Southern Charms

by S. E. Kloos

  One of the guys that she had gone out with was on the football team with Brandon, and they were still ‘homeboys’. The moment he saw her lips locked with some other guy’s, he had pulled out his phone, taken a picture, and sent it off to Brandon without ever waiting on an explanation about what the fuck that was. Man, did he feel like shit when as soon as he hit send, she kneed Cole in the balls before laying into him about how she had a boyfriend and that was completely uncalled for. However, not bad enough to tell her he did that, though, so she could head it off at the pass. She’d have been able to call Brandon and explain it to him THEN, instead of looking like she was trying to hide it from him.

  That was the first time he hit her.

  She had gotten back from her trip, all excited to see him at the airport, only to be disappointed when he wasn’t there. So she took a cab home and called him once she got to her dorm. He was already there waiting. Not expecting anything to be wrong, she had run as fast as she could through the halls to her room, threw the door open and darted into his arms… or tried to, anyways.

  She remembered the look in his eyes -on his face- when she looked up at him to ask what was wrong, the coldness there. It still sends ice down her spine. His voice was dark, flat when he finally spoke. “Do you have anything you want to tell me, My Darling?”

  She had blinked at the cruelty in his tone, but couldn’t think of anything other than how much she missed him, and told him as much. She would never forget how the back of his hand felt against her cheek, or the growl that seemed to take over his voice when he spoke to her again.

  Fear flooded her chest as she looked up at him from the floor and caught sight of his dark green eyes. “Do not lie to me, Elizabeth. I saw it. I saw the fucking picture of you being a whore with that piece of shit.” He had walked -well, more like stalked- over to her before crouching down, grabbing a handful of her hair, then yanking it back so she would look in his eyes, making her cry out from the pain in her scalp. His face was dark and dangerous, his voice quiet and full of promise. “You are mine, do you understand me? If you so much as ever look at another man again, I will rip your fucking eyes out. You belong to me and I swear to god, if any man ever touches you like that again, I will kill him. Do you understand me, you little bitch?”

  Her body was vibrating with fear as she tried to nod, her voice so soft that it was nearly lost to wind. “Yes, I understand Brandon.”

  The smirk on his perfect face was nothing but that of a demon as he stared at her for a second before shoving her away from him by the grip he still had on her hair. As he stood, he looked down his nose at her, “Good girl. We have reservations for dinner tonight at six.”

  Then he left without another word.

  Sniffling softly and wiping the tears from her cheeks, Elizabeth rolled over, curling into a ball as other times he abused her assaulted her memory. There were so many, and every one was worse than the last. For six months, it went on. Over that time, she had gotten broken ribs, cuts, bruises, a broken arm and a sprained wrist. Sure, she had tried to defend herself a few times in the beginning, who wouldn’t? But, she was ten inches shorter than he was, as well as about fifty or more pounds lighter. She never stood a chance in Hell against him. The last time Brandon was physical like that with her was the first time she tried to leave, which was the reason she was where she was now.

  Family and friends had come up for graduation, including Cole. She tried to keep her distance, tried her damnedest to not get too close to him, and stuck by Brandon’s side the whole time. That wasn’t the world’s best plan she knew, but it was the only one she had to work with when she saw him come into the room with her dad. Thankfully, Cole had gone over to the buffet nearly immediately, so she was able to go say hi to her dad without it looking something it wasn’t.

  Everything was going well. She was having so much fun that she had forgotten, for only a moment, that nothing was alright. She said hi to Cole when he had come over with her father as they were getting ready to leave. She honestly hadn’t given it a thought at that moment. She really should have.

  Brandon had ended up seeing them.

  It was three hours later that they had left the party, her still on her happy high of finally graduating college, getting to see everyone… of knowing that in only a few days, she would be off to the other side of the world, on a vacation that her parents had gone in on together for her.

  She didn’t see the warning sign until it was too late.

