Naomi sits to my right and Sam sits on my left. “So, what’s your story?” Naomi asks.
Sam swats at her and tells her to hush. “We all have a story; she hasn’t been ready to share hers yet.”
“No. It is okay. I think I’m ready now,” I whisper.
All of their attention turns, and I have the floor.
This is it, Blake. Here’s your chance to show everyone why you are a scared fucking stupid girl who stayed in a marriage for too long even after the abuse got worse.
I let out a breath and sit on my hands to keep them from shaking. “It started out just like any other marriage. Love, happiness, laughter. Until the first time my husband shouted at me and called me vile things after drinking one too many drinks.”
Both women nod like they understand.
“I dated Craig in high school, so he was all I ever knew. I didn’t have anyone to compare him to. And at the beginning, he treated me like a queen. I got the royal treatment from him at all times.” I smile, thinking back to our first couple of years together. “God, people were so jealous of us. I was the fat kid in high school. Hell, I mean, I’m still big now. But it was worse in my teenage years.”
I look down at the ground and bite my lip.
“And somehow, I got the guy everyone sought after.” I laugh. “If only they knew how we would end up.” I let out a breath. “It started off with just mean names or hurtful words. If I’m being honest, I just chalked those up to being mad at me or drunk, which was the usual occasion.”
“He never really laid his hands on me. I guess I should be thankful for that.” The words feel hollow even as I say them. “Up until recently, it was just his words that cut deep–sharp and precise, designed to break me down little by little. Or the way he treated me during sex. That is how he punished me the most.” I tilt my head up to look up at the stars. “He’d make it all about him–use me, take what he wanted and then roll over and sleep, leaving me there, raw and aching, needing something he’d never give me. He knew exactly what he was doing. Knew how to make me feel worthless without ever laying a hand on me.” A shakybreath escapes me. “I know I should have left after the first time he was too drunk to see clearly and treated me so poorly, but I thought it was normal. I thought when he was sober it would be okay.”
“Abusers never are.” Sam pipes in, with a knowing voice.
Abuser? But he didn't hit me, it was all words it wasnt really abuse… was it?
The label wraps around me, suffocating, heavier than I expected. I’ve spent so long ignoring the obvious, pushing it down, convincing myself it wasn't that bad. But when you hear it out loud it’s like when you bring the word to light, it makes it real.
The word lingers in the air between us and for the first time I can't hide from the truth–I was abused.
I nod. “Yeah. After a while, Charlie was born. It was okay for a while. He was nicer. Showed us both more attention than usual.”
Naomi lights up a cig and leans back in her chair.
“Then it all went to shit from there. I wasn’t allowed to have friends or stay out later than expected. He wanted me home to cook and clean and to do my womanly duties.” I scoff. “God, he got mean as hell over the years if I think about it. There were times I wished he would just beat the shit out of me instead of treating me like shit. But he never would.”
I shift in my seat. “He would just scream at me from across the room or in my face. Never really physically attacked me until one day in the kitchen. It was 10 a.m., and he went for a beer as soon as he got back from running errands. Of course I questionedhim, because it was fucking 10 a.m., and he was just mean as hell to me and Charlie.”
Tears start to trail down my face as I look over at my daughter laughing with her friends. “That was when he attacked me.” I raise my hair to show my blackened eye. “This was the first punch he threw.” I run my fingers along my neck to show the bruising there. “This was from him almost killing me in the hallway upstairs because I chased him down after he chased Charlie upstairs.” I swipe at the tears that fall and try to cover up my shame.
“The only reason I got out alive is because Charlie hit him on the back of the head with a baseball bat and knocked him out. Then we just took off and never looked back.”
Their sad faces show that they feel pity for me, and I hate it. I can’t stand to see the look. I get up from my chair and go to walk away from them when Sam grabs my hand. “Stop!” I look down at her.
“I don’t want your pity. I know I was stupid for staying as long as I did. I know I should’ve left the first time he was abusive toward me. Charlie deserved better than that.”
Sam violently shakes her head and pulls up her sleeve to show a long, jagged scar that goes from her wrist to her elbow. “I feel no pity for you, Blake. I’m just living through my own hell from your story, is all. This,” she points to the scar, “was from my first husband. He told me if I didn’t stay that he would kill me, and no one would have me.” She scrunches her nose. “I thought I called his bluff and nearly died. He tied me up and threw me in the bathtub and then slashed my arms on both sides. If my neighbordidn’t hear me screaming for help and called the cops, I’d be dead right now.”
She shakes her head. “I have more scars on my body from fighting for my life than a wartime hero.” She leans forward and grabs my hand. “We all have a battle we fought. The fact that we are here in this moment means we won. You can breathe easier now.”
I nod and wipe my tears.
Can I truly breath easier now? Or am I kidding myself pretending I have won when the war still rages inside me? I know Hunter is nothing like Craig, he doesn't speak in knifes, he doesn't punish me with silence or cruelty. But Craig is still out there. He is still lurking in the shadows of my mind. I don't know if I will ever be able to accept that Ideservethe way Hunter treats me. Or that this is real. Or that is safe. That I’m not still fighting for my life.
Chapter 47
Hunter
I hated leaving Charlie and Blake at the clubhouse. The thought of getting back to them quickly, plagues me. I love being on the open road with the wind in my face and the comradery of my brothers, but I love being inside Blake more. That thought alone has me pulling the throttle a little harder to get to where we are going quicker.
