Page 23 of Healing Love

A darker thought takes over my mind, making me stop in my tracks. She finally realized I’m not good enough.

But, no. That’s not the Brielle I’ve fallen in love with these last few weeks. She’s always been supportive and we’ve shared so many vulnerable parts of our lives. She wouldn’t just leave without at least talking to me.

I pull out my phone to call her, then realize like the idiot I am that I don’t have her number. I have her office phone, which isn’t helpful right now. Good thing I know where she lives. I get a sinking feeling in my gut, wondering what pulled her away from work.

Whatever it is, I’m ready to fight for my sunshine and bring her back up the mountain with me.

8

BRIELLE

Iknew something was wrong the moment I stepped inside my office. I was still floating in the clouds after my weekend with Elliot, which is why my defenses were down. Otherwise, I would have sensed my mother from a mile away.

Something sharp hits me on the side of my head, and I turn in that direction, flinching when I see my mother’s drug-dealer-slash-fuck-buddy crush an empty beer can in his hand and launch it toward me. I lean to the side as much as I can while being tied to a dining room chair, narrowly escaping another cut on my head. The can crashes to the floor along with another one, which I’m guessing is what hit me in the head in the first place.

I whimper and close my eyes, my mind flashing back to this morning when my mother was waiting for me in my office. She called me every name in the book, from whore to selfish cunt. Yes, my own mother called me a cunt. If that’s not crossing a boundary, I don’t know what is.

“I was talkin’ to you,” the man says, his speech slurred. “What’s the PIN number to your debit card?”

“Why?” I ask weakly.

“Why do you think? Your mom and I need money and she said you’re the only one with a steady paycheck.”

I’m not sure how long I’ve been tied up to the chair in the library of my mom’s house, but I know it’s been hours. I’m hungry and thirsty, but more importantly, I have to pee.

I never should have gone with my mom, but she caught me by surprise, and then her barrage of insults crushed whatever hope I had for a relationship with her. She threatened to tell my boss about a certain client I’ve been sleeping with. I have no idea how she figured that out or if she’d actually do it, but the threat was enough in that moment to make me crumble and follow her out to her car.

“Are you stupid?” the man yells. “I’m asking a very simple question.”

“I have to use the bathroom,” I tell him. “Then I’ll tell you the PIN. I don’t want trouble, but I can’t concentrate when I have to go so bad.”

He growls out something about how difficult I'm being, then walks over to me and cuts the ropes from my feet. "Keep the ones on your hands," he instructs me.

“Um… yeah, that’s not going to work. I kind of need my hands to… you know.”

He sighs exasperatedly, then calls out for my mom. When she doesn’t answer right away, he screams her name over and over until she rushes into the room.

“Did you get the number?” she asks, not even bothering to look at me. Is that really all she cares about? Yes. Yes, it is. I’ve seen my mom go from bad to worse to completely irredeemable, so this fits right in with how she’s been treating me lately.

“No, she says she needs to go to the bathroom before she’ll tell me.”

“You selfish bitch!” my mother spits out at me. The vitriol behind her words is something new. I take a closer look at the woman who raised me, noticing how twitchy she is and how she keeps scratching the same spot on her arm. What has she been taking? This certainly isn’t Vicodin or alcohol.

I realize with a heavy heart that my mom is on meth. So is her dealer or boyfriend or whatever he is to her. I see pockmarks on his face and notice for the first time how many of his teeth are either rotten or missing.

“I just have to pee,” I tell her in a soft voice, not wanting to anger her. I’m not sure what these two are capable of with the mix of drugs they’re on. “Unless you want me to ruin the chair and the carpet in the next thirty seconds–”

“Fine,” she huffs out, loosening the ties around my wrists and dragging me up from my seat. Her hand wraps around my upper arm in a tight grip as she pulls me through the house and shoves me into the nearest bathroom. “And don’t try anything stupid. I’ll be right outside the door.”

I don’t say anything, I just shut the door in her face. I have no idea how much time I have, I just needed some space to think. I really do have to pee, so I take advantage of the bathroom break while I plot my escape. There’s a window in here, but it’s too small for me to fit through.

I briefly wonder if I can lock myself in here, but quickly come to the conclusion that the two of them would kick down the door easily, especially when they’re all hopped up the way they are now. Maybe I can do the opposite and rush out of the bathroom, past my mom, and out through the front door. I don’t know what I’m going to do after I get outside, since I still don’t have a car, but maybe I could make it to the neighbor’s house to call the cops.

After flushing and washing my hands, I take a deep breath and psych myself up for my great escape. Wrapping my hand around the doorknob, I picture myself running, running, running, right out the door and across the wide expanse of our property to get to safety.

Right as I yank the bathroom door open, a loud and insistent pounding sounds from the front double doors.

“What the–”

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