Jason
All I see is red, and it takes everything in me not to punch a fucking hole in the wall as she recounts what that bastard did to her. How in the fucking world can someone do that to another person—especially someone they care about? I always knew there was something about that little fucker I never liked, but I had no idea he liked to hit women. Women are to be protected and cherished. Not abused. Especially someone as small as Mallory. Just picturing him putting his hands on her... The chair creaks, and I relax my grip before I break the arms off the damn thing. Standing up, I begin to pace the short area between the door and kitchen.
That bastard better be glad there are a few states between us, because all bets are off if I see him again. It crushes me to see how hard this is for her to talk about, sitting there clutching her hands to control her trembling. Imagining what it all felt like, to be helpless against a bigger person, makes me want to scream. To be at the mercy of someone you love. When this happened to my sister, it was hard for her to tell anyone what was happening. She said she felt ashamed for letting it happen—for letting it continue after the first time he hit her. It’s a total mind fuck. These guys don’t just use their hands to hurt; they use their minds to control.
All I want to do right now is wrap her up and hug her. Tell her everything is going to be all right. But I doubt she would welcome that right now. Making my way to the couch, I keep my movements slow so she doesn’t get startled. Her head is resting in her hands, and I place my hand on her upper back. At the contact, she stiffens, but then relaxes. I run my hand up and down her back, trying to soothe her.
“Mal…”
Turning her head toward me, the desolation in her gaze rips me apart. Tears gather and roll down her cheeks, leaving behind shiny trails before the drops drip off her chin.
“I don’t know why I stayed. I’m weak. I always thought I was so strong, that women who stay with their abusers are crazy. Why wouldn’t they just leave? What could make them stay? Then, I became one of those women. I became a weak woman who let a man dictate my life. I let a man hurt me when he felt like it and didn’t fight back. Why would I do that?” The shame on her face and anguish in her voice eats away at me.
“You’re not weak, Mal. You got out. You’re here now—with people who love, protect, and support you. You just have to let us.” She gives a watery laugh.
“The only reason I’m out is because of Donna. After he had beaten me and…” she talks a deep breath, “did what he did, she stayed on my case. I had to miss nearly a week of work. I told them I had been in a skiing accident. She knew the signs. One day she confronted me in the locker room. After that, she talked to me every day I was at work. Not to pressure me, but to let me know she was there when I was ready.” Reaching forward, she grabs my half full bottle of beer and downs it before continuing. “When I finally decided enough was enough, we made plans for me to leave. I knew I wanted to come back home. Donna works with an organization in Colorado that helps abuse victims. It’s a group of doctors, lawyers, cops…people from all walks of life. They have a great pool of resources. Donna got me the apartment and furniture. She helped me get a job here. But everything was kept quiet to help me start over without him knowing.”
“What made you decide it was time?”
Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, she gathers her thoughts. “A girl who came into the ER died. She was a frequent flyer who was always having ‘accidents’. Running into the door, falling down the stairs, slipping in the shower...but this time…” A sob escapes her lips, and once it starts, they continue to come, making it hard to understand what she’s saying. I fidget with my hands, wanting to reach out, to comfort her, but I don’t know how she’ll take it. On a deep breath, she tries to continue, only for the tears to strike once more. “This time…he…he beat her to death. She died on the fucking gurney. For no damn reason. She could have left him. She should have left him. If she had, she’d still be alive. Her baby would still be alive.”
“Oh, Mal. I’m so sorry.” My heart squeezes in my chest at the broken girl next to me, the one trying her damnedest to hold herself together. Unable to resist any longer, I wrap my arm around her, and when she doesn’t flinch away, I pull her to me until her head is resting on my chest. Her tears soak my shirt as she continues to cry.
“I hate to say it, but it won’t be hard for him to figure out where you went. He knows this is your home, and that your friends are here.”
