Page 4 of Beaten

“Itbetter not.”

I’d shuddered at the threat in his tone and began picking up the pieces of glass. When I cut myself, I cried out. Then, not wanting to get yelled at or hit again, I quickly wiped my hand on my pants and wrapped it with one of the the rags I was using to clean the mess.

Afterwards, I was in the bathroom, cleaning and bandaging my hand. The skin around my eye was already changing color.How many times can I convince people I accidentally walked into something?Wincing as I ran my hand under cold water, I hadn’t heard Craig came up behind me.I should have closed the door. Not that a closed door would’ve kept him out.

“Let me help.” He picked up the bottle of hydrogen peroxide with one hand and held my cut hand in the other. Before pouring it on my cut, he said, “This may sting a bit.” A stranger observing might believe he cared, but there was no compassion or empathy in his voice.

After he’d left me alone, I went to our bedroom and texted my brother.

Something came up. I can’t make the SSI ribbon cutting. Please tell them congratulations from me.

Sure thing. Everything okay?

Yeah. Just busy.

Okay. Talk soon? Vicky says she needs a girls day and Zoe misses her Auntie.

Tell them we’ll schedule something soon. Love you.

After my bruises heal.This wasn’t the first visit to Weatherford I’d had to cancel.

I shook my head to clear the memory and wiped my eyes. Hoping to drown out the voices in my head, I cranked up the volume on the radio with a shaking hand.

It wasn’t always like this. In the beginning he’d been charming, fun, supportive. I couldn’t put my finger on when things had changed, but I vividly remembered the first time he’d punched a hole in the wall—he’d apologized and promised it’d never happen again. I’d believed him. At to be fair, he kept his word. He never hit the wall again.

My knuckles were white and stiff from my death grip on the steering wheel, so I shook them out, one at a time, to get the blood flowing again. I should have left him a long time ago, when he first started slapping me around. But he’d always begged for my forgiveness, often surprising me with flowers. He always sounded sincere, so I always forgave him. By the time he stopped apologizing, and started blaming me for his outbursts, I was too scared and ashamed to leave.AndnowI’m paying the price for my fear and weakness.

Not wanting to wake Vicky or Zoe, I texted Chris after I parked so I wouldn’t have to knock. He met me in the driveway, held eye contact for a moment, then hugged me. The kind of tight hug that makes a little sister feel loved and safe, even if it did hurt my bruised body.

I saw anger flash across his face as he inspected my face and arms. Through clenched teeth, he said, “Let’s get you inside so you can get cleaned up and convince me I shouldn’t go to Houston right now and kick his ass.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Chris wasn’t small or weak, but he wasn’t exactly the macho alpha-male kick someone’s ass type either. At least not physically, he’d been working a desk job since joining Dad’s insurance company after graduating from college.

He helped me carry my bags to the guest room and told me to take a few minutes to myself. “I’ll put some tea on while I wait in the kitchen.”

“Okay, I’ll be right out.” I’d cried most of the five-hour drive home, only stopping during moments of anger, mostly at myself, so I was grateful for a chance to wash off the layers of tear stains.I was so stupid for staying with him so long.

Once in the kitchen, Chris handed me my favorite floral mug. The warmth felt good in my hands and the Lemon Ginger scent was soothing as I gathered my courage.No more covering for Craig. I’d decided on the ride home I’d tell Chris everything. No more secrets. No more hiding. I’d kept Craig’s drinking and abuse from everyone for far too long.

Even though I was determined to tell Chris everything, I still struggled to find the words. I didn’t like admitting howweak and pathetic I’d become. If I could have just done better, been better, tried harder; then he wouldn’t need to get so angry or teach me a lesson.At least that’s what Craig told me.

“It wasn’t always like this. At first it was insults or him getting irritated anytime I wasn’t happy-go-lucky. Then he started yelling and throwing things,” I sniffled, “but I didn’t think he’d ever hit me.” The tea sloshed in my cup as I brought it to my lips with trembling hands, I could taste the salt from my tears as I licked my lips before taking a sip. It took another hour of me stopping and starting before I got it all out. Chris was patient, as expected, and tried his hardest to control his anger. Surprisingly, he didn’t ask me why I didn’t leave sooner, though it was a valid question.

One I’d been asking myself all night but still couldn’t answer. I was a smart girl, and knew better than to expect him to change, but somewhere along the way I’d forgotten that. And how to stand up for myself.

We stayed up late; me pouring out my guts, sharing my fear, shame, and guilt, and him reassuring me I didn’t deserve the abuse, and that none of this was my fault.

I wiped my eyes for the millionth time, then blew my nose, adding the tissue to the growing pile on the table. “I’ve kept you up. I’m sorry.”

He reached across the table and held my hand. “No need to apologize. I called off work tomorrow so I can stay up all night if you need me to.” I didn’t ask what excuse he gave, trusting he wouldn’t have told Dad the real reason.

“Thank you.” I open my mouth to say something else but was so overcome with gratitude I started crying again before I could get the words out.

Chris came around the table, put an arm around me and gave me half a hug as he handed me a tissue. “That’s what big brothers are for.”

When I was ready for bed, I gathered up my used tissues and threw them away before collecting our mugs and putting them in the sink. “Thanks again for letting me stay tonight.”

“You can stay as long as you need to.” Then added, “but you can’t hide this from Mom and Dad, you’ll have to tell them.”He probably thinks I’ll try. He knew me too well; the thought had crossed my mind.

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