  Once they got back to the apartment that they had gotten together, the second the door closed, she found herself slammed into the wall with an irate Brandon in her face, sneering and glaring at her. All she could do was stare back, uncomprehending as to what she had done to cause this. Fear filled her being as he continued to look in her eyes, a sick, twisted satisfaction entering his eyes at the terror in hers.

  Time seemed to crawl in slow motion as she saw his hand come up, only to speed up as that hand came flying at her face. It connected, snapping her head both to the side and back into the wall, a cry ripping from her lips that she couldn’t silence if she tried.

  She didn’t remember hitting the floor, but looking up from the middle of the living room carpet, she took a guess at how she got there. Wide eyed and terrified, she stared at Brandon from her position as he continued to glare at her. Her lips trembling, she tried to get her tongue to work, to ask what brought on his anger this time, but she never got the chance.

  A blood curdling scream ripped from her throat as Brandon dove at her. She scrambled back, but wasn’t fast enough to get completely out of the way. She dug her fingers into the carpet when she felt Brandon grab her ankle. She jerked against him, trying to get free, but felt herself get dragged back.

  She couldn’t describe the feeling of petrification that gripped her. She couldn’t tell anyone how terrified she had been of the look in his wild eyes when she looked over her shoulder. She didn’t know what it was that came over her in that moment, but she rolled to her back and used the foot that wasn’t in his grip it kick with everything she had. The sole of her shoe connected with his forehead. It wasn’t what she was aiming for, but it had the desired effect. He let her go, so she took her chance, rolling to her feet and dashing out of the house before she got really hurt.

  She got out the door. She got to the end of the balcony. She got to the top of the steps.

  That was as far as she got.

  She felt his hand grab her by the hair, then yank her back from her only exit point before she hit the concrete walkway. She screamed again when she felt her shoulder crack before the side of her head met the pavement.

  She must have lost her sight for a minute or two because when she looked up, she expected to see Brandon over her, but it wasn’t him. It was one of the guys that lived on the floor below them, who she had seen at the mailbox a time or two. She saw his lips moving, but couldn’t hear the words coming out of his mouth. She saw the anger and concern warring in his eyes, but couldn’t react to it. She did, however, jump a mile out of her skin when he touched her though.

  All the sound that was muted was now roaring in her ears as the reality of the situation crashed into her. She tried to push herself up to a sitting position, crying out again when the shoulder that was popped out of its socket was moved. When the guy -Matt, she thought- reached to help her, she jerked back out of reflex, looking at him in complete terror.

  He gave her an unthreatening smile as he held his hands up. “I’m not going to hurt you, Sweetheart. I’m just going to help you sit up.” He had moved with exaggerated slowness, pausing right before he touched her, then gently slid an arm under her ribs, pulled her into a sitting position, and kept hold of her when she swayed a bit. He had dipped his head to catch her eyes. When he saw her looking back at him, he spoke quietly. “We heard you scream. The police are on their way.” Then he broke off eye contact to glance over his shoulder at his roommate, who had taken it upon himself to restrain the son of a bitch, before turning b
ack to Elizabeth. “Do you think you can walk?”

  Blinking and confused, she just looked at him, not understanding to what was going on at the moment. All she knew was that her shoulder hurt, her head hurt, and her face was killing her. When she didn’t say anything, the guy sighed before changing how he was holding on to her, slipping an arm under her bent knees and the other behind her back. Being extremely mindful of her shoulder, he lifted her from the ground into his arms, carried her down the other end of the walkway to the other set of steps, then down into the courtyard.

  As he was setting her down on one of the benches, one of the other tenants made their way over, having heard the commotion from the rescue. “Is everything alright?”

  Both she and Matt turned to the new voice, the surfacing bruise on her face catching the old lady’s attention, with Matt seeing it out of the corner of his eye again. He turned back to her for a second before looking at his neighbor. “I think she’s in shock, Miss Adams. Can you get her a glass of water?” Once the old lady went to fetch a bottle of water from her fridge, Matt turned back to Elizabeth, snapping his fingers in front of her face to see the reaction it had.

