep immediately, and I’d lie there silently crying so I didn’t wake him up.

Looking back now, I should have left then, but I was still so in love with him. I clung to the hope that once the worst of his grief passed, he’d go back to the earlier version of himself. That one day soon, I’d have my Mat back and we would be okay.

The last few months, something between us has changed. I’ve grown more defiant, more numb. I haven’t cried in months. Not when he hits me, not when he apologizes, and not even when we’re in bed afterwards. I’ve stopped caring for him completely. I’ve started saving small amounts of money each week. For the most part, I have a plan in place. I’ve told my best friend Lexi, and her girlfriend Frankie, so that someone knows what’s going on, and knows that if something happens to me, who to go after for it.

Lexi didn’t much care for Mat before I told her everything a few months back. After a particularly awful fight about six months ago, I showed up at her and Frankie’s house. They took one look at me and knew. It took both Frankie and I to keep Lexi from showing up over here guns blazing, literally. Her father is some sort of black-market arms dealer and taught his only child everything he knows about weapons, murder, and evading the law. She even once offered to have her dad, ”handle Mat.” I may not feel anything for the man, but that doesn’t mean that I want his death on my conscience. Though, I’d be lying if I said I haven’t considered it in the midst of him hitting me.

Pulling myself from the depressing thoughts, I turn off the shower and open the frosted glass door to reach for my towel. Taking my time, I dry my body before applying lotion and semi-blow drying my hair. I groan as I realize that I didn’t bring clothes into the bathroom. Hopefully, if I’m quiet and quick, Mat won’t notice that I’m only in a towel as I walk the short distance from the bathroom to our bedroom. Slowly opening the door, I send up a quick prayer to any god listening that I’ll make it to the bedroom unbothered. I’m too damn tired to deal with Mat making me feel bad about how long it’s been since we last had sex.

I manage to make it to the bedroom door before I hear his footsteps behind me. “Fuck,” I quietly whisper under my breath.

“It’s about fucking time.” His breath hits the back of my neck and I can smell liquor on it. His hands snake up to the top of my towel and undo the knot above my left breast. Before the towel has even hit the wood floor, he’s pinching my nipples and grinding his already hard dick on my bare ass. A shudder rolls through my whole body and he mistakes it for one of pleasure when really, I’m so turned off it’s ridiculous.

“Mat, no. I just got clean.” I shake my head, hoping that he gets the point. His right hand moving down to cup my pussy tells me that he didn’t.

“Yeah, you did babe. You smell so edible right now. And you know I can’t help myself when you’re naked. Have you seen yourself without clothes? God, babe, you’re so fucking sexy. I have half a mind to just fuck you right here up against our door.”

I try to struggle, but his grip on my left nipple and my pussy turn painful. He kicks my feet farther apart, and then his hand leaves my breast. A few seconds later I feel him move his basketball shorts out of his way. Right before he shoves himself inside my still-dry opening, I manage to pull away and stumble into the bedroom.

Before I’m able to make it more than three steps inside he’s on me again, grabbing me by the hair and throwing me onto the floor. I try to get up, but as I rise to my hands and knees to try to push up off the floor, he’s bent over the top of me and roughly shoving his dick inside me again. I cry out and try to get free. He still has some of my hair in his hand and he pulls tight. Tighter than I like. Tears actually well up in my eyes.

“Mat, that hurts. Stop.” My voice cracks as I scream out.

His only response is a grunt and hard smack to my back, just above my ass. He thrusts into me over and over. I struggle again to get away, but he grips my hair even harder and it causes my head to jerk backwards. His other hand manages to smack my ass once before he uses it to shove my back farther down. I can’t stop the tears from falling at this point. I scream out the word no, over and over.

I’m crying so hard that I’ve got snot running down my face and I’m hiccupping. I’m a mess and it’s like he’s not bothered at all by it. In fact, he thrusts harder and faster.

“That’s right baby. Keep struggling. You’re making this so much fun. You’re gonna make me come so hard.”

