Page 7 of Four Times Taken

Eleven Years Ago

To know nothing but darkness is to adapt, become darkness itself. To stumble across light and be thrown back into the shadows is to chase and track down that light again. My chase led me to Marco. It led me to drugs.

Clap! The echo rang through my ear and set off an alarm in my brain. My teeth crashed down on top of each other. The side of my cheek stung from the impact.

The first day we met stands out in my mind. A few months ago, after high school, seeking something other than the hell I called home, I was working at a grocery when Marco stumbled in.

Before Eric, the sight of a man was repulsive to me. I couldn't muster up attraction when all I saw was the devil when I looked at them. After Eric, however, I had hope. I sought out what we shared, seeking the answer to my abandonment. I thought I found it in Marco. He was good looking, soft spoken (which I interpreted as non-threatening, my mistake), and he liked me. His persistence reminded me of Eric. He also made me laugh, like he did. The heavens had opened up, shining down on me once again, and this time, I wouldn't wait too long to seal the deal.

Everything about him that I fell for wasted away in two months after moving into his place on my seventeenth birthday. His true colors emerged: his drinking, his drugs, his verbal aggression, his possessiveness, and his physical aggression, until I was left wondering how on earth I ended up in the same position as my mother.

Taking drugs to cope with the pain, staying out late, afraid to come home, wondering which mood he'll be in when I do, wondering why I haven't just left and falling for him all over again when he apologizes and helps me take care of the bruises, are all the things I've seen my mother do.

My head whipped around to regard him with eyes on fire. Tears stung my eyes, and my belly rumbled with disgust for myself. As hard as it was to convince myself that I'm not my mother, I set out to prove it, balling my fists up and throwing punches. I had to survive a violent household; it was imperative to learn how to fight.

By the end of it, he's bleeding from the nose, both from my punches and the coke he sniffed earlier. My left eye was swollen shut, and my bottom lip was split. With tears streaming down my face, I locked myself in the bathroom, filling the tub up with water and settling my sore body inside its warmth. On the side of the dingy tub was my own line of coke. I needed it to hit harder than Marco did. It didn't. Leaning my head back on the tiled wall behind me, I remembered my first and last kiss shared with Eric.

I promised myself I wouldn't do this. It'd been a year; he had my number, and he hadn't contacted me. Making excuses for him, I decided that he might not have called because he's not doing well. My heart raced at the thought that something happened to him while I was holding grudges. I searched for him on social media to put my mind at ease. I just wanted to know he's okay.

My delusions shattered. He's more than okay. For the past year, the little shit had been living his life to the fullest, forgetting all about me. I looked at the photos of him and his friends, surfing and traveling. He linked a video, and I clicked on it to watch as he introduced his girlfriend to the world. They'd been dating just about as long as I'd been dating Marco. Six months.

I threw my phone across the tiny bathroom and watched it shatter as it dawned on me that Eric didn't care about me at all. He was just the great pretender. A better fake than Marco who couldn't pretend longer than two months. Eric continued his charade for two fucking years. The illusion broke apart, along with my phone. It's time I took his ass off that damn pedestal. The pedestal that made me believe in something that wasn't real.

This light I'd been chasing didn't exist. Unless I left, I'd be stuck in a never-ending loop, just like my mother. I better get out before it's too late. Like having a kid with him or something. Breathing fire, I exited the tub soaking wet and opened the bathroom door, which had a hole in it. I'd been asleep for too long, but my eyes were open now.

Marco was out. My guess was he's meeting with his dealer or something. I didn't care. I'd never had this much clarity as I threw my shit in a plastic bag before checking in at the Women's Center, suggested to me by my coworker. I didn't know what tomorrow's going to look like, but right now, it's clear to me that all men are trash, and I'll be happy if I never have to interact with another one again in my entire life.

Chapter 1

Lily

"Come on, Mom," I grunted, transferring her from the bed to the wheelchair. She'd soiled herself again. She's only fifty, but she's got a few broken teeth, and her skin droops from the weight she carries around in her mind. When I removed myself from beneath her arm, she kept the arm elevated as if I'm still there.

Wheeling her into the bathroom, I held back tears. Five years ago, I received a call from the hospital detailing her struggle with catatonia. My father gave them my number. She was no longer responsive to his beatings, his verbal assaults, and his methods of manipulation. He was no longer interested in dealing with her. Especially since he found a younger, more gullible model, willing to see the good in him. Heaven help her.

My body was heavy as I got done with cleaning her, cleaning her chair, changing her sheets, getting her dressed, and starting the battle of trying to get her to eat again. That's the moment that broke me, when she refused to chew. My shoulders shook, and my chest heaved as I ran to the bathroom and hovered over the bathroom sink, trying to steady my breathing.

There are some months when she's better than others, when lorazepam helps her respond again, but the house is still the same. Since coming back home, I haven't had time to make any changes. It's surprising how fast five years fly by. A bloodstain, a hole in the wall, a picture of him; even her own mirror reflection triggers her into another episode.

Sure, for all intents and purposes, she's alive. But he's taken her life. And she let him. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I splashed water on my face until they no longer burned my cheeks. She could have left him, just like I left Marco. She could have made better choices, to protect us both. Instead, she gave her life to him, a piece of shit, a savage with no humanity.

My blood boiled as I thought about how happy he's been. Oh, I've heard it. That's one thing about returning to your hometown, everyone's always keeping you up to date about what you've missed. As if I asked. I don't care if he's doing better in his new relationship. I'm pretty sure everyone sees what he wants them to see. They're so easily fooled.

Taking a deep breath and running my hand through my short, blond hair, I pushed past the hot resentment burning a hole through me and reminded myself to focus on my priority, my mother. I tried not to think about her also taking my life and focus on helping her reclaim hers. My eyes were red as I looked at my worn reflection in the stained wall mirror. I'll be okay, I soothed myself.

On my way out of the bathroom, my phone pinged. It's a specific ping, reserved for the ladies of the Women's Center group chat. Pulling it out of my pocket, I unlocked it to find that I'd been invited to Ann Marie's wedding.

Groaning, I put it back in my pocket. She's expecting an excited response, I'm sure, but I needed a moment to gather myself so that I could fake it. It's not that I'm not happy that she's happy. I want her to be happy. These women have become my family in the last eleven years. They've been there between me running back and forth to Marco until I got the courage to leave him for good. They've listened to my stories, and I've heard theirs. We've bonded over going through similar experiences. And I know Anne Marie's been through some shit with men.

This isn't her first marriage. The last one ended when her husband almost killed her. Now, I'm supposed to be happy she 'found love' again when love doesn't exist? Okay, I might be overreacting.

Some people claim to have found love. I guess they're lucky. She could be one of the lucky ones this time around. I'll show up and pretend that men aren't only good for one thing, good dick, if they have it. Just because he fucks you well, it doesn't mean you have to marry the bastard. Take the sex and leave the rest behind, that's what I say.

"Some of us just aren't made for love, are we, Mom?" I said as I tried to spoon-feed her again, hoping this time she'd attempt to chew and swallow.

Chapter 2

Eric

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