  She screamed and jerked away, nearly falling backwards off the bench.

  Matt caught her before that could happen, apologized, and told her that everything was going to alright now, that she was safe. She didn’t even know what that word meant any more. She would never be safe again.

  While she was in her own little world, Matt was looking up at the balcony where his roommate had the son of bitch pinned to the ground, holding his face to the hard and unforgiving concrete by the fucked up hair on his head with a knee in his back. Patrick’s mother was in this kind of relationship for years and Pat didn’t play that game. He took a massive amount of pleasure in beating the hell out of guys that got their rocks off hitting a woman that was half their size, much like the girl he was tending to was in comparison to the guy that was making out with the floor. It was five minutes later that they heard the sounds of the sirens coming down their street.

  Elizabeth brought her hand up to her face, gently touching the cheek that was still bruised and tender from the hit she took, which was hard enough to crack the bone.

  Seven minutes. It took them seven minutes to get to the apartment after the 911 call was made. She shuddered to think about what might have happened had Matt and Patrick not been home that night. She had been taken to the hospital, treated and released that night.

  She had called Cole to pick her up.

  The next morning she was in a courtroom for Brandon’s arraignment on charges of domestic violence and assault 1. She was granted a restraining order. He was granted bail. An hour later, he was nowhere to be found. Two hours after that she was on a plane to the middle of BFE Texas, to stay with her mother’s brother that Brandon didn’t know about, in a small little town no one ever heard of until he could be found.

  Since the charges were not that severe in the overall eyes of the law, no one was hoping for the manhunt to last for more than a day or two... not with murderers and rapists running around the country. Plus, Brandon had the means to be just about anywhere by the time he was discovered to have run. Her father had some friends that owed him a favor or two, from his time in the service. He was able to call in some of those to get Brandon’s face on the news a few times, before they too, would stop.

  She had to leave everything back home that could be used to find her. Her car, credit cards, cell phone. She only had her money because she closed her account and got cash, instead of a cashier’s check. She lost everything, while he was probably lying on a fucking beach somewhere.

  Elizabeth sighed as she hugged herself tighter. She was here by her own choice. She knew, without a doubt in her mind, that if Brandon found her, he would kill her... restraining order be damned. Brandon was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, raised to think he was better than everyone, above the law. He would walk right through it and she would never walk again.

  A rough sob shook her frame as more tears tracked down her cheeks. She had thought she was being quiet, that she couldn’t be heard… she was wrong. There was only a short rap on the door for a warning before the door was open, the light from the hall flooding her room. It illuminated her face and the horrendous discoloration of her skin, which went from hairline to chin, and ear to over her nose. She wasn’t fast enough to hide before her aunt saw it.

  Steff’s hand came to her mouth to catch the gasp before she dropped it to her chest. “Good gracious.” Moving faster than she had ever known her aunt to move, Steff was sitting on the edge of her bed and pulling her into her arms, holding her tight to her chest.

  Elizabeth was, at that point, tired of trying to be strong anymore. Fisting her hands in a white knuckle grip on her aunt’s nightgown, she broke down, crying hard, body shaking sobs.

  Steff just held her niece tightly to her, running her fingers through her hair and down her back, letting her get it all out while rocking her back and forth like she did when the girl was just a tiny tike. It had been over fifteen years since the last time she had seen Elizabeth, though this was the very last reason she would have ever wanted to.

  She turned to the doorway at the feeling of being watched, only to see her husband standing there. His normally bright, sky blue eyes were darker than the deepest part of the ocean. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen him so angry, or even if she ever had. This little angel in her arms was his sugar, his little Eribeth. She couldn’t even imagine what he was feeling at the moment, as his only niece bawled like a babe in her arms over something that should never have happened.

