Rescued I

by M. K. Elliott

  Serenity stopped at the side of the street and waited for the lights to change. People gathered either side of her, closing in, and she suddenly felt faint. Despite the cool evening, her palms began to sweat and her cheeks flushed. She stared in panic at the people either side of her, professional people in their suits who had their lives sorted. Her eyes were wide, and her heart thumped painfully in her chest. She just wanted to get away. She couldn’t stand it, all these people pressing in either side of her, talking loudly on mobile phones she could not see. Some part of her half-believed that they were talking about her, laughing about her to the faceless people on the other end of the line. She could feel their eyes upon her, how they judged her, how they wondered how such a pathetic creature could even be out here on her own, and she realised she wasn’t going to wait for the lights to change. She stepped out into the road, jolting her painful ribs so they made her gasp for breath.

  Someone blasted their horn at her, but she barely even noticed. She half-stumbled, half- ran across the road. People looked at her with curiosity and concern in their eyes, one woman even put out her hand as Serenity passed her and asked if she was okay, but Serenity shrugged the kindly woman off and ran.

  Blindly she pushed past people, knocking shoulders and elbows as she went. She could hear shouts of protest, but they were muffled by the blood that was rushing through her ears.

  “Hey, crazy lady!” one man shouted at her as she stamped on his foot in her effort to get past. The panic that had exploded inside of her just made her want to get out of there, no matter what. Her heart was pounding and there was a pressure inside her head, a horrible pressure that made her think something terrible was going to happen unless she got away.

  She rounded the corner. The side street was empty and was only lit by the dim lights from the restaurants that backed onto it. Large commercial bins were pushed up against the walls and Serenity collapsed between two of them, seeking shelter between their tall plastic sides. She bent over, ignoring the pain in her ribs, resting her hands on her thighs, her head hung down, gasping for breath. Her lower back screamed out in agony – Jackson always knew where to hit her to make it hurt the worst and always in places that no one saw – in her kidneys, the ribs just under her breasts, the bottom of her spine.

  Just a panic attack, she told herself, as the feeling that she was going to die faded away with the adrenaline. Nothing to worry about, just a panic attack, you’ve had them before.

  Slowly her breathing returned to normal and her heart lost its trippy beat. She was about to straighten up when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

  She shrieked out loud and leapt away, jarring her poor ribs once again.

  “I’m sorry,” a man’s voice said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

  “By scaring me half to death!” Quickly the fear had been replaced by anger and she looked up, her eyes blazing.

  In front of her was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He was easily six foot tall with dark wavy hair that he wore a few inches too long so that it curled around his broad throat and fell across his forehead. He had the square jaw of a catalogue model and a wide, generous mouth, but it was his eyes that really blew her away. She had to do a double take, and she felt something deep inside her heart (or was it her brain) do a little jolt, like a flick back in time. Despite the darkness she could see they were the brightest green she had ever seen.

  Green? Not yellow? Hadn’t they really been yellow?

  She pushed the strange thought away.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again, and his voice was like chocolate melting down her throat. She thought she could hear an accent, something European. “You seemed to be in distress. I wanted to know if there was anything I could do to help.”

  “No. I’m fine, please. Just leave me alone.”

  The faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and he stepped forward and held out his hand.

  He fixed her with those amazing eyes. “At least let me help you to your feet.”

  She looked at his hand in mistrust, but couldn’t help glancing at the rest of him. He was well-dressed in a smart woollen overcoat and his shoes looked expensive. He gave the impression of someone who was important, of someone who knew his place in the world.

  He was everything Serenity wanted to be.

  She glanced again. His hand was large, and strong and inviting, and he certainly didn’t look like a lunatic.

  Could this man do much worse than what she had waiting for her at home?

  The anger in her melted and she found herself incapable of resisting. Instead she wanted to take his hand, wanted to touch that skin that looked so soft and strangely pale, and she reached out and slipped her small palm into his.

  She gave a small gasp and would have pulled away if it wasn’t for the strength of his hand closing around her own.

  Cold. He was so cold.

  It wasn’t just the cold that made her gasp. His touch seemed to fire every synapse in her body and she felt her skin prickle with goose flesh, her heart hitch in her chest. Again there was that strange jolt in her brain, like static discharge realigning her nerve cells. It felt as though someone had reached in and moved something around, like something had happened that someone wanted her to forget. Black blobs suddenly clouded her vision and she felt her legs fold beneath her and the world swim away.

  His arms were beneath her before she could fall, his easy strength holding her, and she felt herself come back to the surface.

  “Sorry,” she managed, embarrassed. “I don’t know...”

  She tailed off, not sure what she was going to say.

  “What were you running from?” he asked her, gently.

  She looked up at him. His eyes were full of gentle understanding; he was the first person in a long time who had shown her any kind of compassion.

  “Myself,” she whispered. “I was running from myself.”

  He smiled that half-smile again. “You didn’t get very far.”

  “No. I never do.”

