Perfectly Wrong (Elena & Sam Musical)

Prologue

I considered hiding behind the sofa, where he wouldn’t see me, but that was wishful thinking. Noah would turn the house upside down until he found me. He was furious—no, it was worse than that. He was seething. He wanted revenge and wouldn’t stop until he got it.

“Who is he?” my husband yelled, taking heavy steps toward the TV room on the second floor where I was. I had to get out of that house. I needed to find an escape as soon as possible. “WHO’S THE FUCKER YOU’RE SLEEPING WITH?”

“No one!” I repeated senselessly, but he wouldn’t listen. “Noah, please, stop! I’m not seeing anyone else!”

It was a ridiculous scene: there I was, pleading for my life to the man who had once promised to love me and make me happy no matter the circumstances. As he marched toward me, the portraits on the side table crashed to the floor. Noah destroyed our happy memories in one fell swoop, and I couldn’t let myself think about what he would do to me if he got the chance.

I was cornered between the couch and the wall. Behind me were only windows, and I knew I’d get hurt if I jumped. Noah grabbed the crystal vase we had bought the week before from the side table. It was one of my favorite pieces, and he knew it. According to him, he had been so captivated by the shine in my eyes when I saw it that he simply had to get it.

“Let’s see what your lover thinks of your face once it’s been cut up by glass shards.” A cruel smirk spread across his face, his eyes vacant. “Let’s see if he’ll still want to fuck you when that perfect skin I’ve paid for all these years is ruined.”

“Noah, please don’t do this.” I struggled to breathe, scanning my surroundings for a way out.

Honestly, I couldn’t care less about my face being ruined. First of all, I didn’t have a lover, and second, all I wanted was a divorce! That was all I had said that evening when he got home from work. I had calmly and conciliatorily told him that it wasn’t working anymore and that I wanted my old life back. That had been enough to set him off.

“You should’ve thought of that before cheating on me, Elena! You should’ve thought about those ‘Noah, please don’t do this’ before sharing his bed like the fucking whore that you are!”

He was so close I could smell him—once a scent I loved, now it sent chills down my spine. He only needed to take a few more steps, and that vase would end up smashed against my face. It scared me less than the anticipated pain from it later. What if shards got in my eyes and left me blind? What would he do if I passed out? Would he keep torturing me until he killed me? What if he thought I’d died and buried me alive? It was then that panic set in. I looked around again and noticed one of the windows was open. Without hesitating, I ran toward it.

“You’re not that brave, Elena,” he mocked, approaching me with a smirk. “You’re afraid of heights, remember? Look down, Elena. Look how far you are from the ground.”

Noah was right, and I was terrified of what would happen if I jumped. I was practically counting how many bones might remain intact after jumping from a two-story window, if I even survived it. But nothing terrified me more than the man standing just two feet away. I gazed at his beautiful face, my heart heavy with sorrow as I climbed onto the windowsill, my lungs seemingly rejecting the air I tried to breathe.

“Elena!” His tone changed, a desperate attempt to regain my attention, to manipulate me as he had for nine long years.

My husband reached out, and I closed my eyes, letting myself fall. I felt his nails scrape against my right arm just as my feet lifted off, granting me a strange sense of freedom. Mere moments later, I woke up.