Something Other than Fear

by Taylor, Kerry

  “He won’t Matt! He’s not that bad. He just gets angry!”

  “ENOUGH!” Matt shouted at the top of his voice, making me flinch. I had never seen him so angry. “If you choose to go back to him, I won’t be here Lucy. I can’t watch him hurt you…….I can’t. I love you more than I can say, but I won’t stand by and watch him kill you. You’re on your own if you choose to go back, I’m sorry Darling, but that’s my decision. I cannot be around to watch you suffer. I love you too much for that.” He said sadly. And that was my choice I realised as tears ran down my face. Either I had the security of my familiar life with Phil or I took a risk and left with Matt. Only there was no real choice, losing Matt was terrifying, but losing everything I knew, everything that was secure, was more terrifying.

  I got to my feet and approached Matt. He was panting, he had gotten so angry and there were tears in his eyes. I wrapped my arms tightly about him and squeezed him as hard as I could, knowing it could be my last chance. Matt embraced me tightly and we just remained like that for as long as possible. Finally I pulled back and looked into his pain filled face.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I love you.” And then I walked towards the door of the room. I opened it and stepped out.

  “Lucy!” Matt called. I turned back to look at him. There were tears running down his cheeks, as there were down mine too. “One day you’ll come to your senses and you’ll get out and on that day I will be there for you. I love you Darling.” He said firmly. I smiled at him, then pulled the door closed behind me. I was sobbing broken heartedly as I stepped into the lift. I had just walked away from the one person on this earth who loved me, and I didn’t really know why. All I knew was I wasn’t ready to leave Phil, not yet. He had a hold on me which I had to find a way to break before I could leave.

  Phil came to collect me from the hotel that morning. I paid for going with Matt when I got home and I had to spend the next two days in bed, I was so severely injured from the beating I received.

  I didn’t speak to Matt after that. He never called or wrote to me and neither did I, him. I spoke to Jack more often on my secret mobile when Phil was out, and he would keep me updated on Matt and provide a small relief from the hell I was in, which helped, but other than that I was completely alone and Phil’s violent outbursts were only becoming more often and more intense.

  I slipped into a deep depression a couple of months after falling out with Matt. I didn’t care about anything anymore. I simply went through the motions each day. Nothing made me smile anymore, nothing made me happy. Even Jack noticed on the phone, but I just put him off with excuses. My life was a living nightmare and the only way I could handle it was to block it out and try not to give in to any emotion. I stopped caring about myself, stopped taking care of my hair and nails or wearing makeup. I rarely even bothered to get dressed in anything other than joggers and a t-shirt, which made Phil even angrier and brought me more beatings, but I wasn’t there anymore. I had gone to a place of darkness, where I could block out the hell that was my life.

  I all but stopped eating, surviving on the very bear minimum that I could keep moving on and nothing more, just wanting to control something in my life. Every ounce of fat on my tiny frame disappeared and I became nothing more than skin and bone, my face gaunt with huge black circles under my eyes. I constantly felt weak and shaky, but it didn’t matter. I hoped one day I might just disappear. At least then it would all be over.

  When Phil attacked me I tried hard to stay emotionless, just allow him to do as he pleased and not care, but I was still terrified each time he started and I tried, every time to defend myself and stop him. It was my instinct I suppose, but in a way I wished I could just let him get on with it and finish me off, end my misery for good.

  That night, when he had caught me putting the rubbish out, I thought maybe that was the night. He looked angry enough to kill me.

  “You are a lying fucking whore! I saw you flirting with him over the fence!” Phil hissed as he pressed his body against mine.

  “I……I wasn’t…….I was just……..”

  “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Phil shouted at the top of his voice. He shoved me with huge force across the room. I was shaking uncontrollably, a mix of terror and adrenaline. I hit the wall across the room hard and cried out as my wrist bent back the wrong way. I hit the front of my head on the wall and things became fuzzy for a moment. When I could see clearly again Phil loomed over me, rage in his face. “You belong to me Lucy, only me. I think you need reminding of that!” He raged as he laid into me, kicking me until he was too tired to continue. Then he was straddling me, punching my face and chest with such force that I was barely conscious by the time he started pulling off my joggers and underwear.

