by KA Graham
“Bella! Do you think it's going to be that easy? I will always find you! We belong together. Who knows and loves you more than I do? No one!”
“Jackson, please! Just let me go. I deserve to be happy, and this isn't happiness. It's misery. I'd rather be alone for the rest of my life then be treated this way any longer. Your love is killing me. Don't you understand?”
He drops his arms in defeat, almost looking ashamed, but it won't work this time. Before I walk out the door, I whisper, “I will always keep you in my heart. Please find your way back to the man you once were. Save yourself, before it’s too late.” I shed unwanted tears, but my heart is shattered for the life we once had and the man he once was, which seems like lifetimes ago.
I run for my car, locking it, and attempt to speed out of the driveway. Not being able to stop the tears from falling, I back into the wooden fence that seems to have come out of nowhere. That’s sure to piss the neighbor off, but he’s a prick anyways, so whatever. I see Jackson standing outside, seething and spitting, as he calls out my name. How I ever thought this was love, is beyond me. Love is unconditional; it never waivers and isn't supposed to hurt this much. As a matter of fact, it shouldn’t hurt at all.
2
You can run, but you can't hide, beautiful.
Weeks have turned into months, and I’m no closer to my plan of leaving than I was before. It seems so far-fetched, but when I get a call from Jackson asking me to pick him up from jail for the umpteenth time, I know I have to make a move to break this cycle. He calls. I run to him. Over and over again.
He was pulled over for speeding, and after finding a used meth pipe in the passenger seat, the cops hauled him off with no excuses or claims of innocence to be had. The cops in this county know him by name, seeing how he’s been in and out of trouble for years. He got off easy this time, only because the pipe wasn’t loaded. Go figure.
When I walked out on him months ago, I should've never looked back, but he convinced me I was his everything, and I wanted to trust him. I've continued to help him, let him fuck me on occasion, and then curse myself for doing so. Ridiculous, I know.
The games I’m willing to play.
I'm his escape, always have been, and when I refused to pick him up this time, all hell broke loose. He doesn’t need jail, he needs rehab. When are the authorities going to figure this out? I tried a few times to convince him of this, but all I got from it was a verbal lashing and some fresh bruises to the face.
He always goes for the face.
He rarely hears a refusal come out of my mouth, and it set him the fuck off. I never thought I'd have the strength to stand up to him, and it feels strange, almost wrong. Yes, I feel fucking guilty, which is absolutely absurd. His mindfuckery has turned me into a weak, gullible person. A person I never thought I'd become. That’s the life you lead when you’re with an abuser. They convince you that they're your sun and moon, and that your life begins and ends with them.
I've slowly saved what little money I could and called my best friend Raelynn. She told me to pack what would fit in my car, and we’d figure out the rest when I'm safe in South Carolina. Yes, it seems cliche to take off to a small town, running from your past, but it's the current plan. The only one I have. It's my only solid option in my current state.
I empty my bank account, go to the dump of a motel I've been staying at, quickly pack what little belongings I have, and get the fuck out of there. Jackson has flat out told me he's coming for what's his, which in his eyes, is me. He's pissed and looking for any excuse to draw me back in. Any excuse to take his anger out. That spells trouble for me, in more ways than one. Guilt washes over me. I know I failed at saving him, but in my heart, I know it’s above and beyond what I’m capable of. I've exhausted myself trying to save and protect him, especially from himself.
I don’t give two shits about my dead-end job, so I leave a brief and to-the-point voice message telling them I won’t be coming back. It's not like it really matters. They’ll find another slave in no time, and I’ll be a forgotten memory. So long, asshats! I'd say thanks for the good times, but there weren’t any to be had. And to think, this was supposed to be my dream job. I worked my ass off for that fucking company, and for what?
