Mallory
Leaning back against the door, hand on my chest, my heart pounds, as if I just ran a sprint. My sobs steal my breath as I try to push the fear back down. How is it the first time I come out of the apartment, I run into Jason? My luck never changes. It was inevitable since he lives next door, but I hoped I would have a little better handle on myself before it happened. I had told Donna when we moved in I knew him from before and needed to lay low and avoid him since I didn’t want anyone knowing I was back before I was healed. Which was a great excuse to hide myself away from the world in this apartment. Physically, I’m almost there. Mentally…well, this just proved I’m nowhere near ready.
God, I wish Donna was still here, but I can’t keep her from her life. It would be selfish. For the first week, Donna had to help me with everything. And I do mean everything. Nothing will humble you like having someone else wiping your ass. I hurt so bad the first few days, I could barely move. She encouraged me to eat when I had no appetite. She gave me sponge baths and helped me dress in these old lady gowns she had bought while I winced in pain. Finally, the hurt receded enough that I could get up and in the shower. That was the most glorious feeling—the hot water beating down on my battered body. And washing my hair? Nothing felt as magnificent. Slowly, day by day, it became a little easier.
Deciding a shower is in order since I’m going to have company later whether I like it or not, I head that way. Wrapping the towel around me after getting out, I wipe away the condensation on the mirror and get a good look at what I’ve been avoiding. I need to know what Jason saw when he looked at me earlier. Touching the side of my face, most of the bruising has faded to the ugly yellow color. Moving my jaw back and forth, there is only a slight pain. I guess I should count myself lucky that he didn’t break my jaw. Diminishing yellow, greenish bruises dot my torso, along with my thighs. My ankle is still swollen and hurts if I put a lot of pressure on it. God, I’m a fucking mess. What the hell did he think when he saw me this way?
After limping into the bedroom, I put on my clothes, and strap my leg back into this clunky ass walking boot. Ibuprofen is calling my name as my ankle throbs in time with my heartbeat. Downing four of the clear blue capsules with a big gulp of water, I move to the couch to sit down, arranging myself so my leg is propped up and the pressure around my ribs lessens. I will never again question a patient when they complain about the pain of broken ribs. This crap ain’t for sissies. Settling back against the cushions, I listen to the television drone on as my eyelids get heavier.
The grumbling of my stomach wakes me. Stretching, I notice I’ve slept for two hours. My life revolves around watching TV, sleeping, and snacking. I always seem to be munching on something, my stomach never full. For the first week, I wanted nothing to do with food, but as soon as I started moving around, it came back with a vengeance. With a Dr. Pepper and a bag of Doritos in hand, I resume watching the mindless nothing that is daytime television. Absently nibbling on the cheesy goodness, my mind drifts to Jason coming over tonight. What the hell am I going to tell him? The truth? Hell, I can barely think about it much less talk about it. I could try to just stick to the story of the car accident, but that wouldn’t explain why I don’t want Kristen and Camryn to know I’m back. They’re my best friends, and they would have known about the accident and me moving back. Not this secrecy stuff. But how the hell do I tell a guy I was crushing on at one time I’m weak? That I didn’t fight back? That I stayed with a guy who treated me like a punching bag? That when I did try to get away, he almost killed me? Wetness drops onto my arm. Once started, the flood gates are open. Great big, gut-wrenching sobs come over me, until there’s nothing left. Bracing my ribs against the pain, I try to catch my breath. I tentatively get myself up and head to my bedroom where the bottle of pain pills is in the drawer of my bedside table. I haven’t had to take any in the last few days, but I need one now. Swallowing one of the potent white pills, I lie down on the bed and wait for it to kick in.
Pounding on the door drags me from slumber as I try to pull myself up. The pills make me woozy, and I detest them, but they do get rid of the pain. The pounding comes again. The clock reads five minutes after seven. Gingerly getting off the bed, I realize the pain in my ribs has lessened considerably. As soon as I reach the door, a glance through the peephole shows Jason there. The relief sweeps through, making me lightheaded, weak in the knees, causing me to sag against the door. With a determined look on his face, he raises his fist to knock again.
“Hold on a second.” He lowers his hand, a look of relief on his face as I begin to unlock the three different locks on the door beside the chain. I finally get it open and see him leaning against the doorframe. Moving back so he can come in, I smile shyly at him. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself. I was worried you weren’t going to answer.” He comes through the door carrying a sack with a delicious aroma wafting from it. Mexican food.
“Sorry. I was asleep.” Following him to the table, he sets the bag down and starts taking out Styrofoam containers and placing them on the table. Skirting around him, I reach into the cabinet for some plates and silverware. “Would you like something to drink?”
“I brought some beer,” he replies, the glass bottles clinking as they hit the table top.
“Oh, okay,” I say, taking way longer than necessary to get the single plate while searching for the courage to face him. I’m sure I look like hell—rat’s nest hair, red, puffy eyes…and my fingers itch to reach for the hem of my shirt, praying it covers my ass.
