“Since you’ve asked us to pick you up in the middle of the night. I’m going to presume your husband or ex-husband doesn’t know you’ve left. If we’re bringing you into the clubhouse, is he going to come looking for you? What should we expect to happen?”
Focusing on my bag, I fidget with the handle. “He doesn’t know I left or where I’m going, so there shouldn’t be any issues. He might search for me, but he won’t know that I’ll be with Elena.”
“Yeah... and what’s with the black eye and bruised cheek?” asks Jake.
“When he lost his job, his drinking got worse, so I packed a bag and started saving money because I didn’t know how much longer I could handle his nasty remarks and controlling behavior. But yesterday was the first day that he hit me, and I knew it was time to leave because he was out of control and if I didn’t get out now”—I lift my hand to my throat—“I don’t know how far he would go next time.”
Because there would be a next time... There is always a next time.
Elena faces me. “I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you leave when it got bad? You should have called me; I would have been there for you.”
Worthlessness bubbles up inside of me. “I didn’t think it would come to this. We had to get through it together. I really tried to make it work.” Self-loathing takes its place because maybe I didn’t try hard enough.
Closing my eyes, I bring my feet up onto the seat and pull my knees to my chest to hug myself. Distant chatter continues, and exhaustion weighs heavily on me. I’m floating, followed by music and muffled voices, but the pull to sleep is stronger, and it takes over once more.
TWO
BROKEN INSIDE
Ava
“Don’t wake her.”
“Why? What if she has a concussion? It’s been twelve hours.”
My eyes creep open at Elena’s voice. The beat of the drums and guitar riffs are coming from the music downstairs. It takes a moment to get my bearings until the memories of last night hit me.
I scan my surroundings. The room is small and plain, with painted white walls and an old wooden chest at the end of the bed, against the wall. I’m in a gigantic bed with faded blue sheets.
“You saw her. She needs all the rest she can get.”
I notice the voice. It’s Jake. However, his nickname at the wedding was Axle.
“You can come in,” I say, my voice hoarse. There’s a light thudding in my head.
The door opens slowly, and Elena’s head pops around it, a frown on her face.
“Please don’t give me the sympathy look,” I tell her while she closes the door.
She blows out a breath. “It’s not sympathy.” She peers at the ground. “I hate seeing you hurting like this.”
She sits on the edge of the bed next to me, her eyes traveling around my face. “You know me. I hate conflict, and I’m not one to wish harm on someone but...” She blinks furiously, as if trying not to cry.
She’s such a gentle soul, and I have no idea how she ended up here, of all places. I put my hand on hers and squeeze.
“...I hope he gets hit by a bus or something.”
I laugh, then flinch. “Don’t make me laugh. My ribs hurt.”
“What happened to your ribs?”
“I fell awkwardly when he hit me. I wasn’t expecting it, but, god, it’s painful.”
She frowns. “I never imagined him to be violent, but I thought you could have done better.”
When I think back to the last couple of years, even before he lost his job, it feels like one hand was around my throat and the other squeezing my heart. Nothing I did was ever good enough.
“I don’t want to talk about it right now... Anyway, how did you get a biker as a husband? I never got to ask at the wedding.” We didn’t get to spend much time together, and when I was coming back from the restroom, Beau saw me talking to a biker. That was it. We had to go home.