I’m pretty sure Jackson doesn't have a clue where I've been staying, so I ease up a little, trying to get my head sorted. I feel like my life is flashing before my weary eyes, but in a way, I'm exhilarated for the first time in years. This is a good thing. I have to trust my gut for once in my life. What else do I have, right? I feel like everything’s been leading up to this point, and it’s now or never. Do or die.
Just as I'm loading the last bit of my things into my car, the texts and voicemails start rolling in. I ignore them the best I can. That bastard thinks he has the upper hand, but I’ll prove him wrong. He won't get the last word this time. I’m taking back what little life I have left from the monster that took so much from me already. He can rot in his own hell for all I care. Caring is what got me into this mess, to begin with.
Loving a monster didn’t end well for me.
Love isn’t supposed to be one-sided. It takes two devoted hearts, not just one. Jackson’s heart was lost the first time he took a hit of meth. Since then, he’s become darkness, with no light to be seen.
I don’t know much about Jackson’s life before me, but he’s mentioned his parents were, “two worthless pieces of shit that used their son for anything they thought would benefit them.” He got away from their bullshit, built a life for himself, yet ended up just like them. I guess he was more like his parents than he wanted to admit. Such a terrible waste of life.
Jackson: Bella, you've proved your point. I'm sorry, beautiful. I need help. You’re the only one I trust. Please! I will get clean and stay clean this time. I swear to you. Don’t leave me alone. I will die on my own.
Me: I can't. And you won't. I won't let you drag me down any further. You need professional help. I’ve tried so many times, but you just took it for granted. Our problems are beyond just the drugs. The cheating has made me feel inadequate as a woman. I’m not enough to satisfy your needs. Goodbye, Jackson.
Jackson: You fucking bitch! When I find you, you will pay for this. You can't just run from me and think I will forget about it. It's never going to happen. I love you, Isabella. I’m nothing without you, beautiful. No one can take you from me. I will kill anyone who tries. Those sluts mean nothing to me, you have to know that. It was the drugs. That's not who I am, Isabella. You know me.
His back and forth ranting tells me he's high. One minute he loves me, the next, he despises me. I've gotten used to it over the years and can recognize it in his behavior. Sadly, it's all I know. It's what kept me hanging on when I should've ran, but now the hate has outgrown the love. He just can't see it. Or won't.
“You will never be free from me, Isabella. I love you more than any other man ever will. You're mine. No one will ever touch what is mine. EVER! I promise you that!” are the last words I hear when I listen to Jackson's voicemail. His words echo in my mind, and I know he’ll make good on that promise. In his thoughts and words, it’s clear he thinks I’m leaving him for another man, but I’m leaving him for me. It's time to fix what he's broken. I want Isabella Kramer back.
The first time Jackson put his hands on me out of anger, I was stunned speechless. I came home from grocery shopping, had forgotten a stupid can of peaches he requested, and he went into a rage. All over some fucking canned fruit. It seems so petty in a sane person's eyes, but to Jackson, it was a mistake I’d pay for and a lesson he'd be sure to teach me.
He punched me so hard in the side of my jaw that I was seeing stars, all while trying not to pass out. Worse things happen when you pass out. Always worse. I learned that the hard way and skilled myself in breathing through the pain. It’s like he got off on causing me pain. It was a twisted rush for him. Afterward, the apologies and the “Please, forgive me” came. Like a lovesick fool, I always forgave him but knew de
ep down it wouldn't be the last time. I'd screw up again. I always did.
“Why do you make me do this, Bella? It hurts me just as much as it hurts you. Haven't you learned that yet? Just do as your told, and everything will be fine, beautiful. Don't make me turn your beauty into something ugly. Your beautiful face is the only brightness in my dark world.”
I tried to fix my “accidents" on my own, never wanting others to see what Jackson was capable of doing to me. Yes, I was protecting him, but in a twisted way, I thought I was protecting myself as well. It made sense to me at the time, but now I see how wrong I was.
Makeup doesn’t cover up internal scars.
