by Evie Rose
It’s strange to be having these feelings about a guy again after being mistreated for so long. I’m so conflicted – Luke seems like a good guy. Of course I thought Joseph was one too. Maybe I’m delusional from being secluded in my depressed little world for so long.
While I dwell in possibilities, I miss the raised piece of pavement in front of me and trip over it, sprawling out in humiliation. I’m such an imbecile. As if Luke would want a disaster like me, not if he knew all the baggage I come with. I stay motionless, completely empty and incapable of any further emotion. I don’t have the energy to bear the constant cluster-fuck of my life anymore. I’m done. The only reason I push on is because I don’t have a choice.
As much as I would like to disappear right now, it’s not happening. Strong arms pull me into a sitting position. He doesn’t say a word, he must sense my dignity is bruised and gives me a moment.
He brushes my hair to the side and the lightest of touches makes my eyes roll to the back of my head. When I lean into him I feel as though everything is going to be okay. If only I could stay here forever, safe in his arms. I’m jerked out of my fantasy as his fingers trail down my neck. “You didn’t answer my question the other night. Who did this to you?”
My eyes shoot open to witness him staring at me. The features on his face are a mixture of anger and concern. His gaze is unmoving and his jaw is locked into place. My heart stops dead in my chest at the possibility of him finding out what my life is like. My automatic reaction to hide, to lie about it, comes tumbling out of my mouth, “It’s nothing.”
“Bullshit.” He pauses, taking a deep breath and struggling to contain his reaction. “It’s fingerprints, Roxi.”
Unable to look him in the eye, I reply, “I told you, I got mugged.”
“Right... And I’m sure that asshole that picked you up the other day had nothing to do with it?”
The way he looks at me, as though he can see past my false exterior is too much. I try to fight back the tears, but I’m so embarrassed they start to fall down my cheeks anyway. I hate looking so weak in front of him. I don’t like being vulnerable in front of any one, but especially him. He has the ability to break me wide open and the power to discover all my secrets. And that would only send him running. I don’t want to lose him yet, I only just found him.
For some reason it’s easier to be myself around someone who doesn’t know any other aspect of my life. Without even knowing it, he is helping me rediscover who I am, aiding me to become stronger. I need someone like him in my life, on my side.
“I’m sorry. Please don’t cry sweetheart.” He engulfs me in his arms and his warm breath hits my skin. I turn my head, searching his face for answers as to why he isn’t running a million miles in the opposite direction of my crying fit. His eyes crinkle around the edges with concern. I find myself studying the stubble along his jawline as he strokes his hand through my hair, soothing me. His lips draw me in, mesmerising me, tempting me. My breathing slows, and I lean in, entranced.
“Roxi,” he whispers, just millimetres from my mouth, bringing me back to my senses.
My breathing hitches and I bury my chin back against his shoulder, cringing that I almost kissed him, disheartened that I had to stop.
“It’s okay,” he pacifies, his voice wrapping around me, calming me.
Despite being a hot mess – feeling distraught yet content, in pain yet in total bliss – I still feel the tingles the air from his mouth causes down my back. They shoot through my body and make me euphoric.
At the same time, my wedding ring feels cold and heavy on my finger. It’s a constant reminder that my body belongs to an asshole, but never my soul. My soul is reaching out to Luke, trying to make a connection.
He holds me close until I gain composure and I hesitantly pull away.
“There are people you can talk to, you know, people who can help. You don’t deserve that kind of treatment, Roxi.” The instinct to flee briefly overcomes me, until he reaches out, his hand gliding down my arm and grounding me.
“I’m sure he didn’t mean to hurt me. He never used to be like this.” My voice is low as I stare down at the pavement, unable to meet his gaze. It’s more than I’ve told anyone before. A mild panic starts to set in, and my chest grows tight, compelling me to back track. “It’s not that bad.” Deception has weaved a path so intricate through my mind, that it’s almost natural to me now. I’m not in the habit of sharing with anyone. Nobody has ever come so close to discovering my secrets. All they see is the lie.
