Page 3 of A Little Puck Luck

While I wanted to protect my face, I tried to protect my stomach and womb. Even if it was a feeble attempt to save my unborn baby, I didn’t want to have a miscarriage.

I just let him beat me.

“Oh, you think you’re so clever. I found your stupid phone. Even without being able to unlock it, I know you’re fucking cheating on me with that douchebag hockey player!”

That’s when he threw the phone Spencer Suzuki gave me so we could figure out Eric’s hockey schedule and I could keep doing the dog walking. Spencer was a professional hockey player for the Vancouver Legacy who took Eric under his wing when we were at the domestic abuse shelter. He continued to help us by giving even after we left the shelter.

Each blow hit, but thankfully, he focused the attack on my head and ribs and not our unborn baby.

If I thought reasoning would help, I would have spoken up. But it wouldn’t do any good. Besides, I was just trying to survive.

If I accepted my punishment and did not make a sound, he would stop a little sooner. He thrived off of my suffering. He lived for tears and screams from me, and when I was zombified, he didn’t get the same kick.

He kept going, pushing me down to the ground and pounding on my body. This beating was worse than ever before.

He kept going on and on, and eventually, I had to protect my head since he was going to beat my skull into the floor.

Suddenly, he let go and stood over me, which made me even more afraid. He loomed above me like a monster, and then he started to kick me.

This was unlike any other attack on my body. Instead of trying to punch my stomach or womb, he kept kicking higher. He hit my ribs several times, making me almost wish he would hit a different spot.

He wouldn’t kick lower since he was “man enough” not to be a baby killer. I should be thankful for that, but I wasn’t sure I was going to live through the night.

“I’m going to kill you! No woman of mine should even think about another man, let alone sleep with them. I’m already raising one bastard for you. I’ll be damned if I’ll raise another one.”

That was when I coughed out, “The baby is yours. For the last five years, I’ve only ever slept with you. Even when I ran away.”

“Bullshit,” he snarled.

Right then, some sirens sounded outside the house.

I wanted to cry for joy, but Luke wasn’t being rational or fair. If anything, he started to attack harder and harder as the police knocked on the door. He didn’t even bother to open it.

And that’s when Eric came out of nowhere. He threw the door open and pointed at Luke and me.

Thank god, the police rushed over and pulled Luke off of me, and I could finally breathe. Eric rushed over to me. He looked petrified, and his voice was so quiet when he mumbled, “Oh, Mama, it’s going to be okay. I promise.”

“Thanks, bud,” I replied as I closed my eyes and tried to find something that didn’t hurt. Then, Eric ran away from me. I tried to call out since I didn’t want Luke to get to him, but I couldn’t talk. Trying to speak just resulted in a cough filled with blood.

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’m just getting some stuff. Mr. Spencer is coming too.”

Everything hurt so much that I couldn’t even think about that. I thought Eric was talking crazy, but he managed to grab my purse and find the phone that was next to me.

When Eric came back, I grabbed his hand. I was so glad he was okay, and knowing my kid needed me, I didn’t let myself give in to the darkness.

It didn’t take long for the paramedics to arrive. They started to move me and ask some questions, but it was so hard to talk even though my coughs had settled.

All of a sudden, I heard more vileness coming from outside, but I couldn’t really tell what was being said.

Then, I was being carted off to the ambulance. Eric ran out and greeted someone, but I knew by how happy and relieved he seemed that it wasn’t the cops. It was someone else.

After a few moments, somebody came up to me outside the ambulance, and I wanted to give him my statement. This time, I was going to press charges since I was sure Luke had just tried to kill me with all his beatings. The person, who turned out to be an EMT, said, “Shh. Don’t try to talk. The police officer will come over soon, and you can do things slowly.”

I nodded meekly, although my head was damn heavy.

Not long after, a police officer came up to me. “Those men over there said they are here to take Eric.”

I lifted my head to try and get a good view of who was there, but the EMT gently pushed me back down onto the makeshift bed. “Don’t move,” he instructed.

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