I think he actually liked when I looked like a mess, because then there was less of a chance of anyone else looking at me. Or wanting me. He wasn't stupid. It just took me a while to catch on to his games. He played them well and had the upper hand when it came to me, knowing I would never leave. No matter what he did to me. Or so he thought; we both thought.
I made the mistake of giving him my bank account number when we were still together. He apparently needed money, because he's seen I've drained the account. That's when the calls started, and I turned my phone off. I can't take it anymore. I’m afraid a straitjacket and a white room are what my future holds if I don’t break the ties.
I crush the shit out of my phone, knowing he can probably put a trace on it, or already has, and head to the nearest store for a prepaid one. It's a fast fix, but will do for now.
I look in the rearview mirror, and see the bruises slowly fading on my face from the drunken, sex-fueled night I mistakenly had with him a few weekends ago. I was lonely, and in need of the sexual release he always gave me. I knew I was weak and would eventually pay for it, cursing myself silently as soon as his limp and sated cock was out of me. You know it's over and unsatisfying when you have to fake an orgasm. He knew it too, thanks to the multiple slaps across my face I was rewarded with.
He mistakenly assumed I was seeing someone else, yelling, “Has someone else been inside this pussy, Bella? Is that why I can’t get you off? You’ve been used up? I knew you were a no-good, cheating slut masquerading as this sweet and innocent little thing.”
Slap...
“Jackson, there’s no one else. Even if there was, it wouldn't be cheating. We aren't together anymore. I knew this was a mistake. I'm sorry if I lead you on. I was lonely, and yes, I do miss you. The old you.”
Slap...
“Good excuse. Don't play with me, Bella. You wanted this as much as I did. Quit saying it was a fucking mistake! Nothing between us is a mistake.”
Slap...
Seeing what Jackson has done to me - the physical proof - is enough to make me realize that I have to set myself free from the prison he's put me in. No one deserves to live a life where you're scared and always on edge, feeling like a caged bird.
As if he can hear me, I silently plead, “Please save yourself, Jackson. Be the man I know you can be. My love for you wasn't enough, but I hope someday you find that love for yourself.”
3
How rough is too rough, when you think it’s what you want?
It’s only been a few hours on the road and my paranoia is getting the best of me. Memories of Jackson and me in better times come flooding back, and I despise it. They claw at my brain, until I have to pull over at the next rest stop for a smoke. Hell, if I had a joint, I’d probably smoke that too! I never got into the drug scene, even being surrounded by Jackson and his habits. It just didn’t appeal to me, or rather, I saw what it did to him, and I wanted nothing to do with it.
He was a ray of sunshine when I suddenly lost my parents in a freak car accident. They were blindsided by a drunk driver who fell asleep at the wheel, careening into my parent’s lane of traffic on the freeway, killing them instantly. I lost the only people I ever truly loved and trusted with all my heart. The driver got a hefty fine, five years probation, and extended community service. He basically got off on a technicality due to no witnesses wanting to come forward. I was left with a broken heart and an emptiness in my entire being. That's what I got out of it. Emptiness.
Ironically enough, I met Jackson at the hospital the night they brought my parent’s bodies into the morgue. He was what you called a patient advocate. Yes, hard to believe, but he was one of the good guys at the time. Always willing to help others. Loved life and everyone he came in contact with. But over time, he became the monster from my nightmares, which became my daily reality. It’s amazing how a person can change in the blink of an eye. He started hanging out with a different group of people, and that was all she wrote.
“If I only knew then, what I know now,” I whisper to myself. Really though, who am I kidding? I’d probably still go down the same damn dirt road. My heart speaks louder than my head ever could. My parents taught me to be a loving, caring woman, even if that meant being crushed in the process. The good ones usually are, but they somehow find a way to persevere and stay true to who they are.
I remember the first time we made love. Not just sex, actual love. It was mind-blowing, and afterward I became obsessed. I never knew how much I needed or wanted someone to dominate me sexually, but fuck me, it was everything I needed. He became my salvation. The way he worked his cock, tongue, and fingers, was something out of an erotic romance novel. It became an obsession, one I craved desperately. Once he knew he had me in his grip, the romance quickly faded, replaced by violent aggression.
