“We’re almost there. You okay?” my husband asks as he gives my hand another gentle squeeze.
He’s been so good all these years with all I’ve had to go through. The months in the hospital after they found me half-buried in the woods. So many surgeries to repair my face, most of which haven’t done what I prayed for but only did little to fix the damage from being beaten nearly to death.
You see, there were two victims that night. That old man Connor insisted on going after and me. I made the mistake of looking for him to make sure he was okay, and he returned my kindness by savagely attacking me. I didn’t understand then, but I’ve come to over the years.
I was a witness to his heinous crime, so he had to get rid of me. He thought he did too. With his fists, he pummeled my face over and over until I must have been unrecognizable. Then he wrapped his hands around my neck and squeezed the life out of me until I blacked out.
He thought I was dead. He thought he’d gotten rid of the only person who knew what he’d done. So he buried me in a shallow grave, but by the grace of God himself, someone came along and interrupted him, making it necessary for him to abandon me only half-hidden under the rotting leaves and dirt he intended to make my final resting place.
I swear I can still smell the earthy scent of death that filled my nostrils for hours that night. It haunts me to this day. Ialways wear perfume to keep it from invading my senses, but sometimes no matter how much I put on, that terrible smell still overwhelms me.
Closing my eyes, I lift my wrist to my nose and inhale deeply. Today, I wore the perfume my husband loves. He says it makes him think of that week we spent at the beach right after we started dating. He has lots of happy memories of our time together.
I wish I did, but I’ve spent most of the past two decades wishing I looked different, not the scarred mess I see every time I see myself in a mirror. Before that fateful night, I used to admire myself in anything that would show me a reflection. Mirrors. Windows. Anything that showed me how beautiful I was.
That changed that night. Since then, I avoid looking at myself as much as I can. Mornings are the hardest because that’s when I have to stare into the mirror as I do my hair. Even those fifteen minutes a day make me sick to my stomach. If I could do it with my eyes closed, I would. Anything to avoid seeing what I look like.
I wish I could see myself through my husband’s eyes. He somehow sees a beautiful woman he loves. Or at least that’s what he tells me. I don’t think he lies so much as sees what he wants instead of what’s really there.
My mind drifts back to that terrible night when my life changed forever. If I’m being honest, the person I was disappeared that night.
With each step I take, I want to scream. Where is Samantha? We need to get back to her car and head to her grandmother’s house. I don’t care if she’s hitting it off with that guy she went off with. Mine’s a psycho, and the sooner I get away from him, the better.
Thank God for the full moon tonight, or I don’t think I’d be able to see two feet in front of me in these woods. “Samantha!” I say in the loudest whisper I can manage. “Come on. We need to go. Where are you?”
I get no response. Where can she be?
The sound of a branch snapping behind me makes me spin around in panic, and I see a squirrel race past me as my heart nearly explodes out of my chest. Damn flying rat! Go to sleep and stop scaring me.
“Samantha! Please answer me! We need to get out of here right now,” I say, wishing I could do more than loudly whisper, but I don’t want Connor to know where I am. The last thing I need now is to have to deal with him.
Footsteps come up behind me so fast that I barely have time to turn around, and a second later, he’s on me. He takes me to the ground, and for a split second, it feels playful, like we’re being silly out here.
But then I look up into his eyes and see it’s not playing he has on his mind.
“Connor! Let me go!” I cry out loudly, hoping his friends and Samantha will hear me.
The first time his fist slams into my face he splits my lower lip wide open. I’ve never been hit in the face before, and it stuns me for a moment or two. I don’t get a chance to recover before his fist crashes into my cheekbone next. Pain radiates up through my eye, and all I want to do is cry.
“Stop! Don’t do this!” I sob and flail my hands to stop him, but it’s like he’s a man possessed and nothing I’m saying is making it through the haze of his rage.
Over and over, he punches me until I can barely feel it. I continue to scream for him to stop and let me go, but he never responds, never even acknowledges what I’m saying to him.
It’s like I’m not even here, except for the fact that he keeps attacking me.
Then he stops for a second or two, and I see him lean over toward my right side. Is he done? I try to listen for sounds of anyone coming to help me, but all I hear are birds in the distance making screeching noises.
Suddenly, he rises up, and I watch in horror as he lifts his arm to continue beating me, but now he holds a rock in his hand! I turn my head to avoid it, and he slams it into my cheekbone, ripping the skin wide open. I feel myself fading away with each time the rock smashes my face.
Finally, he sits back on my legs and looks down at me. The hate in his eyes terrifies me, but I need to try to reach him before he begins hitting me again.
“Connor, please let me go. I promise I won’t say a word to anyone. I swear. Just let me go. Please.”
Blood seeps out of my mouth and down my chin as I speak. Everything hurts as I stare up at him and hope I can reach some part of Connor that understands what I’m saying.
When he finally says something, my heart drops. “I won’t let you ruin my life. That guy shouldn’t be dead. I just hit him a few times. But I won’t go to jail for a mistake. I won’t let you do that to me.”
I open my mouth to say I won’t tell a soul what I saw, but before I can get a word out, he lunges toward me, wrapping his hands around my throat. Pure terror rushes through me as I feel his fingers press into my flesh just below my ears and I begin to gag.