“I guess I just hoped if I wasn’t there, he wouldn’t think about me again. Donna said they had a plan in place to throw him off. She didn’t go into any details, though. Anyway, we finally got the break we needed for me to leave without having to confront him. He was going on a trip with his brother, and Donna came over to help me get everything ready to go. When she left to ship some of my belongings here, Todd came home. I thought I had seen him mad before, but it had nothing on how he was when he realized I was leaving. The look of rage that came over his face, just standing there opening and closing his fists like he couldn’t wait to get his hands on me…” She shudders against me. “For the first time, I was terrified that was going to be it. The end. He was going to kill me. He stalked forward and I was just frozen. I saw the first hit coming and ducked out of the way, but he didn’t miss the second time. It must have been a doozy because that’s the last thing I remember.”
Squeezing her tighter against me, I focus on keeping my breathing even, tamping down the anger. The last thing I want is for her to be scared of me.
“And I honestly believed he did—wanted me to die, that is. He just left me there on the floor, bleeding. How could he do that? Just leave me there like trash?”
“I don’t know, Mal. I just don’t know.”
“He didn’t know Donna was helping. She came back to take me to the airport, found me, and immediately got me to the hospital. I was there for a few days before the doctor thought it would be less risky for me to fly. He bought me and Donna upgraded tickets to keep me as comfortable as possible. Then they loaded me up with pain meds. We flew back here. By the time we made it to the apartment, I was bad off. That’s when you saw us at the bottom of the stairs.”
“You knew it was me?”
“I recognized your voice. I didn’t want you to know it was me, though.”
“Why not? I could have helped. Has he tried to make any contact?”
“God, I hope not,” she gasps, her breathing becoming frantic as her eyes dart back and forth over the furniture. “I don’t know what I’d do if…”
“Deep breaths,” I coax, doing my best to bring her back from the brink. “I’m here. He won’t ever get to you. He’ll have to go through me first.” Leaning into me, she rests her head on my shoulder. I wrap my arm around her and lightly give her a squeeze. I kiss the top of her head and smell the citrus scent of her shampoo. “You’re safe here.”
“Thank you.”
“How about we watch a movie?” She nods, and I reach for the remote, making sure to keep her by my side. It just feels right having her so close to me. Finding Fast Five, then settling back, I pull her farther into me.
Waking up a little later with a crick in my neck, I rotate my head to relieve the stiffness and feel movement against my side. Looking down, my dark-haired girl is curled up next to me. We must have fallen asleep. I want to keep her tucked against me, but I know she can’t be comfortable and needs to stretch out. If she doesn’t, I bet her ribs will be bothering her in the morning. With caution, I move out from under her without waking her up, pick her up, and cradle her in my arms. She feels so small against me, so breakable. But knowing what she’s been through, she’s anything but fragile. She may not know it, but she’s strong—stronger than she can imagine. And I vow to be the one to make her realize it.
Trying my best not to jostle her, I move toward the bedroom. Figuring out how to pull the covers back and lay her on the bed without waking her up is going to be a challenge. Feeling her slight movement against me, I glance down to see her beautiful gray eyes looking up at me.
“We fell asleep. I was trying to put you in bed so you would be more comfortable. I didn’t want your ribs bothering you tomorrow,” I whisper.
“Thank you. You can put me down.” Lowering her to the ground, I make sure she’s steady before I remove my arm from her shoulder. Reaching down, I pull back the covers, and she crawls into the bed. As soon as she settles back on the pillows, I draw the comforter over her.
“Do you need anything?” She bites her lower lip. “What do you need?”
“Could you bring me the bottle of Advil PM from the bathroom and a glass of water?”
“Sure thing.”
After gathering the items, she gives me a small smile, then swallows them down with a big drink. Taking the glass from her and setting it on the table, she cozies up in the covers and lays her head on the pillow.
“Do you need anything else?” She shakes her head no. Turning to leave the room, I take one step before her soft voice stops me in my tracks.
“Jason?”
“Yeah?” I ask over my shoulder.
“Thank you for tonight. For everything.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I meant it when I said you’ll be safe here. If you need anything, anything at all, you let me know. I’ll see you tomorrow. Sweet dreams.”
Shutting her bedroom door behind me, I make my way back through the living room and flip the lock to secure her apartment before heading to my own.
Once inside, I decide to shower. When the steam pours out, I step inside, letting the water pour over me as I think back to the first time I saw Mallory at the bar—how full of life she was, the clothes that showed off that heart-stopping figure. She was so different from the girl I saw today, and I’m going to do my best to bring her back to the surface. She’ll never be the same, but maybe she can be a little freer with her smiles, and not flinch when someone moves quickly around her, worrying they are going to hit her.