From the corner of my eye I see him worrying his bottom lip, debating what to say. I’m relieved when he decides not to push me and lightly squeezes my arm, offering comfort. “At least let me give you my number, in case you ever need someone to talk to.” Before I can decline he is already reaching for the iPhone in my armband. I just want to get away as quickly as possible, before he can ask any more questions, so I don’t stop him.
A curse escapes under his breath, and I know what he sees – a picture of Ricky. I know what he’s thinking – there is a kid involved in this situation. He already knew that I’m a mum, but seeing Ricky’s sweet little face makes it more real. I will him to hurry up and programme in his contact details.
After his information is added he places it back in the band. “Call me anytime, day or night.” I want to ask why he cares, but that would only be implying that there is something to care about, so I nod, and jog away. My anxiety continues to increase the whole way home, as I fret I said too much.
Chapter Ten
“Always trust your gut feeling, and never second guess. Your gut feeling is always right.” - Ritu Ghatourey
Luke
I know I shouldn’t do it, but I can’t help myself, I’m following her home. She’s so distracted she doesn’t even realise. The purple welts on her neck are making me nauseous. I need more information about her so I can dig, and pull her out of this horrendous lifestyle, a lifestyle scarier than a burning building full of chemicals.
The photo of the little boy as the screensaver on her phone, caused my blood to run cold. I knew she was a mum, but when I saw that picture, I saw myself. What I used to be. Confused, scared, and broken. In that split second, I envisioned what my life would have been like if someone was there to save us, my mum, my brother and me. I knew I had to do something to help. I can’t stand idly by.
I could tell I was making her nervous enough, so for then I kept my mouth shut. I’m well aware she has a tendency to flee in an uncomfortable situation, I’ve witnessed it first-hand. The last thing I want to do is frighten her away. I don’t want her to think I’m judging her. I won’t condemn the innocent; it isn’t going to help matters. I’ve walked a mile in her shoes. I know what it’s like. A lot of people think it’s simple, if you are being treated badly you can just leave. It’s not always that black and white, though.
When she gets back to her house, I discover it’s a freaking mansion. Immaculate gardens lead up to a modern Queenslander. I never would have guessed that someone who lives in a place this perfect could have such a fucked up life, even though I know it happens. I’m proof of that fact. I memorize the address for later and take off before she can spot me anywhere near her house.
On the jog back home, I mull over all the ways I could help to save her from whatever she is dealing with. Upon entering the house I find scattered items of a woman’s clothing draped over the couch, the floor, the kitchen bench – I take note to disinfect that thoroughly when I wake up – but the place is blissfully quiet.
A flickering light catches my attention from the kitchen table, and I glance over to see a phone flashing. A picture of a couple embracing fills the screen, and the name Kyle. Half that couple is Sarah. It looks as though she isn’t as interested in Jake as he is in her. I’m not too worried though, he’s not a one woman kind of guy. His infatuation with her won’t last. I’m certain, that’s one of the reasons we’re housemates. If I’m never going to have a family, I need to house sha
re with someone who’s going to stick around a while. Even if he’s serious about her, it might be an ex and she just hasn’t changed the picture yet, or maybe it’s her brother. It’s really none of my business and I don’t want to cause any shit so I won’t ask. I’ve got bigger problems to worry about anyway.
I fall asleep with turmoil in my head and for once I have a nightmare different than the usual one. Who would’ve thought it could get worse?
Chapter Eleven
“The wings of hope carry us, soaring high above the driving winds of life.” - Ana Jacob
Roxi
By the time I get home my anxiety has skyrocketed. I want to cry again so damn bad. There’s a lump in my throat and it won’t go away. I feel empty, but I know there must be something inside because my heart aches.