When he began to choke me a little too violently during sex, I was turned on at first, but when I saw the bruises around my throat the next morning, I realized we had different ideas of kink. I had a thing for being sexually dominated, but when the pleasure turns into unwanted pain, it's no longer desirable. It’s abuse. There has to be a line.
He slowly became more possessive, picking fights with any man that talked or even looked my way. On one of the rare occasions he took me out, we went to a local bar for a few drinks. I innocently dropped my napkin on the floor, and some random guy stopped and picked it up.
“Thank you.” I made the mistake of looking the guy in his eyes when I spoke to him. I'd pay dearly for it later.
“No worries. Have a good night, ma’am.” He didn't make it far before Jackson was grabbing him, hauling him back to our table and making sure I witnessed what happened to men who dared show any interest in me. Romantic or not.
Handing my napkin back to me earned him a black eye. Later that night, after being kicked out of the bar, Jackson showed me just who was in charge and where his anger lied.
You mess with the bull, you get the horns.
“No man touches what's mine, Bella. Why can't you understand that? Why do you insist on making me angry? I love you so fucking much. Just do what I say. That’s all you have to do. That’s all I ask. Let me show you how much I love you, my beautiful Bella. Let me make you feel good. Just me and you. That's all we’ll ever need.”
“He didn't mean anything by it, Jackson. Sometimes people just do nice things with no other intent involved. I'm sorry if you thought differently.” I should've kept my mouth shut, but I didn't.
My smart ass mouth is always getting me into trouble.
“Bella, just stop. Stop defending a man who insulted me right in front of my face. He wanted to fuck you! He wanted what's mine!”
We made it as far as the hallway before he stripped off my clothes, pinning me against the wall, knocking picture frames down in the process. Kneeling in front of me, lifting both my legs over his shoulders like I weigh nothing, he spreads my pussy wide open with just his tongue. Licking and sucking like a madman, he pushes two fingers into me, slowly. He knows just what to do to drive me crazy while making me forget why we were arguing just minutes ago.
“Oh, god! Don't stop. I need more, Jackson! Harder, baby!” I grab his hair roughly, pulling him back, then pushing him forward.
“My Bella is greedy for this cock, isn't she? Let me finish teasing my pussy, then I will be so deep inside you, I'
ll be all you see. All you feel.” He slides his fingers out of my pussy, licking them clean one by one while keeping his eyes on me the whole time. “Keep your eyes on me, Bella. Always keep your eyes on me.”
“Please, Jackson…” I give him my “innocent" look that makes him soften his ways. For a brief moment, but it’s worth it. I miss that look in his eye. The one he got when our relationship was new and pure. No hatred. No regrets. No pain. Just love.
“No need to beg, beautiful. Bend over, hands against the wall, and show me that amazing ass of yours. Keep your hands against the wall. Understand?” He grabs and squeezes my ass cheeks so hard, I feel it in my toes.
Stroking his rock hard cock, he slams into me from behind, pushing my face into the wall. I didn’t realize at first, but he decided tonight he'd take my ass. It was a first for me, and let me just say; I'm not a fan. I felt violated, and everything about it was wrong. I know I won't last long, so when he thrusts a few more times while pinching my clit, he explodes inside me, and I orgasm right alongside him. My face is throbbing from being slammed into the wall, but right now, all I feel is the sensations of him lighting my body on fire. I will deal with the pain tomorrow, like always.
I slowly became one of those women who hid the bruises and marks with makeup and clothes that covered my entire body. I no longer wanted to be around anyone. I knew this wasn't the life I wanted, and my parents would’ve been heartbroken by what had become of me. Shame overwhelmed me, but yet all I wanted to do was make Jackson happy. That's all that ever mattered.
