One rule I would always abide by was to leave. Leave situations. Leave marriages. Leave relationships. Leave jobs. Leave houses. Leave careers. Leave teams. Leave friends. Leave family. Leave cities. Leave.
The audacity to leave the first time is a woman’s superpower. The audacity to leave at all is her greatest strength. Because, more often than not, staying is easier. Less painful. Less chaotic.
Eventually, he’d find his way to Dooley. Not only because I’d left our home in the middle of the night with a duffle bag full of his money, but because deep down, he believed I’d always belong to him. Frankly, I had too. He had not only come for his money. He’d come for me.
Discovering Flocco was my lover was the first blow.
Knowing he and Flocco shared a father and he’d been the chosen child was the second blow.
Denying him was another heavy blow.
And, finally, refusing to tell him where his money was sent him over the edge.
So many timesZeek had confided in me about the strained relationship between him and his father. Yet, he’d never told me that the weekend we met during his visit to Dooley was the weekend he ended his father’s life. Neither had he told me he had a brother. Or a stepmother. Or a harbored hatred for them all.
My heart ached as I replayed everything from that night. His forced entry into my home. The fighting. The growing exhaustion that allowed him to overpower me. The fists to therib cage. To the stomach. To the face. The struggle over the gun. The blessing that led to the gun falling between the mattress and bedframe due to the constant movement of my body as I fought for my life.
His skin.
His body.
His voice.
His presence.
I’d been sleeping with the enemy and was clueless.
After emptying his clip in Zeek, Flocco didn’t move. He unlocked his cellphone and called the authorities. He was licensed to carry. Zeek had forced his entrance. And, my badly bruised body was evidence of what was happening in my home. No charges were filed. Handcuffs never met Flocco’s wrist.
That night, he carried me to his car and drove me to his home where I’d been ever since. I hadn't visited my home. However, I was growing anxious and could feel the desire to return creeping up in my bones.
“Any questions?” Professor Ingrid asked.
My eyes traveled across the room, waiting for a hand to go up in the air.
Good.
After a few seconds of silence passed, I shoved my books in my backpack and stood. My bag slid onto my shoulders easily. Since returning, I chose to sit at the back of the classroom. Some things still hurt after that night. Specifically my rib cage.
I’d taken several blows to the stomach and the sides. The trauma of my face looked much worse than it was due to my skin complexion, but it was my body that hurt the worst.
And my pride.
