Breathe

by Amber Lacie

  Four thoughts repeat in my head as I lie down, staring up at the stark white ceiling. I never took my medicine today. In fact, I haven’t taken any pills in weeks. How did my medicine end up on the dresser? If I did take my medicine earlier in the day, but forgot, why was the water still ice cold? Why did I consciously move in with the devil? But no thought was stronger than the idea of Holden. I hold onto the perfect image of him that I have painted in my mind and fall asleep, regretting the worst decision that I have ever made.

  Chapter 7

  One year, four months, seventeen days, six hours, three minutes, and forty-five seconds is the amount of time I have been away from home. Not that I am counting. Five months, eleven days, two hours, three minutes, and eleven seconds is the amount of time that has passed since I last spoke to Rebecca. Not that I am counting. Two days, six hours, thirty-seven minutes, and fifteen seconds is the amount of time that has passed since the last time Michael hurt me. Not that I am counting. It wouldn’t make a difference if I did.

  I am sitting on the toilet with the lid down in the bathroom, trying to figure out why I am here, why I left home in the first place, and why I won’t leave. I can leave. I can physically get up and walk out at any time. It is the consequences that have me locked here in fear.

  Standing, I pull the sleeves of my sweater up, so they don’t get wet as I splash water on my face. My palms lie flat on the cold surface, as I take in the view of the person staring back at me in the mirror. It is not me. She looks like me, but she is not me. She is a reflection of the person I once was.

  Soft yellow bruises with a hint of green wrap around my shoulder, while darker gray bruises line my wrists and the inside of my thighs. I am getting better at following the daily routine, but sometimes I can’t help it if a few mistakes are made. I didn’t mean to burn the garlic bread the other night. It was an accident, which will never happen again.

  He is gone right now. I could go. I could run, but where? He would come for me and bring me back. It is not worth it. I inwardly laugh at myself…even my thoughts are cynical. Picking up the pen off of the sink, I scratch out ‘clean the bathroom’ on the list of chores that I need to get done today. The last one on my list is grocery shopping, which consists of an entirely different list. I have it marked into columns. Things Michael will eat, and things he hates. The list of things he hates changes with his moods, but it works as some sort of guide to help me make sure that everything is just right.

  Wishing myself luck, I grab my purse and head to the store. I am able to get everything I need in record time. I recheck my list twice, before pushing my cart up to a cashier. She hands me my change, eleven dollars and thirty-five cents. My blood starts to rush a little quicker, once I feel the quarter in my hand. The cashier wishes me a good day, but I barely give her a nod of my head. My mind is focused on the payphone in the corner of the parking lot. I have plenty of time to get the groceries home and put them away before Michael gets home. Surely, I have enough time for a phone call.

  My hands are shaking by the time I finish putting all the bags in the back of my truck. It takes a second for me to steel my nerves, but when my fingers hit the last button I breathe a sigh of relief. Any doubts I have are erased by the ringing sound in my ear.

  “Hello?” The voice alone brings tears to my eyes.

  “Becca?”

  “Carsten? Shut up. Is it really you?”

  Sniffling, I brush my hair out of my face. “Yeah, it’s me. God, I miss you.”

  “Then come home.”

  “I can’t. It’s not that easy. You don’t understand.”

  “Then make me understand, Carsten. Explain to me why you can’t come home. I don’t like any of this…I miss you.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. Look, I don’t have long. How is he?”

  She sighs heavily into the phone. “I’m not supposed to say. I told him we talked before. He said if you want to know anything about him, then you need to call him. I’m sorry, Cars, but I agree with him. Call him.”

  “And say what exactly? I’m sorry my crazed boyfriend smashed your face in. I have always loved you. Come save me?” I had intended to say it under my breath, but I must have been louder than I thought.

  “Cars? What are you talking about? Why do you need saving?”

  “I don’t. It was a joke…just forget it. Look, I have to go. I have been here too long. Miss you.” I hang up the phone, not giving her a chance to ask any more questions. The few steps I take to reach my truck feel heavy, as though I’m wading through molasses. I desperately want to hear his voice, but I wouldn’t know what to say. How could I explain my reasoning? I should have never left. I should have realized how much I loved him sooner.

