Marianne Surrenders by Marco James

CHAPTER 1
     
    As Marianne made her way to Sarah's house, she reminisced about their friendship. They had been the closest of friends since childhood. It was to Sarah that Marianne turned for support when she first learned of her husband Michael's infidelity. She wept and trembled uncontrollably in Sarah's arms that day, as they both sat on the chaiselong in Sarah's grand hallway.
    Sarah lived only thirty minutes away, and Marianne thought the walk would clear her head. Recently she had found herself in a fragile state of mind. Even though it was over seven years since her husband had left, she struggled to rediscover her confidence. As a result, she had been without a partner ever since. Now, at thirty three years of age, she longed more than ever for the companionship of a man.
    Michael was her first and only love. They met at school when they were both fifteen. He was a rough and ready kid from the wrong side of the tracks, but he had a good heart, at least he did back in those days. Every day, on the way home from school, he would offer to carry Marianne's books. Being a shy girl, Marianne would burn with embarrassment, turn crimson, and refuse.
    Finally, after many weeks of pursuit, she succumb to his charms and they spent almost every day together after that, mostly because that's how Michael decided it would be. He would make a lot of the decisions in their relationship.
    A few years later Michael proposed and they were married. As with many relationships spawned from childhood sweethearts, things grew stale. Michael grew bored, and he grew to resent Marianne. She bore the brunt of his wild and controlling nature.
    Being married so young, he worried he'd missed out on too much of his youth and doing the sort of things that young men do. He didn't like being tied down anymore. It wasn't long before the dark side of his personality began to emerge and he returned to his troublesome ways. Run-in's with the law, and late night drinking sessions with his buddies became regular occurrences – sometimes he wouldn't come home for days.
    He often took his frustration out on Marianne. Although he never physically struck her, she was never left in any doubt that he blamed her in some way for something. It didn't matter what.
    Their home began to bear the scars of Michael's explosive temper; holes in walls, broken furniture, shattered door frames. Marianne managed as best she could, but the damage became difficult to mask.
    Sarah's family home was located off the beaten path in a small, semi-rural location. Part of a larger country estate, it was a quiet and safe place to raise children. Each house in the area was completely unique. Sarah's was a large detached house with a wooden porch and well maintained gardens front and rear. Its old stained glass windows were much coveted by the neighbours.
    As she approached, Marianne's mildly optimistic mood turned to one of nervous apprehension. There, in Sarah's front yard, standing adjacent to a newly planted tree, was the figure of a young man, a young man who's face she could not quite place. He was tall, well built, and bare chested. In one hand he held a large garden fork, and with the other he mopped his brow.
    The young man stopped and, leaning against his spade, turned to look at Marianne. He squinted and held his hand up to block the sun from his eyes. She felt him staring intensely as she approached. It was not often that she was observed so enthusiastically and unabashed by anybody. Flustered, and feeling a little vulnerable, she looked at the floor, afraid her face would in some way reveal a dark secret she didn't realise she had.
    She stopped a few paces from him and asked if Sarah was home. Her voice almost never came out, and cracked when it did. She cleared her throat and, with trembling fingers, coyly brushed a few loose strands of auburn hair behind her ear. He didn't answer at first, just continued to gaze. It could have been mistaken for arrogance had there not been