  She suddenly realised she was still in his arms, that her breasts were pressed up against his broad chest, that his face was only inches from her own. He seemed aware of their close proximity at exactly the same moment and he let go and stepped away, both of them flustered.

  She stared down at the floor, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. What had she felt go through her? It was like a charge, an electrical charge, or like he had somehow reached inside her and touched the essence of who she was. That was crazy; she must be losing the plot. The stress was all getting too much for her.

  “I...I have to go,” she managed, pushing past him, not trusting herself to look at him again. For a moment she could almost sense him about to reach out to her again, but he did not and she kept walking. It was only when she reached the main street with its lights and bustle of people that she dared to look back.

  He was gone.

  A strange ache of both disappointment and relief filled her heart and she chewed at her lower lip, worrying a piece of dried skin. She found herself trying to commit his face to memory, to bury deep inside of her how she felt when he had taken her hand. As stupid as it seemed, it felt like her moment, something that she had experienced just for herself, and she would bury it deep inside of her and dig it out like an old forgotten favourite teddy or blanket when things got really bad.

  The thought made her want to cry, but she pressed her lips together and fought the tears. She wouldn’t let herself cry. Not anymore. She wouldn’t let herself cry.

  It was getting late and she knew that Jackson would already be wondering where she was. Hoping to do damage control, she fished around in her handbag and found her cell phone. She only had three numbers programmed in; Home, work, and Jackson’s cell phone. She hit home and put the phone to her ear.

  It only rang twice before her husband picked up.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, honey,” she said, hoping her
voice wasn’t shaking too much. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to be a bit late home. The traffic is terrible and I wasn’t able to get on the last bus, it was full of Japanese tourists.”

  He was silent on the other end as he weighed up what she had said. She held her breath in anticipation.

  “How long are you going to be?”

  She could hear the measure in his voice, as though every ten minutes she was late was going to buy her another punch.

  “Half an hour,” she said, trying to make her voice sound light. “Quick as I can.”

  Air whistled down the phone and she knew he was huffing air out through his nose. He always did it when he was pissed, like a bull shown a red rag.

  “Fine, but hurry up. I’m getting hungry,” and he hung up.

  Serenity hurried down the road towards her bus stop, praying it wouldn’t take long to arrive. To her relief she saw the big blue bus trundling down the road towards her and she broke into a gentle trot, ignoring her protesting ribs, not wanting to risk missing this one. She made it in plenty of time and joined the queue of people getting on. There was no hint of the panic attack she had suffered earlier at this same close proximity of a crowd. Strangely she felt stronger within herself, as if the nugget (of hope?) she had stored within herself was feeding her.

  She flashed her travel card at the driver who barely bothered to look. All the seats were taken so she grabbed hold of one of the standing poles.

  With her free hand she fingered the thin silver necklace that lay around her throat, the letter ‘S’ hanging from the chain. It had been one of the only presents she could remember her mother ever giving her and she rubbed at it like a good luck charm whenever she was nervous, which was often.

  Just as the bus pulled away she caught something out of the corner of her eye and she swung her head round and peered through the bus window. It was as though her eyes sought him out through the crowds, like some part of her deep down knew exactly where to look, exactly where to find him. For there, on the other side of the street and standing in the crevasse of a doorway, was the man who had tried to help her.

  He was watching her.

  Chapter Two

  Serenity arrived at their home over an hour late.

  Standing outside the front door, she couldn’t help but love this little apartment, despite the person it contained within it. Though it had very little garden, she spent what free time she had making sure the window boxes were kept looking pretty and the small yard was kept tidy. After Jackson’s father had died a few years ago he had left Jackson a decent sum of money (no one was more astonished than Serenity, who just assumed the man would have drunk any savings away) and so they had been able to buy their little two bed duplex in a not so bad area of Glendale, a fairly decent district of LA.

  She put the key into the lock and, as though she was a teenager sneaking home from a late night party, turned it as quietly as she could. The door opened with a click. The house was quiet and that was a bad sign. When Jackson was relaxed he put his feet up in front of the television. With the television not on, she knew she would find him sitting at the kitchen table, his forearms resting on the table in front of him, brooding.

  Serenity hung her bag and coat on the hooks behind the front door. She took a deep breath and tried to ignore her heart which was thumping so hard it felt like it was going to burst out of her chest.

  I can’t do it, she thought. I can’t tell him I got fired. He will kill me.

  She walked into the kitchen and saw Jackson exactly as she had pictured him, sitting with his back to her. He was a tall, even lanky man, with longish, light brown hair that he wore parted down the middle so that it fell either side of his face. He wore his rimless, rectangle glasses most of the time, even though he really only needed them to read or for computer work. Serenity knew Jackson wore them all the time because he liked to look intelligent and he thought that the addition of the glasses did that for him. To anyone else he looked like a harmless, even slightly geeky guy. He certainly didn’t look like a wife beater.

  “Hi honey,” she said, trying to make her voice as bright as possible. “Sorry I’m late.” She bent down and kissed his cheek. “How was your day? How did the writing go?”

