Page 3 of Until Tomorrow Comes
My normal light blue eyes were dull. The bags under them matched the bruises that I knew decorated my ribs. After a long moment of talking myself out of it, I finally convinced myself to take my shirt off. Each of my ribs were clearly defined, showing just how much weight I had lost over the last year. Seeing myself like this, battered and broken, left me physically ill.
Once I finally composed myself, I did the only thing I could think of.
What Ishould’vedone the first time my husband hit me.
I texted my brother.
“I’m coming over. I need your help. I’ll explain when I get there.”
I didn’t even wait for a response. All I needed to do was get to Alan’s place and hope that he wouldn’t slam the door in my face.
I threw my phone on the bed and got packing before I could second guess myself, keeping it light with only a suitcase and duffle bag filled with the essentials.
When I rushed to get my passport and birth certificate from the safe in Zack’s office, a picture on his desk caught my eye. It was the picture of us smiling on our wedding day. We looked so happy that a sharp pain lanced through my heart. I didn’t understand when or why things went so wrong with us, but wehadbeen happy at some point. Hadn’t we?
Eventually I shook the thoughts from my head, locking them away, and left the office quickly.
But not quickly enough.
Zack walked through the front door just as I stepped into the foyer. He didn’t say anything, simply stared at my bags for what felt like an eternity before he turned his glare to me. I knew right then and there that this was going to be the worst attack of them all.
And given the fact that I’m now lying here, on my dining room floor, barely able to move… I was right.
I don’t bother trying to wipe away the tears. They roll down my face, creating a little puddle on the floor. Just one more thing to clean up.
The pounding in my head won’t stop.
Or is that the pounding on the front door?
I wince as I crane my neck to see into the foyer, where I catch a glimpse of fabric. With my slightly blurry vision, it takes a second to recognize it as part of my sweater. My next breath catches as I finally realize that my shirt is torn, barely covering my chest and waist.
“Kat! Open the door!”
That’s when I’m finally able to put it together that the shouting and pounding on my door is from Alan.
He came.
The sound of glass breaking causes me to flinch. I hear the door opening, and his panicked voice calling out for me again as he steps into the room.
I want to cover myself, the ache to hide this from him mixing with the physical pain radiating through every inch of my body.
Alan had been right all along.
Ihadbeen stupid. Zackwasn’tgood for me. Hewaspoison.
I should’ve taken it slower with Zack. I should’ve listened to Alan’s warnings. I should’ve left the first time Zack hurt me.
But I didn’t. And here I am, my broken body lying helplessly in the wreckage of the life I should’ve had… caused by the very person I thought loved me.
“Kat?” Alan calls out and another tear falls free as he steps into the dining room.
I should have known he would have my back, even if we haven’t spoken in a year. He’s my big brother. He always said he would be there if I needed him.
And he came.
A whimper bubbles up my throat, but no words form as he glances around, taking in the mess that separates us with widened eyes.
“Kat?” He whispers as his eyes trail the wreckage, landing on the pieces of my torn sweater. He takes a step forward, his foot crunching broken glass as his gaze finally collides with mine.
