Page 54 of From the Ashes
I don’t move.
“I know I can’t change what happened. But…I wish I could, I…” My throat tightens, and I have to clear it, which never happens to me. “Forgive me, Mom, I… I tried, I really tried. But I couldn’t, he wouldn’t let me help you. I had to stay there and…watch.” I glance at the sky. The sun’s starting to rise, light breaking through the gray clouds. Finding its way into the darkness. “I loved you, and I still do. I…I hope you know that.” Running a hand on my face, I continue, “I killed him years ago. He didn’t deserve to live after what he did. I know that’s not enough, but that was all I could think about back then.” I kneel and wipe dust from the marble, cursing internally for not taking better care of their grave and for not coming to visit them earlier.
It took me thirteen years to be here.
But I guess it’s better late than never.
“I…” I swallow hard. “I love you, Em, Beth, Mom. And I swear to you that I’ll never let anyone I care about go through that again. Ever.” My fists are clenched while the sweet face of Lana flashes in my mind.
“There’s this woman,” I begin, “her name’s Lana. She reminds me of you. She got this smile that could warm up a block of ice. She’s sweet and kind, and…” I check that no one's around ‘cause I still got a reputation as a psychopath to hold on to. “She makes pancakes like we used to. I told her about you guys, and I think you would have liked each other just fine.” I nod a few times, ‘cause it’s true. My Lana and my family had a lot in common. They would have liked each other, I’m sure of it. “Perhaps, perhaps she’ll want to keep me, I just...wanted you guys to know that.” I stand and brush off my black jeans. “I’ll be back and I’ll get you flowers this time,” I mutter. Daisies,because they were Beth's favorites. I stay there a minute longer, almost hearing Emma’s laugh in the back of my mind. And then I walk back to the bike, and I ride away, knowing that I won’t fix the past, but I won’t sure as hell fuck up my future.
LANA
So many bruises.
So many pictures.
And the videos, God.
I watched it all.
Forty minutes of footage from ten different nights. I watched it all while Nancy was holding my hand, fighting back her tears just like I was. When I came back from our brunch, I decided it was time. So I slept, and the next day, I called my sister. She got there after breakfast, and we started from here. The urge to find the proof and watch them with my bare eyes made my stomach twist. I’m not scared of seeing it because I lived it already. I’m the one who took those photos and I’m the one who hid a camera to film him beating me. I had kept it all on a hard drive, in the back of my closet, in a cardboard box named “bank receipt” in case Noah felt curious one day. I didn’t want anyone finding this without me. I didn’t want anyone reaping my pain away from me.
I will be the one saving myself.
It’s hard to describe why I’m protective of it. Of my pain. Maybe it’s stupid. But I always had an idea in the back of my mind. The toxic thought that no matter how good my proof would be, they’d still be denied by the authorities. They could end up in the wrong hands and end up in the trash. Be forgotten the next day. And all my courage, my strength, all of it would have been for nothing. Like a pile of dried blood swept away bythe blow of the wind. I couldn’t take any chances handing these valuable proofs of my past to anyone. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to.
If anything, my only goal was to build my case. A case so strong and bulletproof that there was no way Ben could ever turn this against me. I had seen it on the internet, forums full of women claiming how the justice system had let them down. How their husbands had brainwashed the judges and policemen, making it look like they were whiny women. Little girls crying for the wolf while nobody believed them.
Where were the bruises now?
Are you sure he started it?
Did you strike back?
What were you wearing?
Ben was my wolf. Circling me in the dark, teeth out for the kill, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I knew it because of one thing. A one-second look he had given me last week when Carter pushed him away. One single look carrying so much threat and violence, my hair had risen on my back. The same stare he had given me over the years before each beating. I knew he would come back, and this time, I knew I had to be ready to fight back, or this would be the last time I’d ever get a chance to save myself.
Ben is a proud man. And you know what they say? Proud man, tiny ego. He won’t let this go easily, not if I don’t strike him back enough so that he falls down on the floor begging me for dear life. I may not have the strength to throw a punch worth one of a fighter, but I sure as hell have enough strength and courage in me to find a way to make him fold. And this box, with the small grey hard drive, could be my way out. My own pain and my own freedom. Life really has a twisted sense of humor.
I still don’t know if I’ll report him, but I want to have the option. And I need him to know that too. Nancy and I are bothsitting on my bed, cross-legged. I close the laptop after watching the last video where he was choking me on the living room rug after I dared to call him “impatient” for his promotion. Nancy leans closer, her voice gentle, “You okay?” I nod, shocked by the footage and how cruel and violent he was with me. Why did I wait for so long to even entertain the idea of filing a complaint?
“I… I feel like I’m watching someone else getting hurt. Like it’s a movie and I really don’t get why she doesn’t go away, why she doesn’t fight back. She’s just…so weak.” My palm presses against my mouth. Am I still this person? Too weak to strike back?
“Hey,” Nancy whispers, her hand falling on my shoulder with her large, creamy cardigan rolled around her. “Don’t,” she shakes her head, “he didn’t just abuse you physically, he also hurt you on the inside. I guess you’re feeling guilty because that’s exactly what he wanted you to feel. You’re not weak, damn it,” she curses, “you’re the bravest person I know, really. Some women wait all their lives for the right moment to leave, but you did it, you took your bags, your son, and you started from scratch. You’re a fucking warrior. Okay?” She takes my shoulders and shakes them, staring at me. “OKAY?” she shouts.
I chuckle, but a tear falls from my eyes. “Okay,” I murmur. She’s right. I know she is. Even if I know that not everything is black and white and that I do have a responsibility in staying, yes, he is the villain here. Clear as day. I guess I’ll have to say it to myself every morning until I believe it.
“What do you want to do with these?”
“I don’t know yet…” I shrug. “Perhaps get a lawyer and see if we can build a solid case. It’s just… I’m not sure I’m ready to go into battle with him. I don’t want to stop the visits or keep Noah away from him because he needs his dad, but….perhaps we could find a new arrangement with new visiting settings.”
“Don’t you want him to pay for what he did?” Her eyes are wide and hard, almost disappointed.
“You mean…sending him to jail?”
“Yes, that’s where he belongs, Lana.” She shakes her head.