  Wiping the few stray tears from my cheeks, I start my truck and head for home. I have wasted too much time. Everything needs to be in its place by four o’clock. It is just after one. I suddenly regret my decision to call Rebecca.

  *****

  The smells circulating in my kitchen are making my mouth water. Michael loves chicken, so I have made him a rosemary roasted chicken with garlic mashed potatoes as the side. I have arranged our plates; minus the rolls I still have in the oven. I need to make sure they are warm thoroughly without over cooking them. I hear his key in the lock. Quickly grabbing a towel, I pull them from the oven and rush two rolls towards the table, gently placing them on the plates. I am standing beside the kitchen table, as he walks in to greet me.

  “Chicken, again?” He is not happy. My blood pumps furiously in my ears.

  “Rosemary chicken. Your favorite.” I swallow, as he takes a seat at the table. Sweat forms on my neck, as he takes his first bite. “You can sit. I don’t like people hovering while I eat.” He doesn’t say he likes it, but I know he does, otherwise he wouldn’t have invited me to sit.

  Slowly pulling out my chair, I sit down. We eat our meal in silence. Once he is finished, I set my fork down and stand to clear his plate. I am not done, but I will finish eating later. His hand softly grabs my wrist, as I grab his plate from in front of him.

  “A friend of mine said that he saw you at the store this afternoon, but what he told me didn’t make any sense. Do you know what he told me?”

  “No, I’m afraid I don’t. May I take your plate?”

  With a nod of his head, I clear his plate. My hands are already starting to shake. Steady. Steady. I can’t let him see how nervous I am getting. Turning on the faucet, I begin to rinse off his plate, before gently placing it in the sink.

  Rough hands slide around my waist, pulling me against him. His breath is hot against my neck. “What I can’t understand is why he told me you were using the payphone, seeing we have a perfectly good phone right here. In fact, it’s hanging on the wall right beside me, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Fuck. My voice shakes and I know that he has noticed by the way his grip tightens around me.

  “So, you tell me why you needed a pay phone. What are you hiding?”

  “Nothing.” His left hand flies up, gripping my neck, causing me to gasp.

  “Then, why the payphone? Maybe you forgot how this one worked. Is that it?”

  I don’t even have a chance to reply, before I am being dragged across the kitchen towards the white phone hanging on the wall. I know the phone is there. It is obvious that I know how it works. The phone cord is twisted and almost reaches the floor from me stretching it across the room when I talk to Noelle. She is the only friend Michael has let me keep. “Please. No.” My pleas fall on deaf ears. They always do.

  “Tell me why you were on a pay phone, Carsten? Why the fuck do you think it’s okay to continually lie to me?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

  “Well, that’s something we must work on won’t we. Perhaps a reminder?” Gripping my hair tight in his hand, he grabs the phone off of the wall, wrapping the long cord several times around my neck before pulling it tight. “Do you remember now? Huh? Are you capable of thinking now?”

&nbs
p; I nod grasping at the cord, desperately trying to loosen it. He lets go of his hold on me, the phone cord unravels from around my neck. I fall to the floor, gasping for air, trying to fill my burning lungs. “My dad.” Lies.

  “What?”

  “My dad. I wanted to talk to my dad. I’m sorry.” More lies.

  “You know I don’t allow you to. Tell me, how was dear old dad?”

  “Drunk. He was drunk.” My shoulders begin to shake as endless tears fall from my eyes.

  “See? Now you’re upset. There’s a reason I make the rules, Carsten. It’s because I love you. Now hush. You’ll work yourself up over nothing.” His hands gently lift me from the floor, pulling my body against his. How can someone love you so much that they hate you? This must be hate. I can’t fathom doing this to anyone you love.

  I let him hold me as I cry. He may think I am crying over my dad, but I am crying because of the choices I have consciously made, which have led me here. I wanted to get out so badly. Never in my wildest dreams did I think it would be this bad. I didn’t know how hollow I could actually feel.

