Page 3 of Beaten

Emily

Craig had gone too far this time, so when the police showed up after a neighbor called in a noise complaint, I didn’t stop them from arresting him. After giving my statement to the arresting officer, and having what felt like a thousand pictures taken of my cuts and bruises at the police department, I went home and packed my bags.I can’t be here when Craig got home.He’d be pissed, and I was terrified of what he’d do to me in retaliation.

I’d declined the police escort home, thinking Craig would be in jail long enough for me to pack and get on the road. But as I stood alone in our apartment, I second guessed myself.What if he posts bail right away?What if he’s on his way home right now?

I had to hurry. With trembling hands, I carefully lifted my blood-stained shirt, wincing as the movement reminded me of my bruised ribs, and pulled it over my head. Looking atmy injuries in the bathroom mirror, I couldn’t help but feel disgusted with myself.How could I let him keep doing this to me?

My ribcage was already a disgusting shade of baby vomit green, and would probably be dark purple before I got to Weatherford. The marks on my wrists and arms, where he’d grabbed me, weren’t much better.But at least I can hide them from my brother and parents.

I brought a shaky finger to the corner of my mouth, but didn’t touch it, no amount of makeup would cover up my split lip or swollen, black eye. I let out a long sigh, then gently washed the dried blood and tear stains from my face before putting on a clean shirt. Not caring about wrinkling them I threw a bunch of clothes, and my jewelry, into two large suitcases. Then packed my laptop and a few personal items that I didn’t want Craig destroying when he got home and realized I’d left him.

Do I need anything else? I was running on fear and adrenaline and afraid I’d forget something important.

Toiletries and makeup. I grabbed a bag and started dropping stuff in it with shaking hands. swearing each time I dropped something in the sink.

I don’t have time to pack everything, and can’t worry about leaving unimportant things behind.

Once I was safely on the highway I called my older brother, Chris.

“Hey Em, what’s up?”

“Hey. I, uh, I’m coming home.” My voice hitched as I blinked back tears. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t see me,he’d still be able to hear the fear and pain in my voice.So, I decided it was best to get the why out in the open, and blurted out, “Craig’s in jail,” with a shaky voice.I probably should’ve thought that out, said it better.

“Jesus. Are you alright? What the fuck happened?” He said, voice was thick with concern.

I mustered up as much courage as I could, and answered. “He hit me.” Better to rip off the bandaid quickly.

Craig swore softly.

“It’s not bad, but I needed to leave.”

“Not bad!” His harsh tone made me wince. “What the fuck, Emily, it’s bad enough that he’s in jail, so don’t you dare play it down for my benefit.” He lowered his voice, though the tone was no less angry. “Has this happened before? Is this why you didn’t come home last weekend, because he hit you?”

“Can we talk about it when I get there. Please?” I should've texted instead of calling, and starting this conversation while I was driving. Besides, this was a conversation best had in person.

He conceded. “Yeah, sure.” I could tell he wanted answers, and was grateful he’d reluctantly agreed. “What time do you think you’ll get here?”

The glowing numbers on the dash read seven-thirty. “Shit, around eleven-thirty. Is that too late? I can-”

“I’ll be up. You can crash here tonight.”

“Thanks.” My shoulders relaxed as relief washed over me. My only other option was my parents house and I wasn’t ready to face them yet. They’d freak out if they saw me like this and I didn’t have the energy to deal with them right now.Chris was just as concerned, but at least he’d give me some space. At least for tonight.

“Of course,” he paused, “But I’ll expect answers tonight.”

Or maybe not. I sighed. It was probably better to bite the bullet and get it over with. “I know. I promise I’ll tell you everything when I get there.”

“You’re welcome. Drive safe, and text me when you’re close.”

“Okay.” It wouldn’t be easy telling Chris how out of control I’d let things get with Craig. But it had to be done.

Sadly, tonight wasn’t the first time Craig had hit me, the most recent had been last weekend.

Tears flowed as I remembered how quickly the situation had gotten out of control. I asked a simple question and hadn’t realized I’d done anything wrong until the half-empty beer bottle whizzed by my head and shattered against the wall.

“See what you made me do?” He’d screamed before hitting me. Then he’d yanked my hair, forced me to my knees, and made me look at the mess. When he said, “I’m sorry I got mad, but you shouldn’t question me,” I did my best to hide the disbelief on my face as I looked up at him. Craig might’ve said the words I’m sorry, but his tone said it was my fault. And I knew from experience he’d expect me to apologize.

With a trembling voice, I said, “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” I’d only asked so I would know what time to make his dinner.

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