Others, seeing what was happening, pushed her toward the door and filed out behind her, grumbling and moaning. A few moments later I heard bikes being kicked into life.
Letting out the breath I held, I closed my eyes and sucked in another deep breath in its wake. I felt a stinging pain race through me and stumbling forward, dropped the bat and phone. My arms shot forward in an effort to break my fall but landed flat on my face.
The bitch, I’ll rip her fucking head off. I rolled onto my back, ready to kick out, but it was Ben I came face to face with. He was beyond pissed. I’ve seen a dozen shades of rage in his eyes but this one is a new shade of fucked off.
“You fucking bitch.” He spat beer mixed with saliva onto me as he dropped down on top of me.
I was beyond pissed, wanting to fight back on one hand but wanting him to go and get fucked on the other. I tried to shove him away.
“Just get out, Ben. Go away, please just leave me alone.” I pleaded with him, not wanting this to become more than I knew it would be – a simple beating.
Men and women are milling around, watching how Ben behaves, he’ll want to show them he’s a man in charge, not a broken, drunk soldier.
His nicotine stained fingers laced around my throat before he punched me in the side of my face, sending it slamming into the floor to my right. The pain ripped through me, a reminder I am weak not strong. To him I’m worthless and he hates me with a passion.
“Who do you think you are, aye?” He slapped my face from side to side, chanting the same statement over and over.
His weight pushed me into the floor and I felt a bottle of something crack and break beneath me. Pain seared like a red-hot branding iron through my body.
“Kicking my mates out, you piece of shit.” He spat in my face, his fingers squeezed tight around my throat.
Black dots formed at the backs of my eyes as tears stung within. His grip was vice like and I watched the vein in his forehead pulse, purple in anger. Saliva formed at the corners of his mouth. My vision was fading as was the will to live in this hell hole with him. It was a sharp reminder, there was no escape.
One more punch to my face sent a horrific cracking sound echoing around the room. The remaining party goers gasped as my eye socket shattered.
The blackness swirled in faster, pain enveloped me. Blood dripped into my eye causing me to see nothing but red. Huge, roughened hands grabbed Ben, pulling him from me before darkness engulfed me and I was gone.
CHAPTER EIGHT
GRACIE-MAY
The following morning, my eyes fluttered open and shut just as fast when shards of light streamed through the window, almost blinding me.
I moaned loudly and lifted a hand to where pain radiated through my face, inside and out. I ran fingers over the swelling and memories of the previous night slammed into me.
I forced my eyes open again and glanced around to find I was in my own bed, fully clothed and under the covers. What the hell happened, how the hell did I get here? Last thing I remembered was a bearded biker pulling a seething, beyond furious Ben off me.
Finally stopping him from beating me, I was sure my eye socket was broken. How am I going to explain a shiner which would take over a month to heal? I dreaded looking in the mirror, the bruising would be extreme, I would probably scare the shit out of myself. I expected my eye would be bloodshot with broken vessels, it would look like I was crying blood.
I threw the blankets back, the cool breeze from the window caused goosebumps to break out over my skin. My feet sank into the plush black carpet as they hit the floor and I dug my toes into the softness, like I did every morning.
My head thumped and I steadied myself on the side of the bed before padding to the bathroom.
As I suspected, when I glanced in the mirror, I found my face was a mess.
I dabbed Arnica over the various cuts near my eyes. My eyebrow was cut open and smeared with dry blood. The top lip was split and swollen to twice its normal size. I looked horrendous.
How the hell was I supposed to go into work looking the way I was? It was sickening, I’d scare everyone half to death. And questions. There would be so many damn questions. Judgements and advice on why I should leave him. No shit, I know I should leave him but it wasn’t as simple as what people thought.
I headed to the lounge room and kitchen and was greeted with an unholy mess – it seemed everything was broken.
My back burned on remembering the glass bottle which shattered under my body during Ben’s attack.
I’d have to suck it up, as usual and call Martha. I needed her to look me over and check for glass lodged in my back.
Searching for my phone, I was relieved to find it in the back pocket of my jeans, thank God it wasn’t broken. My screen was blinking hot from all the missed calls and messages. Fuck, Kaden. Palming my hair, I twisted my fingers into its length and winced in pain when I pulled at the strands. Something else I’d fucked up.
I headed back to my bedroom and dropped onto the mattress, curling into a fetal position.