  The rest of the night goes smoothly. I try my best not to jump when he touches me in our bed as we lay down to sleep. At one point in my life, I enjoyed the feel of his skin against mine, now I find it revolting and wish for it to be over quickly. Every night, I silently pray to God, asking him to take me while I sleep. I know Michael couldn’t reach me there, not with God. No, there is a special place in Hell waiting for him.

  Chapter 8

  Michael left early this morning. He wanted to get a quick workout in before his first class. Thankfully, it is Thursday, which means he won’t be home until late tonight. He works part time doing clerical work for a friend of his dad’s once a week. Tomorrow night, Noelle and David will be coming over for dinner. At least, that is what the plans are. It has only been Noelle for the past few weeks. She always has a new excuse on why David can’t make it. I have my suspicions they broke up, but she doesn’t want to say anything.

  I have finished my list for the day, dinner is made and being kept warm in the oven, and now I am enjoying the little time I have to myself. I am flipping through the channels on the television, when the intercom buzzes by the door. No one ever just drops by, at least not while I am home alone. It buzzes again, but this time whoever is holding the button down doesn’t let up. Walking over to the window, I peek out behind the curtains. I can’t make out their face, but a very tall man is standing outside on the front steps of the building. Maybe Michael has something being dropped off and forgot to mention it. Curiosity gets the best of me, so I buzz them in.

  Heavy footsteps gradually climb the stairs coming closer to my door. Two steady thumps on the front door let me know the stranger has finally found me. Slowly releasing the chain on the back of the door, I pull it open. Wind swirls around me, knocking its way into my chest. My lungs inflate, causing me to gasp and step backwards as I take what feels like a breath.

  “Jesus. Baby, what has he done to you? Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you leave?” Holden’s long arms reach for me, as I launch myself towards him. My nose is buried in his neck, breathing him in. His spiced cologne fills my nostrils and everything I have tried to hide, everything I have tried to hold in over the past year, comes crashing down on me. Tidal waves of tears rush to the surface. My hands knot themselves in the back of his shirt, desperately clinging to him. “Oh, baby. Hold on. Let me save you, just hold on.” Grabbing my legs, he wraps them tighter around his waist and carries me into my apartment. No, not mine, Michael’s apartment, where I happen to live.

  “I’m. So. Sorry.” I’m barely able to get my words out between sobs. His soft fingers brush the hair from my face, as he sits on the couch. He doesn’t attempt to pry me off of him, instead he holds onto me, soothing me with his words.

  “Ssh. Baby, I have got you now. Can I see you?” Shaking my head, I try to crawl into him. The urge to get closer to him consumes me. “Hey, now. I came all this way to see my girl and she won’t let me look at her. You’re going to break my heart. Let me see my girl.”

  “And if you don’t like what you see?”

  “That’s impossible.”

  Sitting up, I slowly untangle my arms from around his neck. I try my best to run my fingers through my long hair. Suddenly, I feel nervous. What if I am not what he expected? What if I am not who I used to be? His palm softly cups my cheek. I jerk from the initial touch. He doesn’t say anything, but I know that he is not pleased with my reaction to him. His fingers trace the two blue waves on my throat from where the phone cord pinched my skin yesterday.

  Sighing, he rolls the sleeves of my shirt up, revealing the faint bruises on my wrist. He stops looking me over. I am not sure if he is afraid he will find more, or if I repulse him. Who consciously decides to stay with someone who hurts them? I used to think the same thing, but no one knows what it is like until you are there, until you are living it.

  “When does he get home?”

  “In about an hour. You’ll have to go. You can’t be here then.”

  “What? I’m not leaving you here with that deranged lunatic.”

  “I can’t get my things together that quickly. He’ll come for me. He’ll come for you. Oh, God. What if he knows you’re here?”