It’s all I can do to keep from vomiting right now. I never expected the man I love to be so turned on as he raped me. Everything hurts, and the pain of him pulling my hair so hard has my scalp feeling like it’s going to rip off any minute. His grip on my hair finally loosens. His hand moves to my chin and forces me to look at him. His pupils are blown so wide that his brown eyes appear as though they’re fully black. In this moment, he doesn’t resemble the man I fell in love with. He looks like a monster.

I cry even harder and seeing it, he snarls. His hips slam into me one more time. He pulls out and sprays his cum all over my ass and back. He shoves me away from him as though I’m nothing more than a pest on his shoe. I’m barely able to stop my chin from hitting the floor. He stands up and leaves the bedroom. I lay on the floor for a few minutes before I hear him start the shower. I force myself back up onto my knees and crawl to the hallway and snatch my damp towel.

I wipe myself off as well as I can and try to slowly stand up. My knees are screaming at me in protest, but I manage to make it to my feet. I turn towards the dresser and pull out the first pair of sweatpants, panties and sports bra that my hand comes into contact with.

I inch my way to the closet and blindly grab a baggy hoodie. I force myself to walk as fast as I can to the living room. Grabbing my hair tie off my desk, I throw my hair up into a messy bun, then grab my laptop and bag off the desk. I’m panicky and rushed as I grab anything I could possibly need, like my phone charger and purse. My feet are barely in my shoes when I snatch my keys off the hook and rush out the front door.

I’m on the verge of hyperventilating as I open the car door and drop down onto the seat. My sight has started to go blurry from tears as I hit the push-to-start button. It’s then that I realize I don’t have my phone, so I frantically check my purse. That’s the last place I remember putting it. Seeing my pink case, I’m able to relax just a bit. I put my car in reverse and back out of the driveway.

I make it to Lexi’s house in record time, my brain going into autopilot as soon as I was out of the driveway. I don’t remember the twenty minute drive. I’m lucky I made it at all. As I look at her and Frankie’s house, I’m able to take a breath and feel some of the panic and anxiety release their firm hold on me. I grab my purse and laptop bag from the seat and exit my car. I make the short walk from their driveway to their front door and walk into their cozy house.

Frankie sees me first. She’s on her way to their kitchen and hears the front door.

“Lex! Get out here!” she yells and it startles me.

I drop my purse and nearly burst into tears all over again.

“Oh god. Honey, I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.” Frankie approaches me the way you would a deranged animal. Slowly, she pulls me into an embrace and that’s all it takes for me to break down completely.

My best friend comes running into the front room and our eyes meet over Frankie’s shoulder. She knows me well enough that I don’t even need to tell her. She can read it on my face.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” she actually growls.

Frankie releases me from her hug and I nearly fall to the floor. Lexi swoops in and helps me to stand. As I go to wipe tears from my eyes with my hoodie sleeves, a box of tissues are in front of me. The couch creaks as Lex sits near me. Frankie’s hand grazing my arm makes me wince and flinch back, a reminder of the way Mat grabbed me.

“Darce, what happened?” Frankie’s voice is soft and soothing.

I can’t bring myself to say the words yet. I just shake my head and cry harder. A soft blanket is draped over my shoulder and I hug it to my chest. Lexi stands and wraps her left arm over my shoulders. Leaning into her, I bury my face into her shoulder and let myself cry. I can hear them whispering, but I don’t know what they’re saying. A hand gently rubs my back.

After a while, my eyes feel like sandpaper has been rubbed across them over and over. My body is screaming at me. My nose is a gross mess. I’ve soaked Lexi’s shirt. But I’ve finally managed to stop crying. I slowly pull away from Lexi, but keep my eyes downcast. I don’t know why, but I feel ashamed. And gross.

A finger lightly lifts my chin, and Lexi forces me to meet her eyes. I see the question in them. The only thing I’m able to say is, “I told him no, Lex.” My voice breaks on a sob and my legs crumble out from under me.