  She knew she was being overly cheerful, as though she could compensate for the dark mood that radiated from her husband.

  “It was fine,” he said dismissively. “What’s for dinner?”

  She had barely thought about it, but suddenly this question was huge. If she gave the wrong answer it could easily be the final spark to his fire, the thing that set off his temper.

  She gave a smile and it felt false on her face. “I thought I’d do us some old fashioned bacon-burgers and fries, maybe with extra cheese?”

  She saw his shoulders relax and it was all she could do to stop herself breathing a sigh of relief.

  “As long as you miss out the cheese and fries for yourself.” He reached out and gave her a slap on the backside, a slap that was more than playful and left her skin stinging. “You know how easily you pile on those extra pounds.”

  It was at that moment that she knew she wasn’t going to tell him about her getting fired.

  She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a cold bottle of beer. Rummaging in the utensil drawer she found the bottle opener and cracked the lid off of the bottle and handed it to Jackson. He took it with the faintest hint of a smile.

  “Why don’t you go into the living room and make yourself comfortable,” she said. “Let me do my thing in here.”

  She could see he was still reluctant to leave her, he still hadn’t made up his mind about whether to punish her for being late, but she knew she was heading in the right direction and she pressed on.

  “Go on, hon. You look shattered. You’ve obviously been working so hard today, I know how writing takes it out of you.”

  “I am tired,” he admitted. “The words just didn’t seem to want to come today.”

  “How much did you get done? Do you have any idea when you’ll be finished?”

  Slowly he looked up at her, his face tilted to one side, his eyes narrowed. “Are you going to give me a deadline, Serenity?”

  “No,” she said, hurriedly. “I just know how frustrated you feel when you ...”

  He was on his feet in an instant, his chair falling to the floor with a crash. He was in her face, his thick fingers around her throat, tightening, squeezing.

  “Don’t you fucking tell me what I feel!”

  He shoved her backwards by her throat and she tripped and fell, crashing into their large, silver trashcan. Rubbish spilled out on the floor and the trashcan hit the tiled floor with a clang that reverberated around her ears. Pain shot up through her ribs, red hot spears of agony, and she instinctively curled up into the foetal position, her arms protecting her head.

  “Look what you’ve done,” he spat at her and he kicked a foot at the now spilled contents of the can. “I hope you’re going to clean up this mess.”

  Jackson snatched the beer bottle of off the counter and walked out of the room. Within seconds she heard the sound of the television being switched on and she knew that the rage that had been building up inside of him had been released. It hadn’t mattered what she had said; he had been itching for a fight. When he was in that sort of mood even if she had stayed utterly silent he still would have found some reason to hit her.

  Despite the pain, part of her was relieved. Maybe now he wouldn’t see it in her face? Maybe now he wouldn’t see the secret she was keeping from him?

  Serenity rolled onto her side, her cheek pressed against the cold tiles. She stayed there for a moment, waiting for the fresh wave of pain to subside. Slowly the initial stabbing pain dulled to a familiar dull ache. She squeezed her eyes shut and prepared herself for the fresh wave of pain she knew would come as soon as she tried to move again.

  I will leave him, she promised herself for the millionth time. I don’t deserve this.

  Fr
om out of nowhere the stranger’s face rose in her mind and she remembered how she felt when he had touched her. That was what she wanted. She wanted someone who stirred such intense feelings inside her it made her gasp for breath and not just because he was causing her pain. She cradled the hand he had touched to her body and closed her eyes, recalling every sensation. Something welled up deep inside of her, a wave rolling through her body, wiping out her pain. Would she ever see him again?

  She felt a sudden panic at the idea that she might forget his face or how he had made her feel. Suddenly, remembering this man seemed even more important than dealing with the abusive husband she was too scared to walk away from.

  “Find me again,” she whispered to the empty kitchen. Then she realised she had spoken aloud and she felt her cheeks flush, worried that Jackson may have heard her above the television and question her. It was absurd to think he had even given her a second thought, never mind that he would come looking for her. Feeling stupid she carefully pushed herself to sitting and began to gather rubbish – empty cans, an old cereal packet, a pizza box – towards her. Everything was covered in tomato sauce, and bits of pasta from last night’s meal clung to the floor. Sauce stuck to her fingers and she wiped them on the seat of her pants in disgust. Like an old woman she climbed to her feet, using the wall beside her to help her up. She righted the big metal can and proceeded to refill it.

  “I hope that’s my dinner you’re crashing about making,” Jackson shouted in from the living room.

  “It’s coming,” she managed weakly, but the coil of anger that had stirred within her earlier raised its head again and lashed its tail. Her body might be weak, but that didn’t mean that who she was inside had to be as well.

  Things were going to change.

  Serenity had already been curled up in bed for an hour when she heard Jackson’s heavy footsteps on the stairs. Her whole body tensed, but she tried to force her muscles to relax and made her breath steady and even, hoping that Jackson would think she was already asleep.