In Too Deep

"I, Royce Hearst, stand here today before the law and before you, Lacuna Esperanza, to declare with unwavering conviction that I accept you as my legally married wife. I promise to love you with all of my heart and soul, to cherish and protect you, and to hold you in the highest regard every single day. Our love is not just a mere emotion but a commitment, an unbreakable bond. Even if death shall separate us, I vow to love you until the end of time. You are my queen, and I am honoured to be your king. I love you more than words can express, and I am committed to a lifetime of happiness and fulfilment with you," Royce proclaimed, his piercing grey eyes locking onto mine with a deep sense of purpose and passion. As we stood together, I knew that our love was not just a mere feeling, but a powerful force that would conquer all obstacles and lead us to a lifetime of joy and contentment. The nuptials turned out to be a remarkable and delightful experience. Royce treated me with utmost care and affection, like a queen. Being the boss of a mafia group, he also helped me to advance my career in the field of criminal and forensic psychology. He always stood by me, making it easier to identify and uncover unethical practices, which I am truly grateful for. Our love life was exceptional; we travelled around the world and even conceived in Ibiza. "Where are you going all dressed up?" Royce asked me as I inspected the living room. "I am heading to work," I replied, but he lifted me off the ground and carried me instead of listening to what I had to say. "Put me down," I protested, "I will be late for work." As soon as we got to our bedroom, he carefully propped me on the bed. He scowled into my eyes, his cinnamon, cloves and spice fragrance so ferocious, and declared, "You are not going to work until our baby turns four." I giggled and then asked, "How am I supposed to make money then?" He hauled me to slump onto the bed before emanating on top of me and whispering in my ear, "Take proper care of yourself and the baby; I will provide everything you desperately need." I'd certainly never pestered Royce's will, so I changed back into my house clothes and nestled up next to his dominant physique. I recall the day and date vividly: December 18, 2029, a Tuesday, I had a stillbirth. Unlike preceding holidays, I ended up being ill at the mall, prompting my bodyguard to telephone Royce, who arrived instantaneously. He carried me into his car and drove me to the hospital. My doctor examined me and subsequently delivered the agonising news. "Doc, please repeat what you just said," Royce said, his voice stringent and perturbed. The doctor turned to Royce and said, "I am very sorry, sir, but I am afraid to inform you that your wife, Mrs. Lacuna Esperanza Hearst, has just had a stillbirth. Your infant, who aged barely five months old, died in her womb." It took me a moment to mentally process his pronouncements. I concentrated on Royce, who did not return my gaze, before poising up and consequently rendering the office. Later that day, shortly after midnight, Royce landed home drunk. He made no eye contact with me. I watched him utilise his belongings and evacuate our once-called bedroom. I sat on my bed, trying not to cry. The next day at breakfast, Royce did not join me. "Lorraine, have you seen my husband?" I pestered as the maid prepped the meal on the table. It took her a second akin to stating, "Mr. Royce left very early in the morning." Something was modified. I took a sip of my tea and asked "Did he hint what time he would be back?" Lorraine took the empty tray and responded, "No, ma'am. He did not." Our initially established programme had undergone a radical. The days of Royce and me cuddling intimately together culminated. I saw him solely on a few occasions, and those scenarios uncovered a very different side of him. He was no longer compassionate; our love had morphed into hatred, capable of killing one of us. The hand that had hitherto manipulated my body was now used to slap and rattle me. Every time Royce stumbled home indignant, he verbally assaulted me. He had pledged to show me love in ways that my authentic parents couldn't, and now he was doing the exact opposite thing as his once made promise. But what did I anticipate? My life has been cursed since the second I was born. My name is Lacuna, and my parents used it to persuade me that I was blasted, void, and destitute. My previously sensitive and soft skin was now covered with scars, bruises, and marks inflicted by my husband. Several years later, I was fed up with everything; I wanted to leave to part ways with Royce, but he rebuffed, and for the first time, I went against his directives. I couldn't bear to spend more time with him. I articulated my tactics on the spot, and a few days later I was free of him.