Avery
His breathing is like a roar in my ear and the weight of his arm across my body feels like a heavy chain anchoring me to the bed. I push past the ache in my ribs the weight causes by distracting myself with the calculations I’ve run in my head so many times that I know the figures down to the penny. There’s ninety-two dollars and fifty-seven cents hidden in a Ziploc bag in the lining of the couch along with a double stack of polaroid pictures that might buy me some time. Ninety-two dollars and fifty-seven cents. It’s not enough but now I don’t have a choice and it will have to be. We’ve been trapped in this house for the last four years with no option to escape. He doesn’t allow me to have a phone, a bank account, or any of my own money. I can’t even go grocery shopping on my own. He takes care of that by ordering online and picking it up on his way home from work.
I have no family and now no friends to run to for help and every person who has met my husband thinks he’s the most charming man and would never believe what he does to me behind these four walls. They see a hardworking, successful realtor and a generous man that volunteers his time. I see ugly put-downs, rage, hard fists, and the black and blue bruises he puts on my body. And now, I see my five-year-old daughter’s arm in a cast. Something I vow never to let happen again.
It’s taken me months to accumulate that little amount of money by returning hundreds of his beer cans and liquor bottles to the depot between our house and the school and stealing change from his pockets whenever I think he won’t notice. Even then, it was a neighbor who made up the bulk of my savings by paying me twenty bucks twice to feed her cats while she was away for a couple of weekends. I had to sneak over to her place while he was at open houses so he wouldn’t know I was helping her.
The only reason this will even be possible is because Chloe turned that magical age of five years old and that meant kindergarten. For the first time since we got married six years ago, I have my own car. It’s not mine-mine, it’s his, and he checks the odometer every day when he gets home to make sure it never goes over the twelve miles I’m allowed to drive each day. Three miles to the school, three miles back, and repeat for pick up. Never further or there’s…consequences. There’s never a full tank of gas either. He keeps it at a quarter tank at all times. It’s just one more way he has of controlling every move I make. That brings me back to my next calculation. Fifty-one dollars and twenty cents should fill the tank with today’s pump prices. That will leave me with…forty-one dollars and thirty-seven cents. It’s not enough.
How far can I really get on one tank of gas? Will it be far enough and then what? Not enough left over for somewhere for us to stay. We’ll have to live in the car until I can find a job and it’ll have to be something I can take Chloe to as I work. Forty-one dollars and thirty-seven cents to feed us…no…her, to feed her until I can make some money somehow. I know there are shelters and state assistance I could go to and get but that’s not an option. The minute Chloe and I go into the system is the minute I’ll lose her. After all, he’s a pillar of the community with the money for expensive lawyers and I know firsthand that no one will ever believe me around here.
My mind goes around and around trying to decide if I’m doing the right thing or not. How can I take my baby girl from her warm bed only to have us be homeless and destitute? A flash of memory has me hearing that nausea-inducing snap as her wrist broke when he threw her across the room, enraged that she dared to try and stop him from doling out the punishment of my latest infraction to his many rules. No, that can never happen again. Better to be homeless for a while than have that or even worse ever happen again.
When he scooped her up and rushed out to go to the hospital, I lost my mind for a little while but then cold hard desperation pushed aside the fear I’d lived with for so long and I started to plan, to prepare. While they were gone, I packed as much as I dared into the trunk and the floor of the back seat. Clothing, toiletries, spare blankets, pillows, and food all got crammed in. As much food as I could take from the fridge and freezer as well as canned goods and ways to cook it. It was a huge gamble that it would be dark when they got back and he wouldn’t notice everything missing as he started to drink. I spent most of the evening holding my breath as he drank away the guilt he might have felt for harming our little girl that way.
I see Chloe’s glazed eyes from the pain medication the doctor gave her to set her arm as I put her to bed and the bright-pink cast she clutched against her tiny chest. That’s the final nudge I need to gently slide out from under his arm and tuck a pillow where my body just was. I tiptoe away from the bed and to the door. I don’t bother looking at his nightstand where he locks up his wallet and phone every night. It’s like he knows this will happen one day so I won’t be able to steal whatever cash he has in it. I swallow hard as I pull our bedroom door closed so it doesn’t even make a whisper of noise as it closes and then I’m moving…fast.
I race into Chloe’s room and by the dim light of her nightlight pull the change of clothes I had stuffed under her bed as well as my running shoes and quickly get dressed. I stare down at her small, sweet form with my chest heaving at the panic and anxiety I’m feeling but the heavy cast on her tiny arm has my fingers clenching into fists. I’m doing this. I leave her for now and move out to the living room. My knees drop to the carpet in front of the couch and I fish out the baggie of money and pictures stashed inside. I take out one stack of the pictures and the sticky note I wrote earlier and fan them out on the kitchen counter so he will see them when he wakes up. My breath hitches at the images. Seeing so many of them all at once makes me hate myself for staying so long. Each polaroid shows a different beating. My body is covered in the damage he’s done to me in the past. Also in each picture, I’m holding a newspaper so that the date is shown. It’s a history of the abuse he’s inflicted on me over the years. I don’t even understand how I became this broken and abused woman. Somehow, it crept up on me until it was too late.
I rub my thumb over the sticky part of the post-it to make sure it will stay in place and read the simple words that I hope will buy me enough time to get far away.
If you come after us, I will make sure every person in this town sees these. I have copies to share. Please, let us go.
