Page 2 of Hunter's Trial

But tonight, instead of leaving me on the ground he starts down the hallway.

I only endure this for her. A girl needs her dad. I sure did growing up. But this? My dad would have never laid a hand on me. I never knew if that was because he wasn’t that sort of man, or if it was because my mother was in the same situation as me but just dealt with it better.

I can’t let him get to Liz.

I would rather die.

I lunge forward, my hands catching the pants leg of his jeans and holding on with everything that I have. He starts to drag me along with him, scraping my body against the carpet as the buttons on my blouse catch and rip open from the friction - I’m going to be covered in carpet burn in the worst of places, but I can’t let go. I can’t.

“Bitch!” Billy yells at me as the foot that I’m clinging to catches, and down he goes. He hits the ground so hard I swear that the whole house shakes. But now he’s mad enough at me that he’s going to forget about our girl, who is likely still crying in her room. That’s all that matters. He just needs to leave her alone.

He scrambles over the carpet to me and crawls on top of me. I slap, hit, and bite every inch of him that I can to at least try to be on the offensive. He grabs hold of my wrists so tightly I swear my bones bark in protest as he pins my arms down on the carpet. He bends forward and bites the first bit of exposed flesh that he can get his teeth on - the swell of my breast. Hard enough that I know he broke skin. I know it. Blinding pain sears through me as I buck and kick and scream and cry.

His fist finds my gut, then my ribs. Never the face, of course, not unless he’s really out of his mind. That’s only happened twice. The slap alone is going to be hard enough to cover up for work tomorrow.

All of my breath whooshes out of me in a wheezed rattle and the fight leaves me. How can it not? It’s not like I could actually win against him. He’s more than twice my size. Fighting for oxygen, Billy sits back, trapping me under his weight and making it just that much harder to breathe.

“You done now?” Billy smirks and grasps my jaw in his hand. There will be bruises from his fingertips. I can already feel them forming. “Sometimes I think you must like it when I get rough with you. You know how stupid it is to fight back, dirty bitch.”

I don’t talk back this time. I know it’s pointless now. Besides, Liz is safe in her room, he won’t touch her now.

“Much better. Now, be a good girl and go touch up your makeup. You look fucking revolting.” Billy smirks and lets go of me roughly. He pushes off me, rolling back through his heels until he’s standing over me.

I know better than to try to stand.

Crying silently, I roll through the pain onto my hands and knees, crawling slowly through the agony that’s building in my ribs. I hope he didn’t break anything. I don’t look back over my shoulder, but I can feel him following me.

“Leave the door open,” he commands as I finally reach the sink and to struggle to my feet. He’s right. I’m revolting. My face is swollen and my makeup is ruined. I grab my makeup wipes and clean my face as carefully as I can. Only then do I dare glance at the reflection of the man watching me so intently from the mirror.

How is this my life?

How did I let this happen? Why am I not strong enough to stop him? I can’t keep doing this.

Even as a fresh tear rolls down my face, I push it away with my hands as I start to apply more makeup to cover the damage he’s done.

“See? It’s much better when you know your place, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.” I answer meekly. The adrenaline has left me and all that I’m left with now is exhaustion.

“Hurry up now. I’m starving. What’s for dinner?”

Everything hurts.

More than hurts.

I don’t think I’ve ever had this many bruises before. I think I might need to actually go to a hospital this time. But I don’t have time. Who knows how long he’s going to be asleep. I have to do this now. I can’t let another day like this pass. I can’t. I can’t do it. I could endure it if it meant Liz would grow up with a loving dad, but he hit her too. I can’t let him hit her ever again.

I bite on my lip so hard that it bleeds as I slip from bed to keep from crying. Again, when I pull on the softest pair of sweatpants that I own. I leave my phone. I don’t want him finding me. I take my laptop and slide it into my bag. I pull a loose hoodie over my head and tie my hair up in a messy bun. Only the heirloom jewelry that I entered this marriage with and all the cash that I have saved up. I don’t want to risk trying to take another single fucking thing. It’s going to be hard enough to lift my daughter as it is, when I’m almost positive that he’s broken at least two of my ribs.

I can’t let that stop me now.

I can do this.

In an hour, I’m going to be far, far away from this house of horrors. I can do this. I’m going to be free. Liz won’t grow up thinking that this is okay. I will change that generational curse and I will do better. I swear that I will.

I slip into her room silently, grabbing her shoes and most beloved stuffed animals and shoving them into my purse. I take only a single change of clothes for her to wear tomorrow and stuff that into my purse too. The bag is getting heavy enough that it’s cutting into my shoulders. I bend and scoop her up, still sleeping, blankets and all into my arms. I sway and rock her the best that I can as I silently move through the living room toward the front door.

I jump at shadows and every single sound until I have Liz safely asleep in her car seat in the back of my modest car and slide into the driver’s seat. Moving hurts. I can do this. I can overcome this. I have to. I lock the doors and slowly slide out of the driveway and I don’t breathe again until I’m on the interstate.

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