Page 108 of Anything To Be With You

"It's Dani." I whisper.

“Hey girl, how are ya?”

"I'm not doing so hot. Something happened last night and Archer had mentioned that I should give you a call."

"What happened?" Concern fills her sweet voice.

I fill Elle in on what transpired between me and Josh Friday night, trying—and failing—to keep the tears back. The line is silent when I finish and I begin to panic. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. What if Elle doesn't want to help me? She hardly knows me.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called—"

"No, no. It's okay. I was just caught off guard, I had no idea you've been in my shoes." She sniffles.

It clicks then why Luke said to call Elle. I thought it was because she was a therapist with experience in abuse. I didn't realize that she had first hand experience.

"If it's going to be too much—" I trail off.

"It's okay, really. It’s good to get it out. Helps with the healing process. If you'd like, I can share my story."

I bite my lip. "Only if you're comfortable." In a way, I'd like to hear about what Elle went through and how she healed herself from the trauma.

"I don't mind, honestly." Elle takes a deep breath and begins. "My father was a horrible man; used his fists and his words to show 'love.' He raised my brothers the same way. The beatings started when I was eight and got worse the older I got. The final one happened when I was caught trying to move out at eighteen. He said the only way I was leaving his family was in a body bag.

"It lasted three days and my brothers helped. I don’t know how I managed to make it to the hospital but I remember collapsing inside the ER doors. I never saw them again after that."

I wipe my eyes. How can a father do that to his child? I know there are some horrible parents out there and I thank my lucky stars every night that my parents are amazing people.

"Can I ask what happened when you woke up?" I ask, sniffling.

Elle's face pops up on the screen and I hit video chat. "It's easier to show you, " she smiles weakly, her eyes red and cheeks stained with tears. "They broke my spine, neck and jaw," she turns, pointing to the scar running down her back and another along her jaw. "My teeth aren’t real," she reaches into her mouth and pops her top teeth out. "Fucking dentures at eighteen years old." She slurs, popping her teeth back in.

"It took three surgeries to fix the damage and I had to wear a halo for close to a year." Elle brushes her bangs away from her forehead, pointing to the tiny star-shaped scars around her head. "My jaw was wired shut and I couldn’t eat solid food for six months."

My beatings were no where near as bad as Elle’s and here I am, wallowing about what happened to me.

"I don't mean for this to sound rude, but where was your mom while this was happening?" I ask gently.

"It's not rude. She died when I was three. I was told when I was nine that it was an accidental fall, but I always believed my father had a hand in it."

"I'm so, so sorry your family did that to you." I whisper, tears clinging to my lashes as I blink.

"I'm so, so sorry your boyfriend did that to you, too." Elle wipes her cheeks, but smiles. "We both went through horrible situations and made it out alive. We might not be over what they did but we survived."

We did survive, but there are still days where I think I deserved what happened to me and brought on the abuse myself through my words and actions.

"I’m going to tell you something that no one knows about. Not even CeCe." Elle confesses. "What happened to me was over seventeen years ago, but sometimes," she takes a deep breath, "sometimes I can still feel their hands on my skin. The anger in every hit, every punch."

"How’d you get through it?"

Elle smiles. "Dr. Walters helped me. She still does. I think you’d benefit from her help. She’s been in our shoes; she knows when to listen and when to give advice. She will not push you to talk but she will ask questions that might make you uncomfortable."

I tap my fingers on my thigh. "Could I get her number? I've been thinking about talking with someone again."

"Absolutely! I'll text it to you. What's your number?"

I ramble off my cell number and here it ding from its place on the nightstand.

"Thanks for talking with me Elle, even if you did most of the talking." I say.

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