Disturbing thoughts swirl in my head, all Joseph’s spiteful words are stabbing like a knife in to my nerves, twisting, sending me crazy. The mental abuse is just as bad as the physical, sometimes worse. At least when he causes me physical harm though, I can concentrate on the pain instead of all the horrible things he says. Pain is my friend when it has the ability of making everything else fall away.
I need to do something to force my mind away from the frenzy of thoughts that won’t shut up, if I don’t, I think I could be at serious risk of going insane.
“Get a grip, you worthless piece of crap.” I taunt myself as I rock back and forth. My arms are wrapped around my knees, as I try to hold it together. I’m on the brink of losing my mind.
I push myself up off the floor and go into the bathroom. My hands shake as I pick up the razor blade. I’m terrified of the sting I know this will cause, so I focus on the relief I know it will bring.
As I scrape the blade across my arm and watch the red line appear, I tell myself I’m not a nut job. I’m by no means suicidal. I wouldn’t take it any further than this. I mean, it would be nice not to exist, but I don’t have the courage to hurt myself that badly. Besides, Ricky needs me.
A burning sensation sears across my now butchered skin. I smile as I watch the blood trail down the sink and into the drain, taking some of my troubled thoughts with it.
*****
It’s 1:55 p.m., exactly one hour until I have to leave to get Ricky. After my melt down earlier, I’ve been procrastinating all day. Frightened to make the call, but I know I need to. Countless times now I have dialled the number, only to hang up on the first ring.
I even tried to take the coward’s way out and send an anonymous message to their website. The only reply I got was that they are always there to help and to give them a call on the provided number.
Wiping my sweaty palms over my shorts, I pick up my iPhone once again. My heart races, as I stare at the screen and go over what I’m going to say in my head. I chew on my nails and stress over if they will be able to track me if I call on my mobile. Maybe they’ll be so horrified by my story they’ll come and force Ricky and me to leave before I’m ready. Or worse, they’ll come and take Ricky away from me.
The phone slips from my hands as I throw myself backwards on the bed and cry out in frustration. I lay still, staring at the ceiling. I want to pace. I need to vomit. My mind is being pulled in a million different directions as I start to freak out. Half a pack of Valium sits in the medicine cupboard with my name on it and I itch to get my hands on it. But I do none of those things. I stay immobile, trying to calm myself down and focus on what’s required of me.
It would be so much easier to just run away and never look back. But I force myself to think what’s best for Ricky. I can’t forever be watching our backs. This needs to be done the right way and I have no idea how to do it. I have to make this call.
I take a deep breath and press in the numbers. I transfer to speaker phone, and then sit on my hands so that I’m not tempted to hang up.
“Family help hotline. My name is Kylie, how can I help?” My throat tightens and I’m struggling to breathe let alone getting the words out. I push my hands even further under my bottom so I’m not tempted to get my finger on the end button. The silence grows between us.
“It’s okay. Take your time, whenever you are ready. I’m not going anywhere I’m here to help. I won’t judge you, so please don’t be afraid.” When she doesn’t rush me to speak I relax. She seems to understand how difficult this is for me and that I’m trying to gather my courage before I speak up.
I close my eyes to make it easier. To make it seem less real. “I need to get my son and I away from my husband and I don’t know how.” The words sound as though they’re coming from somebody else. Like something this scandalous couldn’t possibly be a part of my life. Once they are out, I can’t seem to stop the torrent of shameful information from pouring out of my mouth.
All the gory details I was sure would horrify her, aren’t even judged. She only speaks to give me factual information that will help to get me out of my situation.
“I’m worried that since there’s no physical evidence of abuse on my son, that my husband will still be entitled to custody rights with him when I leave. I can’t prove anything when it comes to how my son’s treated. I’m scared of what’ll happen when I’m not there to protect him.” I’m careful to leave out all our names. At this stage I’m only gathering information and trying to process it. I don’t want to be forced into anything.