  “Why would he know I’m here?” Holden leans back against the couch, staring back at me as if I have lost my mind. A lock of dark brown hair falls in front of his chocolate eyes. His bronzed skin only makes his eyes seem darker. Deftly moving my fingers, I brush the hair from his face. My breath becomes heavy as I look at the man before me. His blue shirt is tight around his shoulders, but not too tight. It fits him perfectly. The stubble on his face has me questioning how far I want to take things, while my legs are still wrapped around his waist.

  “Holden.”

  “Carsten, don’t look at me like that. I don’t know where your head is, but I know your body is badly bruised. Let me take care of you.”

  “I will. I promise I will. Give me time to throw my stuff in a bag. I’ll have to find the box my mom gave me. He hid it from me and I won’t leave without it.” The alarm in the bedroom goes off, startling me. “Shit.” He’ll be home sooner than I originally thought. Oh God, if he finds Holden he’ll kill him. “Get up. Get up. You have to go. Get out now.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  “You have to.” My voice is frantic, as I quickly rush around the apartment making sure everything is in its place. “Go, please go.”

  “Fuck that. I’m not leaving. Jesus. I can’t just walk away from you.”

  “I know. God, I know.” Handing him a small notepad, I shove a pen into his stunned hand. “Write down the number where I can find you. I’ll sneak out with my bags tonight once he’s asleep. I’ll take my truck and I’ll find you. Please, Holden. Please. He will kill you. I can’t…I can’t live with that.”

  “Jesus. I don’t know what to do, Carsten. I want to take you with me, it’s what everything in me is saying to do.”

  “Holden, do you love me?”

  He stands pacing the living room, chewing on the collar of his shirt. A small smile sneaks its way onto my face. I see the boy that I have loved since I was five standing in front of me, insecure and worried, chewing on his shirt. How did I walk away from him the first time? It is killing me to walk away a second time, but I know that it is safer this way. If Michael finds us, he will most likely kill Holden and me. If I sneak out tonight while he is asleep, we will at least have a chance to run.

  Grabbing his hand softly in mine, my thumb brushes across his knuckles. “Do you love me?”

  “Of course, I love you.”

  “Then go. Give me your number and go. I want to be able to see you alive.” Not waiting for him to answer, I start pushing him towards the front door. He refuses to go without a fight, but he is not willing to be forceful with me. He stands just inside my door, tears streaming down his face, while clenching his jaw. I know none of this makes se
nse, but what other choice do I have? I can’t watch the only man I love die.

  “Call me. I feel so stupid for doing this, but I’ll give you one night. You leave tonight, or I will come back for you.” I jump back, as he slams his fist against the wall out of anger. “Fuck, Carsten. Don’t do that. God, I’d never hurt you. This is bad, so fucking bad. Everything is telling me to stay here.”

  “I know, but you said you wouldn’t hurt me. You staying here will hurt me. Please, just go.” I push him out the door, just enough to be able to close it. Leaning my head against the door, I mentally curse myself. Twice, I have pushed him away from me. I won’t be able to do it again.

  A small, white sheet of paper slides under the door. Folding it up, I stick his number in my back pocket. I listen with my ear pressed against the door, until I can’t hear his footsteps anymore. Rushing over to the window, I watch as Holden’s truck pulls away. I immediately regret my decision, but there is nothing I can do about it now.

  *****

  Everything is in its place. Michael’s dinner has been warmed and is now waiting for him on the table. I stand next to my chair, trying my best to remain calm, while a small white paper grows with weight in my pocket. I should have taken it out. My fingers go to reach for it, when I hear his key in the door. Shit. I forgot to lock it. I swallow so loud that it echoes in my ears. Cold sweat drips down my back, my palms are shaking. I can do this. I can last one more night.

  “Carsten.” My name falls from his lips in a warning. I expect him to lash out or ask about the front door being unlocked, but he says nothing. Instead, he makes himself comfortable at the kitchen table, and takes a bite of the meatloaf I have warmed for him. “Sit down. I don’t like when people hover over me while I eat.”

  The chair scrapes against the floor as I pull it out. Placing my hands in my lap, I nervously wait for his next move. He finishes his entire meal before looking up at me again.