STACY

As I unlock the apartment that I share with a man who threatened my life, my spirit is weak against hope.

I heard what Tonk said back there.

But there is no way out of here.

If I try to leave, Vic will stop me.

He covets hate and scarcity in his heart.

Ever since I was a little girl I hoped I would find someone who would love me until the end. I think all little girls want that ideal. We want to be princesses and find our princes, or princesses. It is absolutely without a doubt the most wonderful fantasy to nurture, to be with someone who has your back through everything, who creates and shares all the best memories with you so that you can enjoy them that much more. And it should be a reality, if only so many variables weren’t involved when real life comes into play.

None of our fantasies include being threatened or injured by our prince or princess. None of us is dreaming of our self-esteem wilting into nothing until we are crushed and no longer believe we are lovable.

No little girl has that dream.

There is so much beauty in the world yet I can no longer see it. Even when I look at my daughter I feel only anxiety for a future filled with pain.

What example can I give her, living with a man like him? How do I explain that her father isn’t capable of love? His heart is a shriveled raisin, honey, don’t take the way he talks to Mommy personally. He can’t help it. He’s a hateful person, but you still go ahead and find a good man or woman to love. It’s possible, I swear. Don’t use us as an example, even though we are your biggest one.

How do you tell your daughter to stay away from Daddy?

Wiping my eyes, I set Celia down to change her diaper, remembering how I used to have such potential. A college degree would have given me the key to a life where money would have been a tool rather than a ball and chain. I don’t have any. He made sure of that.

I don’t want to bring Tonk into this. He’s so sweet and I’m afraid Vic would hurt him. The thought makes me want to die. He’s so kind and good. I’ve never felt such a desire to be close to anyone, and I’m hoping it’s not because I am reaching for a way out. I don’t want to use a man like Tonk. He’s so…

Stop thinking about him.

It’s not an option.

He would get hurt.

If I were to try to escape to my parents’s house, would Vic follow?

Would they make me go back to him? Would they hear me when I cried? Would I be too ashamed to, when they reminded me that a daughter needs a father?

Tossing the diaper and the wipes, I clean my hands and lift her, cuddling her close as I lower myself into a chair and whisper, “Come on, Celia, please try to eat the way he wants us to. He’s on his way home. Let’s make him happy.” I offer a swollen nipple to my stubborn baby. She bites me a few times but won’t latch on. “He’s going to be home soon. You’re hungry. Please don’t make me get the bottle. I can’t risk it!”

She starts to cry, slapping my breast with her tiny hand. I murmur pleas while manipulating my skin against her open mouth.

It’s no use.

She won’t drink.

My heart races as I carry her to the kitchen, open the refrigerator, and push items out of the way. Opening the canister, I hear his key in the lock and shove it back, pushing mayonnaise, orange juice and broccoli back in front of it.

I hastily shut the door and bounce her in hopes that she’ll quiet. He appears in the doorway and jerks his chin up to ask, “What's her problem?”

“She won’t eat. I’ve been trying to feed her, but she won’t latch on.”

“What kind of mother are you?” He lumbers into the kitchen, passes us to open the refrigerator. “Why aren’t you able to feed your man or your baby? What the fuck is wrong with you?” He slams the door shut and I back up, hugging her to my chest even as she cries. The sound is growing more desperate as she senses my fear.

“Vic, I might need to get some formula and a bottle from the store to help her. If she won’t eat…”

“You’re not giving that shit to my child!”

“But she’s crying! She’s hungry!”

Vic lunges for us. I step back and hit the wall. He pulls my shirt down and yanks my breast free, pressing my nipple into our screaming daughter’s mouth. “Stop fucking crying, Celia! Eat!”

Fear knifes through my blood as I sway, dizzy, and urge her, “Please Celia, please honey.”

Vic shouts at her, “Shut the fuck up!”

A knock at the front door surpasses his volume, three loud bangs and then, “Police! Open up!”

My eyes dart toward the sound, but there’s no hope in me. I wouldn’t be surprised if Vic ignored them until it was too late.

Rage slices across his eyes. ”You called the cops?”

Shaking my head I reassure him, “I swear I didn’t. How could I have done that? You’ve seen me the entire time you’ve been here. You just walked in.”

The knock crashes against the door again. “Open the door now!”

Celia cries between us. She hasn’t stopped. Victor sticks his finger in my face while using his free hand to shove my breast back into my bra. “You better keep your mouth shut, Stacy.”

The knocks keep coming as Vic storms into the other room to answer it. He shakes out his shoulders and adopts the expression of a normal human being. It’s believable and disgusting.

He swings it open while I peek out from the kitchen. Our daughter won’t stop screaming. From this vantage point I can’t see who’s on the other side, but when I hear the familiar voice my heart quickens. “If she’s hurt, I’ll kill you.”

Under my breath I moan, “No!”

Tonk snarls, “Why don't you step inside the apartment and make this really easy for both of us?”

I'm shocked to see Victor’s feet moving backwards and it isn’t until I see the head of a gun come into view that I understand why.

Tonk closes the door, and flicks a glance my way. In an instant he sees the stress I’m under but for some reason his face does not move. He is in a state of otherworldly calm. “Stacy, come stand behind me.”

Vic cuts a hate-filled glance my way. Celia won’t quiet, she hiccups with sobs. The tension is so thick my legs feel heavy as I start to walk.

My baby’s daddy hisses, “You’re not going anywhere. Who the fuck is this guy? You cheating on me?”

He lunges for my legs. A shot rings out and echoes off the walls and in my ears. I can’t hear anything but my heartbeat. Tonk kicks Victor out of the way as he falls, grabbing his thigh, blood oozing from his jeans.

Tonk rushes over to us and I scream his name as Vic wraps a strong and driven hand around his calf. Tonk twists his body and punches Victor in the nose with the butt of the gun, cracking the bone. Vic’s eyes roll back in his head and he falls back, unconscious.

Speechless, my ears ringing, I stare at the heap as Tonk urges me, his voice loud because his hearing is compromised, too. “Get your purse. Get anything you need. But get it quickly.”

His gentle fingers touch Celia’s head before I hurry into the bedroom. In a matter of moments I’ve swiped up a few of her pants and shirts, her pink blanket, my bag.

In the living room I find Tonk pointing the gun at Victor’s unconscious face. He motions for me to walk behind him so that I’m safe. With shallow breaths and my daughter red-faced and hiccuping, I walk into the sunlight of a beautiful spring day.

My head is foggy.

I’m on autopilot.

Every cell in my body tingles.

With fear.

With excitement.

With hope.

Tonk shuts the door and there is no sign of his gun as he strolls casually up to us, placing his comforting hand on my lower back as he whispers, “Act normal.”