“Okay, you mentioned bruises on your neck and waist. I want you to take photos of them. Can you do that for me?” I still can’t believe I was able to relay that story. Telling it as though it were someone else made it easier, though. “It’s important to document as much information as possible.”
If Joseph found photos of the marks on my neck on my phone he would be immediately suspicious. “I don’t know if keeping things like that at the house is a very good idea.”
“Do you have a friend or someone you can trust who can hold onto them for you?” Rachel definitely would, but she’s going to flip when she realises just how much I’ve been hiding from her.
Kylie goes on to explain that I can file for a domestic violence protection order that’ll instantly take effect. It would prevent Joseph from hurting Ricky or me while the proper authorities investigate. This is why as much documentation as possible is crucial, to help support my case.
There are shelters we can stay at, where Kylie insists that Joseph won’t be able to find us. I’m sceptical though. I imagine a room full of rundown bunks and other strange women, and it breaks my heart that I’d have to take Ricky there, but I have no other option. I feel the slightest bit better when Kylie informs me they’re safe houses, clean and homely and nothing like I’ve seen in the movies.
By the time I hang up, I feel, for the first time ever, like none of this is my fault. No matter what I did to provoke him, nothing makes violence okay. He can’t justify his actions. There’s no excuse in the world for abuse.
So now I have a way out. Simple, clean cut, and easy - on paper that is. Nothing is that straightforward in reality, and I’m terrified. Ricky’s and my life are about to be turned upside down. But at least now I know there are people out there to help give me the courage. No matter how alone I feel I don’t have to do this by myself.
Chapter Twelve
“We are still masters of our fate. We are still captains of our souls.” - Winston Churchill
Luke
I go into work grumpy and tired, and grumble in annoyance each time the alarm goes off. Most of the fires are small, until at about 2:00 a.m., when a call comes in for a huge factory blaze.
The giant orange flames light up the sky, looking kind of beautiful, when I know no one is inside this dangerous hazard. Grey smoke coils upwards, wrapping around the stars and looking like clouds in the night. Whatever is burning, crackles and explodes, as it gets eaten away by the extreme heat.
“What is wrong with you, Luke? Get your head in the game!” I’m shaken out of my appraisal of the sight in front of me by Jake, lucky it wasn’t the chief who caught me zoning out, bef
ore dealing with this callout or he’d consider me a risk and not let me out of the truck. I’m not sitting in here while the guys with families are out there fighting. I haul ass and join my crew.
*****
I’m surprised when I see Roxi running again the next morning. I expected her to avoid me after what I discovered. Although, the long sleeve shirt and sweatpants she wears compared to her usual attire has me suspicious. What is she trying to cover?
“Did you forget its summer out?” I make a joke, attempting to get a response off her without scaring her away. If I don’t tread lightly I may never see her again, then I would never get my chance to help her obtain a better life, a safer life.
I lightly graze my fingertips over the material wishing I was touching her skin instead of the cotton. She sucks in a sharp breath at my touch and I look at her questioningly.
What did that bastard do to her?
She tries to pull her arm away from me, but I wrap my hands around hers, stopping her. As I push up the sweatshirt at her wrist, I’m horrified by what I see. Cuts are crisscrossed all over her delicate skin, angry red lines against the palest of white.
Fuck. Self-harm, I’d recognize the signs in anyone. I personally identify with it. My head pounds, as that familiar feeling comes back to me. The anxiety that builds, threatening to eat you alive from the inside out. The need to cause physical pain, as a distraction from your own tortured thoughts.
“Why?” I simply ask her. However, I know why. This time when she tries to pull away I don’t stop her. I subconsciously rub at my own wrist. Cutting only works in the short term and the scars never leave, on the inside or the outside.
“I....” she pauses as she thinks about what to say.
“Don't you dare tell me that was an accident, I’m not stupid. That isn’t gonna fly.” The time for skirting lightly around the issue is over. If her husband doesn’t kill her, she could very well kill herself.
