Chapter 2: Fairy Tales and Nightmares
To understand the depth of the hole Marcus threw me into, to understand why seeing him in that hospital made my heart race, I have to turn back time. You need to know who the Bernice of twenty-five years ago was. You have to know the fragile woman who believed his promises, who held his hand when he swore eternal love, who carried his son in her womb, thinking she was building a paradise.
I met Marcus when I was twenty-six. I was an administrative assistant at an accounting firm, a small-town girl from Alabama, simple and naive. He was the new sales manager, fresh from Chicago, full of grand plans, expensive suits, and smooth talk. He had that big-city charm that absolutely dazzled me. He talked about trips abroad, brand-new luxury cars, and five-star restaurants.
He courted me in a way I had never experienced. Flowers were sent to the office daily, dinners were at places I couldn’t afford to look at, promises of a queen’s life were whispered in my ear. He told me I was special, different from the ‘ambitious girls’ chasing after him. For a girl who had never really left the state, all of that seemed like a fairy tale.
We got married after only six months of dating. It was a beautiful wedding, over 200 guests, a hall packed with imported lilies that cost an arm and a leg. In the photos from that day, my smile was real. My eyes shone with hope. I truly believed I had found the love of my life.
The first few months were fine. Marcus worked a lot, made good money, and at his request, I quit my job to take care of the house. He said his wife shouldn’t have to work, that it was a sign he was failing as a provider. Back then, I thought it was romantic, a sign of devotion. Later, I understood it was pure, calculated control. He wanted me to depend entirely on him for survival.