“Now, do you want to tell me what had you crying earlier?” I stiffen at his words, though I should have known he noticed. He was always very observant.
“Not really.”
“If it has anything to do with what’s going on, I think you will. And I want the truth, Mallory. Not the car accident story I heard from the other lady.” I duck my head in an attempt to buy time, struggling to find something to say.
“Donna,” I blurt out, then turn with the plates and forks, stepping toward him.
“Huh?” he asks, his brow furrowed as he takes them from my hands.
“Her name’s Donna. She was my boss in Colorado Springs.”
“It was nice of her to come all the way down here with you.”
“She’s helpful like that. She helps a lot of people.”
“Go sit on the couch and get comfortable,” his gruff voice orders, leaving no room for arguing. “Get off that foot. I’ll bring you a plate.”
I do as he says, trying to keep my limping to a minimum, but the heavy, black walking boot makes it impossible. The overflowing plate is moved into my line of sight, his hand large and dark against the whiteness. Our hands touch, and I soak up his warmth in the brief contact
“Thank you. It smells great. I haven’t had really good Mexican food in forever.” We eat in silence, the droning of the TV in the background. Feeling stuffed, I lean back against the cushions, plate in my lap. The beer’s helping me relax. Trying to place my plate on the table, made difficult with my leg propped up, I catch movement out the corner of my eye. He reaches toward me, and I flinch back. Getting myself under control, I hand the plate to him, my hands trembling. Placing it on the table, he takes a deep breath, and I turn away, embarrassed by my actions. After a few tense moments, I glance at him out the corner of my eye. His muscular forearms rest on his strong thighs, tense, the muscles straining as he grips his knees until his knuckles whiten, his eyes trained on the floor. As if he can sense me staring, he looks up, and I turn away once more.
“Okay, Mal. What the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know where to start.”
“Start at the beginning. I know you moved to Colorado after your dad died.”
At the mention of my dad, tears well in my eyes. The hurt from missing him makes my heart ache. A tear rolls down my cheek, and I swipe it away. “I was lost after my dad died. Being here hurt too damn much. And I needed to get away from the pain.” I pause to swallow the lump in my throat, the pain rising in my chest. “Todd had been offered a position in Colorado and wanted me to move there with him.”
“That was kinda fast. You guys had only been together a couple months at that point, right?”
“Yeah. He was moving much faster than I was ready for. The only thing really holding me back was my dad, you know. We are—were, the only family we had. When he died, there was nothing left here. Todd kind of just took charge afterwards, and I fell in line.”
“I knew you took it hard after your dad died. I’m sorry for your loss, by the way. I thought you were in love with Todd, that’s why you decided to go.”
“I don’t know what I felt. For the first few months, I was just numb. By the time I started coming out if it, I decided to make a go of it there. Todd took very good care of me. Brought me out of my funk. I found a job at the hospital and started working in the emergency room. Todd liked his job. We were having a lot of fun together. For a while, everything was fine.”
“So, what happened?”
Grabbing my beer, I take a long drink, finishing it off. “After a while, he started nit picking everything I did. He was promoted at work, which meant more responsibility, more hours, more stress. He started going out the with guys a few nights a week to a local bar. Then, it became every night. He wouldn’t come home until after I had been home for hours, then started questioning me working so much. If I came in late, he’d accuse me of seeing someone at the hospital. I just blew it off. I loved my job, and I was learning so much. My mind was so full, I didn’t have time to dwell on missing my dad or Kristen and Camryn.” I swallow, wishing I had something harder to drink. “One night, I came in an hour later than normal. My replacement was late. When I got home, Todd was there, which was unusual since he never made it home before nine, and that’s at the earliest…and never had I seen him so angry. As soon as I hit the door, he was screaming at me, wanting to know why I was late. I could tell he was drunk. It was the first time I was afraid of him.”
“And the first time he hit you?”
“He was drunk again. I said something sarcastic.” At his snort, a smile crosses my face. “I know, right? Me, sarcastic? Anyway, he backhanded me across the face, and we both just stared at each other before I ran up the stairs.”
“Fucking bastard.”
“His way of apologizing was a candy bar and going off with his brother for the weekend.”
“Why did you stay after he hit you the first time?”
“Truthfully, I don’t know. I loved him, but I wasn’t in love with him. I still haven’t figured that out. But I stayed even after things got really bad.”
“How bad did it get?” The tone in his voice has me glancing over at him. He clenches his jaw, the vein in his forehead throbbing. His hands have moved to the arms of the chair, and I wonder if he’s going to rip them off with the force of his grip.
“Really bad. It didn’t get that way until a few months ago. He came home, drunk as usual. I don’t know what set him off, but he punched me. I was stunned, then he practically threw me across the room. Cracked my wrist and gave me a black eye.” I rotate my wrist, the phantom pain still real. “Kicked me in the ribs while I was on the floor. I ended up with a concussion when my head bounced off the tile floor.” Running my hand over the area, I can still feel the raised scar on my skull. When I glance at Jason, the anger pouring off him is nearly tangible.