Chapter Thirteen
Caitlin
I open my eyes as the tickle on my cheek brings me out of sleep and into awareness. I feel his heat and the brush of his knuckle on my cheek as his eyes meet mine. The sun is spilling between us and dust dances in its rays. His features are illuminated, still harsh in the light of morning, but handsome too.
There’s murder in his eyes and a shiver tickles down my spine.
His knuckle traces the outline of the bruise on my cheek and I wonder if I could diffuse his anger. I want to talk him down. But if I’m being honest with myself, I really want to confide. I haven’t talked to anyone in so long. I want to tell him everything. And I want to do it right here, in his arms. This is the one place it feels like the demons can’t find me. I’m safe.
“It was the first time he hit me,” I whisper and his whole body stiffens.
Anger narrows his eyes and I feel my lips curve in wonder at this protective side of him. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “I broke the cycle.”
He seems to relax a little as I say his words back to him. He was right. Carl had seemed so nice at first. Heck, at times, even. He’d be so calm, so sweet. Then he’d… turn. He’d get so pissed, so mad without any warning. He’d fly off the handle for things that seemed so unimportant. A dirty dish in the sink. A night out with friends. A phone call coming in when he wanted my attention.
“Come back to me,” Axl growls.
“I’m right here,” I whisper. “It didn’t happen all at once.” I know it’s not my fault, but I feel the need to justify my own stupidity. I stayed. I could have said no, stood up to him, walked away. But I didn’t. I stayed.
“He was so nice at first,” I say, my mind slipping into memories of the good times. “I think I always felt something was a little off, though.” I recall the cold knot in my stomach the first time I laid eyes on him. I noticed things. Red flags I ignored. I didn’t listen to my gut.
When he’d kissed me, I felt… cold. But I’d stupidly told myself that he was nice. Maybe I’d come to fall for him. Maybe time would change things.
“Then he got mad.” I remember the first time. It seemed like nothing. I got home ten minutes late after work and he asked me if there was anything I needed to tell him. And fear had flowed like ice water in my veins.
I told him no, there wasn’t anything. I got caught up at work. But he’d accused me of fucking around on him. Of being a whore. He’d yelled at me. I’d been scared because there was something so dark and scary in his eyes.
But he’d bounced back. The next day he’d apologized. Told me he hadn’t gotten enough sleep and was on edge because of some big deal at work. He told me he’d make it up to me, take me out on a date, that he loves me and is just so scared of losing me.
And I’d forgiven him.
“He’d kept coming up with reasons we couldn’t go see my parents,” I say, feeling like a total idiot. Saying it out loud makes me realize how incredibly naïve I’d been. No, how stupid I’d been.
His arms tighten around me and I soak in the comfort of his gesture. “It was every time. There’d be some reason. He had a ton of work to catch up on. He wasn’t feeling well. He’d been up late the last night and needed to rest. Always something. And when I’d push it and go anyway, he’d give me the silent treatment or treat me like crap. So eventually I quit going or asking him to go.” It took him about a year to get me to alienate myself from my family and friends. And he’d made me responsible for it. When I’d call him out over it, he’d tell me he never told me I couldn’t go.
And he was right; he never told me I couldn’t go.
It left me conflicted and confused. Was I making it all up? Was I overreacting like he told me I was? Was I being unfair to him and painting him to be some monster he wasn’t?
But things kept getting worse, not better. “I think he knew I was planning on running.” Things had gotten worse in the months leading up to my escape. Finally, the night before I’d fled, he’d called me a whore again. Accused me of cheating on him. And I’d fucked up. I told him I didn’t cheat, I don’t even like sex. That sex doesn’t please me and was something to just… get through.
I guess he took that as a personal assault – and maybe it was.
Because he’d slapped me so hard I fell into the counter.
It was at that moment I knew that if I didn’t get away, he’d kill me. Eventually everything would get worse and worse until he really lost it. And no one would even notice I was gone. After all, I’d spent the last year pushing everyone away and shutting everyone out of my life. How hard would it be for him to simply text my parents like I do on their birthdays and major holidays?
“After he hit me, I knew it was time to go. So I did.” I realize I’m trembling and he’s stroking my hair. After a moment, he reaches past me and grabs something. He pushes his phone into my hands and I notice the number already typed in and waiting for me to hit the green phone.
It’s my mom’s number.
“Call her,” he says, rolling over and sitting up on the edge of the bed.
He pulls his boxers on and stands up while I sit up, pull my knees to my chest and stare at the phone in my hand. What do I say? What do I tell the woman I turned my back on and shut out of my life for some man? Not even a good man, a cruel, evil one.
“Just say hello,” he says and I realize I must have asked him what to say.
“It can’t be that easy,” I protest. Can it?
“Why not?” he asks, staring down at me as I hold the phone in trembling hands.
I glance up at him, struck. Maybe he’s right. Maybe all I have to say is hello. After all, I’ve been living one day at a time. Why can’t I speak to her one word at a time? I touch the green phone icon and hold the phone to my ear.
It rings and I stare up at Axl, terror washing over me. What if she doesn’t answer?
“Hello?” she sounds… older. Tired.
“Mom?”
“Cait?” She sounds like she can’t believe her ears and I feel twin tears stream down my cheeks.
“It’s me, mom, hi,” I say, a little laugh breaking from me even as tears roll down my cheeks. The bed shifts as Axl climbs in next to me and wraps his arms around my shoulders.
“Are you okay?” Mom asks, sounding like she still can’t believe her ears.
“I am, yeah,” I say, sniffling. “Or I will be. How are you?” I ask. “I’ve missed you,” I say, looking up at Axl, who’s got a smile on his face. He kisses the tip of my nose and backs off the bed.
“I’ve missed you too,” Mom says, joy lighting up her tone as she calls to my father on the other end of the line. I watch Axl disappear into the bathroom, smiling through my tears as I hear dad shout in excitement and disbelief. “It’s Cait! She’s okay.”
I’m better than okay.