I cross my arms over my stomach, wincing at the fresh pain from hours ago.
It’s been a few weeks since that night, and I know I have to get out of here before Ryan hurts me so badly I won’t be able to recover from the damage.
As I sneak a cigarette before heading back to the kitchen and preparing him a perfect lunch, my mind swirls through the hopes and dreams I once had that have been stripped from me.
“Clara, you okay?” Burke’s deep voice makes me jump.
A forced smile replaces the tears welling in my eyes, the sweet facade I maintain for everyone near me. I never want to let others know how trapped I have become.
Leaving should have been my first thought, but now I'm drowning in a situation that is designed to make me feel like I can't escape.
“Good morning,” I whisper, glancing up at his friendly face. “Hope you have a great day.”
His icy blue eyes lock with mine, and I look down to the cement slab outside our patio doors.
“I should be back in a few days. Tell Ryan he’s gotta pay his rent. Just because I’m his father doesn’t mean he gets to slack off on his responsibilities.”
I nod and wave as I head inside.
Like I’m the one who will ask Ryan to pay the rent. Slipping off my slides, I make my way through the living room to get back to preparing his food, but I run into him instead.
“You couldn’t have made my lunch any better? I work all fucking day, and the best you can do was a ham sandwich? What the fuck, Clara?”
“Ryan, I’m sorry. There are more containers.” I brush past him and try opening the fridge. Anxiety fills me as my muscles tense.
He clutches my ponytail, jerking me back, and my scalp screams in pain.
When Ryan slams me against the wall, I stare into his hazel eyes and bite the inside of my lip. He grips my throat, squeezing until black spots cloud my vision.
“You’re such a worthless fucking piece of shit. Can’t even serve me like I deserve.” Ryan spits in my face and drops me before grabbing his lunch bag and heading out the door.
I crumple to the grey marble tile floor, using the bottom of my shirt to wipe my cheeks. Tears fall, and I feel as broken now as I did as a child. Useless, except for what I can provide.
Memories of my stepfather matching what happened today flood my mind, and pain seeps through my veins.
With no friends and a family who abandoned me long ago, my thoughts drift to Ryan’s father. I know I could reach out to Burke. He has tried a few times to help me.
Sometimes I wonder how it would have been to meet someone like him before the claws of abuse sunk into my skin. I don’t want him to think less of Ryan, or of me, for staying as long as I have.
This wasn’t supposed to be my life. I dreamed for years of escaping abuse and growing up to be free. I had always hoped to break the cycle of a home filled with terror. I vowed it would be different when I left. Yet here I am in the safety net of violence, under someone else’s thumb and grasping at keeping the dark thoughts I’ve been having at bay.
Pulling myself off the ground, I run my fingers through my hair, checking for blood before I wander to the bedroom. I put on a pair of jeans and exchange my sleepshirt for a hoodie.
I’ve been covering for Ryan for so long that I’m concerned no one will believe me anymore, and the bruises from his touch are spreading like wildfire.
With my phone in hand, I decide I need to at least try. Using the non-emergency number, I wait to connect with someone.
“Hello, how can I help you?”
“Hi, I’m calling to report my boyfriend, Ryan Williamson. He’s um… abusive.”
“Are you in immediate danger, ma’am?” Her voice is gruff.
“No, but I might be when he gets home. It’s been happening for a while.”
The lady on the other end of the phone sighs. “Ma’am, you are free to go if you aren’t being held. Make the right decision. As for him, we can’t do anything until something happens.”
The phone is like a lead weight. Tears trickle down. “Thanks,” I say before hanging up.