  Both of them knew there was more to the story than what they were told, when they were called out of the blue to find out if she could stay with them for a while, but neither one of them had any intention of asking her about it. If it came out that was one thing, but by the sight of her face, they were not going to be the ones to cause her even more pain than she was in.

  Elizabeth cried in her aunt’s arms for what felt like ages before she finally ended up crying herself to sleep. Steff held her a few moments longer before very slowly and carefully laying her down, then pulling her covers up to her chin. Brushing Elizabeth’s bangs out of her face, Steff bent down to kiss her forehead softly so she didn’t hurt her. She then stood to leave the room, closing the door behind her.

  Leaning back against it, she closed her eyes and sighed while looking at her husband. “What are we gonna do for that girl, Marshal?”

  Asking God for the patience of a saint, his gaze moved from the ceiling to his wife a short moment before nodding down the hall to their room. “We gonna let her rest for as long as she wants for now. We’ll figure things out better than that later, when we ain’t so upset.”

  As Steff walked with her husband to go to bed, her head snapped up to look at him. “What about church?”

  Marshal cocked a brow at his wife. “How many times you think that girl asked God for help but it never came? If she gets out of bed early enough and wants to go, then fine, but I ain’t about to be forcin’ her to do nothin’ she don’t wanna, ya hear? You ain’t either. She got enough shit on her plate to deal with, she don’t be needin’ that, too.”

  Chapter 4

  The next morning, a very groggy and drained Elizabeth was pulled out of the land of dreams by the mouthwatering aroma of cinnamon. Pushing herself up, wincing slightly at the protest of her still hurt shoulder, she took a breath of the scent she missed like you wouldn’t believe.

  Aunt Steff’s made from scratch sticky buns.

  All but leaping out of bed, she grabbed her brush, then darted to the bathroom to take care of business, using the brush to style her hair in a way to cover the worst of the bruise. The way she figured it, they had seen it last night. There was no reason to spend forever covering it with makeup, when this would take care of the worst of it. Plus, those sticky buns where the best right out of the oven. She just hoped that they were still w
ithin ten minutes of being taken out. That was when they were her favorite.

  Thundering down the steps, she slid across the wood floors into the dining room, slipping on a rug but catching herself before she fell, continuing on into the kitchen just in time to see her Aunt pull a tray out. Bouncing on the tips of her toes, she squealed out loud before shouting, “I call the center bun!”

  Her aunt’s laughter rang out in the kitchen as she turned to look at her niece, taking in the childlike excitement over something as simple as the center sticky bun. Smiling wide, “Mercy, Punken, it’s just a…”

  Elizabeth was already shaking her head. “It isn’t JUST anything but the greatest thing in the whole world, Aunt Steffy.” Then her brows flew up her forehead, “Wait, Uncle Marsh didn’t call it, did he? I swear I’ll piss in his Wheaties if he called my sticky bun.”

  There was a deep laugh behind her calling her attention, her glaring attention, over her shoulder at her uncle. He was standing, leaning a hip on the counter. “You’ll do what now, Eribeth?”

  Elizabeth cocked a brow at her uncle, her voice flat and snarky as she repeated herself. “I said I’ll piss in your Wheaties if you called my sticky bun.”

  Snorting hard and shaking his head, Marshal waved his hand to the tray, “Your Aunt Steffy baked them up special for you, Sug. That whole batch is yours.”

  Squealing like a pig in heat, she whipped back around to pounce on her aunt, repeatedly kissing her cheek while saying ‘thank you’ between every one. In the next second, she was grabbing a plate off the counter, picking up the tongs, then fishing out her favorite one before the time of perfection passed.

  Once she had it out and took her first bite of it, Marshal cleared his throat a bit to call her attention to him. When he had it, “Your aunt and I are gonna be headin’ off to church here in a few minutes. If you rather not go, that’s just fine.”

  Pausing with her teeth half way through the sticky bun, she thought about it for a moment before taking her bite. Once she swallowed, she looked at her uncle, “I would really rather not.”