That’s it, just a tiny threat and a simple plea. It’s all I’ve got. I turn away from the counter and let my eyes do one last sweep around the room for anything else I need to take but my body has started to shake in fear that he will wake up and find out what I’ve done so I speed back to Chloe’s room and scooped her up making sure her Bear-Bear is in the blankets I wrap her in. She droops against me not even stirring from the pain medication she’s been given so I hold her tight and leave the room, ignoring the strain and the pain it causes my damaged ribs. Straight to the front door we go, where I snag my jacket and purse as well as the keys to the car. My heart’s pounding so loud in my ears that I keep looking over my shoulder, convinced he’s coming after us and worried that I won’t hear him from the roaring in my ears.
I get the door open and gently close it behind us biting my split lip until I taste blood. I run, shuffle across the lawn with her in my arms never so grateful that he makes me park outside so he can take the heated garage for his BMW. If I had to open the overhead door to escape, I just know it would wake him. When I packed the car earlier, I took the chance of leaving the doors unlocked so it would be easier to get into with my hands full. I have to choke back sobs of terror as I get Chloe strapped into her car seat and ease the door closed sending another fearful look back at the house. I search for any lights that have come on but I think he’s still passed out. It doesn’t matter, I won’t feel safe until we leave this town and probably not even then. I don’t think I will ever really feel safe again unless he’s dead.
When I slide behind the wheel, the keys clutched in my fist, I hover them in front of the ignition. This is it; this is the moment that will change everything. I brush the tears from my face with my shoulder and with a heaving breath, jam the key in and turn it, bringing the car to life. I don’t look to the house or wait for it to warm up in the cold November night, I just push it into drive and ease down the driveway and onto the street with the headlights off. When I reach the stop sign at the end of the street, I turn left toward the freeway and only then, hit the button to turn the headlights on. My fingers pulse with pain from how hard I’m holding the steering wheel as I force myself to stay at the speed limit through town even though every part of me is screaming to GO! I pass six different gas stations and ignore them all. The quarter tank of gas needs to get me at least to the next town before I even think about stopping to refuel.
A small sob escapes me as I get on the freeway and merge into the light traffic heading south away from our home, away from him but my fingers stay tight on the wheel. A glance up into the rear-view mirror shows the peaceful sleeping face of my baby and a tiny bit of the tension in my shoulders eases. I’ll get gas at the next town and then I’ll just keep driving until the tank is empty. Every mile I put between us and him will get us that much closer to safety…to freedom.
Ninety-two dollars and fifty-seven cents. It’s not enough but I will find a way to make it enough…for her.
Avery
The sun is rising, my eyelids are drooping and the gas tank gauge has just dipped under a quarter tank when I take the next exit. Numbers fill my head to keep myself awake as I search for a place to stop. Three hundred and thirty-seven miles is how far I’ve driven us. Three states between us and him. Six hours since we left him and forty-one dollars and thirty-seven cents in my purse. My bladder is screaming at me that it won’t hold out much longer and I see Chloe stirring in her car seat so I search for a fast-food restaurant we can stop at and spot one up ahead that also has a play place inside. When I put the car in park in front of it, I let my burning eyes close for just a moment but they pop open at the small voice coming at me from the back seat.
“Mommy, I have to pee! My arm is owie. Where are we?”
Deep breath and fix a smile on my face as I turn in my seat to face her.
“Morning, baby! I have to pee too! We are on a fun adventure trip. I’m sorry your arm hurts but I have some medicine that will help make it feel better. Why don’t we go inside to use the bathroom and then we can have some breakfast?”
She gives a distracted nod as she looks around out of the windows. It turns into a big-eyed hopeful look when she spots the jungle gym through the large restaurant windows.
“Mommy…look! Can I play in there?”
She whispers in awe and it makes me realize that my baby has never been to such a simple childhood staple as a fast-food play place so I nod in agreement. I shut the car off and go to the trunk first, sliding on my oversized, dark sunglasses to hide the black eye and shivering in the cold morning air. I grab a backpack and fill it with a set of clothes for Chloe as she’s in her pajamas and some toiletries as well as the children’s Tylenol. The heavier prescription pain syrup he brought home from the hospital will only be used at bedtime. I put in a couple of juice boxes, a coloring book, crayons, and a blank notebook for me to write in and then slam the trunk closed.
Chloe is bouncing in her seat from needing to pee and with the excitement of going to a new place she’s never been to before so I quickly slide her boots and jacket on, struggling to get it over her cast, and lead her into the restaurant. I’m thankful for the handicapped stall in the ladies’ room with its own sink as it gives me more space and privacy to get us cleaned up and dressed. I do the best I can to cover the bruises around my eye and mouth with thick concealer but it will be days before the injuries fade enough to really be covered by makeup. The scarf around my neck and my clothing will hide the rest of them from anyone who looks too closely.
I give Chloe a dose of medicine and then take her hand as we walk up to the counter. I know I have to order something to be allowed to stay but the menu prices start to blur as those damn numbers flash through my mind.
“What can I get ya?” The cashier asks, breaking me out of my frozen anxiety.
My tongue darts out to swipe at my split lip and the older woman looks me over, switches to Chloe and spots the cast on her arm and then looks back to me with narrowed eyes. I swallow the knot in my throat and push a smile onto my face.
“Um, can I get a kid's pancake meal, please? And, um, instead of the juice it comes with, um, can I have a coffee instead?”