I have always been drawn to her, like a moth to a flame, though I’ve never understood why. She’s beautiful, but I’ve been around dozens of beautiful women, some who have been drop dead gorgeous and would do just about anything to be with me, especially since we’ve been on tour, but none have ever affected me the way she does. I never had the chance to explore anything with her before, but hopefully I will now.
After drying off, I pull on a pair of workout shorts, snatch a beer from the fridge, and grab my phone off the table. Scrolling through, I find my sister’s name in the messages and pull her up.
Me: U up?
I hit send, then toss my phone to the side and twist the cap off the bottle. Bringing it to my lips, I swallow deep, hoping my sister can give me some insight on how to help Mallory. She’s been through this before, and came out stronger in the end. Her fight is something I’ve always admired. My phone pings.
Jess: Haven’t crashed yet. What’s up, lil bro?
I hit the call button. There’s too much to explain in a text. She picks up on the second ring.
“Must be something important if you’re calling me.” Hearing rustling on the other end of the line, she seems to be settling in for the night.
“It is. I need your advice. As a counselor and a survivor,” I say, easing into the conversation.
“What’s going on?”
Taking a deep breath, I explain everything I know about what Mallory went through. As soon as I finish, Jess remains quiet for a few minutes before humming through the line.
“Well,” she starts, pausing again for just another moment. Talking about what happened in her past still isn’t on her list of favorite things to do, but she also has this innate need to help others going through similar situations. It’s why she became a counselor in the first place. Instead of allowing her circumstances to fester and eat her alive, she focuses her energy into using her own experiences and how she overcame them as a catalyst. “If she just got out of this relationship, her emotional state will be all over the place. It’s still fresh, so she hasn’t been able to go through the entire process yet, and she’s nowhere near acceptance. Honestly, she won’t even understand herself through a lot of the emotions she’s going to be dealing with. She’ll feel crazy, sad, angry, grief, stress, guilty. It may also take her a while to fully open up to people, but she needs a support group—friends and family she can rely on and feel a connection with. People she knows she can go to when everything just becomes too much for her to handle on her own.”
“I don’t think she has any family,” I say, pondering her words. “Her dad died right before she moved to Colorado, and I believe her mom died a few years before that. Her friends don’t know she’s back yet. She doesn’t want them to know yet.”
“That’s probably how he wormed his way in. Abusers will take advantage of emotional instability. Make themselves indispensable to their victim. Make them dependent. It’s harder for them to leave that way. Most abusers are masters at manipulation and intimidation. She needs to find someone to talk to.”
“She can talk to me.”
“I mean professionally. There’s a difference between talking to a friend and someone who is trained for this. With a friend, the victim is going to leave out certain details—things they think will be too much for the friend to handle.”
“You think it was worse than she said?”
“Absolutely. She needs to let it all out. Talk to someone who won’t judge her. She needs to feel like she has some control in her life.”
“Is there anyone you can recommend? I wish you were closer so she could talk to you. I know you would make her feel comfortable enough to open up.”
“You care about this girl, don’t you? I can tell by your voice.”
“Yes. Yes, I do.” Leaning back, I sip at the beer in my hand.
“Jase…”
“I’m not going to push for anything.”
“You’re a fixer, but you can’t fix this for her.”
“I wish I could. That would be too easy.”
“I know one therapist up there. I’ll call her in the morning and see if she’s available or can recommend someone else. You must realize, Jason, this must be her decision. You can’t force her to do anything. Just be patient with her and supportive.” Her warning tone comes through loud and clear.
I release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “I’ll do my best. Thanks, sis. For listening and the advice. Give my niece a kiss for me. I miss seeing y’all.”
“We miss you too. We need to come for a visit soon.”
Hanging up the phone, I run a hand over my face. I need a way to convince Mallory to see a therapist without seeming like a pushy bastard. Maybe if I can get Donna’s number, see if she has any advice…
She’s been with Mallory through this whole ordeal. It’s the beginning of a plan.