  “No…..Please, don’t Phil!” I sobbed weakly as he pulled them down to my knees roughly and then he was on top of me, raping me viciously and groping my already savagely beaten breasts.

  “You’re mine Lucy. You whore around once more and I’ll remind you properly!” He hissed when he was finished.

  “Fuck you!” I cried as loud as I could through the pain, anger overtaking fear for that moment.

  He stood up, looked down at me and laughed, then stamped on my wrist with such force I heard and felt it crush. I screamed and then he was bent down, looming over me again. He wrapped one hand around my throat and squeezed with more force than I realised him capable of and raised his other hand in a fist in front of my face. I stared at him, sobbing and gasping for oxygen, terrified that was it, he really was going to kill me.

  “One punch!” He spat. “That’s all it would take! One punch and I could fucking kill you! Is that what you want? Do you want me to kill you?”

  “No!” I cried instinctively. After months of wishing it would all end, he had finally reached the point where he may actually do it and suddenly all I could think was I wanted to live. “Please don’t!” I sobbed. My voice barely came out between my fight for air and the pressure he exerted on my throat, but he heard me.

  “Stupid bitch!” He shouted as he released my throat, then he stood, turned and left. I heard the front door slam and his car fly out of the drive.

  I cried, loud, gasping, wailing howls as I laid for a moment trying to think about where specifically hurt and then I realised, everywhere did. My face was swelling rapidly, and I was struggling to breathe. Maybe I had finally got my wish, I was going to die. Only it wasn’t my wish anymore. In that moment when Phil had asked me if I wanted to die, I had said no. It had happened, as Matt had predicted, I suddenly saw things clearly. I was laid, suffering unspeakably from injuries I had allowed a man to inflict upon me, for what? Because I loved him? No, I didn’t love him, in fact I hated him with all of my being. Suddenly it dawned on me that I had allowed this maniac, this monster to steal over three years of my life and if I had let him kill me or if I gave up there, on that kitchen floor, he would steal all that remained of my life too. I would never see Matt again, never get to tell him he was right and how sorry I was. No, I thought, I refuse to give up! Suddenly, in that desperate moment I found a little of myself again, for the first time in years. It was time to get myself as far from the man who had all but destroyed me, as quickly as I could. I had to because suddenly I realised Matt had been right. One day Phil would kill me if I didn’t.

  I pulled myself up to a sitting position and then fought to breathe through the agony the small movement had caused in every inch of my body. Ok, good, I’m sitting, now just to stand and get up the stairs, no problem!

  It took me twenty agonising minutes and several fits of sobs to get upstairs and into the shower. My entire body was burning and screaming out in pain, and I was covered in my own blood. I couldn’t leave the house looking like that, so I made myself remain standing in the shower cubicle and allowed the water to run over me. I knew if I sat down I would never get up again, I had to keep moving. I managed to stand there for a few moments and rub the blood from the huge gash on my forehead, from my face and
my hands and arms. Everything else could be covered with clothes for now. I turned off the water and moved into the bathroom. I didn’t dare look in the mirror, I knew I had at least one swollen eye and the cut on my head was bad, so I left the mirror steamed and tied my hair back quickly. I grabbed the bare essentials from the cabinet and hurried through to my room where I packed a small rucksack with two changes of clothes, the few things I had grabbed from the bathroom and every photo I had of my parents and Matt and I, which weren’t many. No way was I ever coming back, I needed to take everything that was precious to me. I pulled on a pair of jeans and a red hoodie, the hoodie I had been wearing when I left Matt’s hotel room the last time I saw him. It made me feel he was with me in some way and I needed that, more than anything. I ripped off my wedding and engagement rings and threw them across the room angrily.

  “Fuck you Phil!” I screamed and then I turned and left, not once looking back. His hold over me was gone and all I could feel was rage.

  I found my bank card, for a savings account I secretly held, which I had hidden under a drawer in the kitchen, and I also broke into Phil’s desk where I knew he had hidden my passport years ago, on the way out of that house of torture. I finally collapsed into my car about an hour after Phil had left the house. Time was ticking, he’d be back with his apologies soon and I had to be gone by then.

  Spurred on by that fear I started my car and raced for the airport, praying there would be a flight to somewhere near Chicago leaving very soon. The first place Phil would look for me after discovering my passport gone, would be the airport so I couldn’t stick around there for too long!

  As I walked into the airport everyone who passed stared at me and I quickly realised I must have been in quite a state. I lowered my head and raced over to the British Airways ticket sales desk.

  “Good Evening. Can I help?” A friendly assistant asked. I slowly lifted my head and her eyes met mine. She was immaculately made up, with not a hair out of place and her makeup applied with obvious precision.

  “Oh” She gasped when she looked at me. “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine” I snapped.

  “Are you sure? Your head….it’s bleeding.” She pointed out. I reached up and touched the cut on my head. She was right, it was bleeding a little. She handed me a few tissues and I held them to the cut.

  “I’m fine” I said firmly again. “I need to get to Chicago or as close as possible……. Or just America…. anywhere in America.” I stuttered nervously. I was so terrified Phil would walk up behind me any minute. I just had to get away from there.

  “Perhaps you should get some medical attention before you travel madam? I could….”

  “No!” I cut her off quickly. “I really am ok. I just need to be on whichever flight departs next to the US. Can you help me or not?” I looked pleadingly into her eyes, which were studying me with concern. “Please, I just need to get out of here now!”

  “O-Ok.” She stuttered as she snapped out of her stare and looked down at her computer. “There’s actually a flight to O’Hare leaving in forty minutes and I have seats available on it. It’ll be a rush, but I can get you on it?” She said with a smile.

  “Thank you.” I whispered as my eyes filled with tears. I was getting out of there and going to Matt. Thank God! I handed her my passport and savings account card, the account in which Matt had insisted. before I got married, that I keep my inheritance from my parents hidden from Phil. Thank God, on that occasion at least, I had listened to him. She hurriedly booked me onto the flight and then ran with me as we raced through check in and security as fast as my beaten body would move. Thankfully, I had no luggage other than my rucksack, so things moved quickly.

  “Here you go, this is you.” She announced as we approached the gate which was in the midst of boarding.

  “Thank you, so much. You’ll never know what you’ve done for me today.” I said emotionally.

  “Just make sure you see a doctor when you land, ok?”

  “I will.” I agreed. “Thanks again.”

  “You’re very welcome. Take care of yourself dear, and good luck!” She said with a smile. We shared a moment which made me think she understood very well what she had helped me to escape and then she turned and left me queueing at the gate to board my plane to freedom.

  ***

  The flight was an awfully long eight hours. Thankfully, my saviour had booked me a seat on an empty row, so I didn’t have to deal with anyone beside me the entire way. I tried to sleep a little, but I was too anxious and in too much pain to get a wink, especially down my sides and my wrist, which I was fairly sure was broken. Instead I sat, thinking of the mess I had made and praying Matt would forgive me and help me when I needed him most.

  Finally we landed in a very snowy Chicago. I hurried through passport control, to the currency bureau to change the money I had withdrawn before leaving England into dollars and then raced out of the airport as quickly as I could, just desperate to feel Matt’s arms around me. I knew when I felt that the terrible feeling that I had made a mistake would fade.

  I jumped into a taxi and gave the driver Matt’s address, then sat back and tried desperately to catch my breath again. I was in more pain than I had ever experienced, so much pain it was taking my breath away. My face was swollen and felt tight and I could barely see out of my right eye. My wrist was black and blue up to my elbow, very badly swollen and I couldn’t move it from where I cradled it to my chest. My ribs and back throbbed in agony beyond anything I could ever have imagined, and I was bruised and bloodied everywhere.

  “It’s that building over there.” The taxi driver declared as we stopped in the middle of a bustling city street, in front of a huge modern apartment building. The street was crowded, despite the fact it was early morning and the snow was falling heavily. It was hugely different to what I was used to, and I liked it. I needed a fresh start and I really thought maybe I could have one here. I handed the taxi driver his fare and thanked him and then shakily got out of the car. I just prayed Matt was home because I’d come a long way to feel him hold me and I needed him desperately.

  MATT

  God, I was hungover! Rob, Jack and I had been to a few bars the previous night and I had drunk way too much, we all had. It wasn’t often we did the lads night out thing, we were all too wrapped up in our jobs, but it had been a rare time when we were all on days off the next day and we decided to kick loose for the night. Rob and Jack were my closest mates. I’d met Jack through work, a fellow surgeon and I met Rob through him. Jack lived right next door to me and had actually helped me to get my apartment when I first moved to the city just over nine years ago. They had been a major support to me since I made the big move from a sleepy village in Yorkshire and I considered them family.

  As I drowned my throbbing head under my power shower I was beginning to regret the whole evening the previous day. I was getting too old to be hungover, I couldn’t handle it!

  I dragged myself out of the shower eventually and dressed in jeans and a pressed white shirt, ready to meet Jack later for some post-hangover lunch. I styled my hair and then went for the one thing I truly needed, caffeine! I set the coffee maker going and sat down at my breakfast bar to look through that day’s work emails. My laptop was just powering up when I heard a faint knock at my door.

  Jesus, Jack must be more hungover than me, I thought with a chuckle, as I moved to the door. I threw it open, ready to shout in his face and hurt his tender head but stopped dead when it wasn’t him I found there.

  “Lucy?” I couldn’t seem to make myself breathe as I took in the state of my baby sister. She was nothing more than skin and bone and her face was badly beaten and swollen. She had a huge gash running from just below her hair line, right down to her eyebrow. She was trembling and crying, leaning against the wall for dear life and covered in streaks of her own blood.

  “Matt,” She whimpered weakly through her tears. I stood, frozen, just staring at her, wanting to grab her, bu
t too shocked to move. What had happened? How the hell had she gotten here? “I’m so…..so sorry!” She sobbed and those desperate words made me move. I stepped forward, toward her and reached out my arms. As though she knew she was finally safe, knew that I would never let her fall, she just blacked out and crumpled into my arms. I grabbed her tiny frail, trembling body and gathered her into my arms. She was unconscious and trembling like a pneumatic drill.

  I hurriedly carried her inside and lay her on the sofa as gently as I could. I needed to do something; I knew I did. I was a doctor for Christ’s sake! This was my job, but instead I stood, and I stared at her, barely able to breathe. I was so consumed by anger that Phil had done this to her and panic that she would not survive it.

  I noticed a decline in her breathing, and I knew she was struggling. She was as pale as anyone I had ever seen, and I knew she was probably bleeding internally. Damn it! Do something you idiot! I bent down beside her and took her hand to check her pulse, but her wrist was badly fractured and completely black and swollen. I wanted to throw up, all medical background gone. This was my sweet, kind, baby sister and she had been obliterated. I couldn’t do it! I couldn’t be her doctor; I was too much her loving brother.

  Instead I leapt to my feet and ran from the apartment and next door to Jack’s. I hammered on the door loud enough to wake the entire block. I didn’t want to leave her, but I needed help. Jack was at the door in seconds, obviously sensing my urgency.

  “Matt? What the…..?” I didn’t give him chance to say more.

  “I need your help……..Lucy, she’s……….she’s bad Jack, come on!” I was rambling and making no sense, I knew it, but I couldn’t get it together. I ran then, back to my apartment, back to her. I heard Jack running behind me and I knew he would help her.

  “Matt, what the hell has happened?” Jack gasped as he ran in behind me and stopped dead a few feet from the sofa.