Page 161 of The Breaking Pointe
herself, but he needs to pay, in the worst way possible. Threatening her with a fucking gun?
The sound of sirens wail faintly in the atmosphere nearby, making everything that just happened become all the more real. Tony reaches his arm around me, pulling me up from the piled glass. Subconsciously, I take his help, wincing as the glass pieces fall from the fabric of the shirt on my back. The higher my body rises from the floor, the more the blood on my shirt becomes visible. The solid white is gashed and splattered with my own bodily fluid, and now I can feel it dripping down my side, slowly to my waistline.
“It burns like shit.”I roughly breathe, looking down at my side as I yank my shirt above the wound to see it for myself. Tonygagsatthesight,lettingmegoandcoveringhis mouthwithhisfist,whilethegirlsstareatmeinuttershock.
I grab onto a counter to hold myself up as the pain is now setting in—as I predicted.
“It’s not so bad, actually.” I take a deep breath, trying to remain calm.
“It looks like it needs stitches…” Lauren says. “Stitches?”I ask, suddenly concerned, and shocked by my
unison with Noelle with the same question.
We both look at each other and I glimpse at her neck again, my anger flaring again.
“I’m not getting stitches—no,” I deny her assumption, thinking about the needle and thread, then shivering.
“Well that’s not exactly up to you, Colton,” Lauren argues back.
“Guys, the police are here,” Noelle says, grabbing myarm. “Sit down, before you get sick.We need to get medical help,” she commands, directing me to a nearby seat as the police
officer’s boots clunk into the hardwood floor, entering the house.
I look down at my side again, running a couple of delicate fingers along the throbbing areas and twitching at the feeling of my fingers in the slightly open wound.
I don’t know how in this moment I can think of such a thing—but I can’t help but wonder if this is what it was like for my mother.Battling my father at each and every waking moment that he felt allowed.Why did he feel like he was allowed to mess with her mind?Why does Daniel feel that he’s allowed to mess with Noelle’s mind?What do they get from it? The power trip can’t be the only thing that makes them bat shit.I could blame drugs, but I also wonder if it fulfills them. Like a replacement to get a fix. Or maybe it truly is just plain old mental instability. I wonder, not because I don’t understand.I don’t want to.I wonder because I plan to take every step to avoid becoming so empty and bitter that I physically assault and abuse the people that I claim to stay alive for. What I also don’t understand, and refuse to question any longer, is how I managed to beat the odds of becoming them.
MaybeI’mnotsupposedto,andthatmakessense.
* * *
When Noelle filed the Protection of Abuse Order against Daniel, I stood right beside her and watched. I kept wanting to take the papers away from her so that she wouldn’t have to write down and reread all the horrible things he’s ever done to her. She said herself she’s embarrassed to even look atherselfinthemirror.Mortifiedbyherownexistence.I
would be, too, I suppose, if I were examined and had pictures taken of my body to prove such brutal claims. It’s not done to make you feel good.It’s like advertising how battered they think you are as a person.She’s not battered though, and she shouldn’t feel embarrassed. She has nothing to be ashamed of. It’s hard for anyone to prevail when your truths are being mushed in your face.
That’s what therapy feels like to me.Advertising how battered you are. I think maybe that’s what group feels like for Noelle. I should know what it feels like, but I’ve been too selfish to subject myself because of my past traumas. Now, it’s hard to separate those traumas, knowing that we are both a victim to Daniel, in ways. Her, more than I, for sure. Our fears are different. I’m scared for her, not myself. She’s just scared for herself.Even if he is incarcerated until our fight.The memory of him is awful.If she can live with that, I can go to a goddamned group therapy session with her.
To everyone’s demise, Daniel has to be released on watch in order to finish the few fights he has left that are contrac- tual. It makes sense, law-wise, and I don’t have any choice but to accept that.Except him existing in my vicinity or hers is just another chance for him to instill some inkling of fear into her, to try and gain a force of control. As someone like him would do to any woman.It’s like no matter what, he can get in her head. She can’t escape the torture. It’s painful to witness, painful to imagine, and yet, still, it’s her real life.
Out of all the things I can fix, they say this isn’t one of them.
But Iwon’tstoptrying.
She’s stayed with me since the incident. I feel God awfulfor trashing their entire apartment, even if it was for a good
reason, therefore I paid for every expense. It almost made me feel better, on a deeper, moral scale, but I can’t get the thought of the entire thing out of my head. That, and I still had to hear it from Trey, as well as watch as my name get dragged through the mud by Daniel’s team on the internet. Nobody really knows the truth, since none of us will disclose it for Noelle’s sake and privacy, but the internet works in mysterious ways.People dig and dig until they find what they want, and well—that’s how the photos of Noelle’s neck and our entire police report was exposed on some forum.All of that goes without mentioning the twenty-three stitches across my abdomen.Figures that that’s what I’m least bothered by.
To shorten a long, detailed discussion, Daniel’s actions weren’t going ignored by the public, and though it’s not punishment enough for my liking—it’s punishment.
In the same breath, neither were Noelle’s.From the closing of her dance studio, to the after effects of dating someone like the likes of him, and having it, and him haunting her—the rumors follow, too. Gossip about us as individuals, and nonsense about cheating.Some rumors are sinister, and others far from, but more than half of New York wants to hear her tell her story, and not in a domestic survivor kind of way. It’s more in an exploitative way.I think it’s just bored members of his team, working to cut her deeper and make her look awful. It frustrates me because I know I’m most likely correct, but I can’t prove that, though, and there’s no use in doing so. Daniel’s already been arrested, and justice is going to be served. There’s just too many emotional scars left behind.
That’sthepartthatIcan’tletgoof.Guesswecan
collectivelysaythatI’mbitter.
Noelleclimbsintothecar,waitingasIgentlycloseit onceshe’sinside.Ilistenasafewreportersfollowme while I walk around to the driver’s side of my car.Somehave cameras, and one guy in particular has some sort of recording machine, asking me questions a million miles per minute.I take one last look at the police station, praying it’s our last time visiting, as it’s the third time since the incident. It’s been three weeks, and they still won’t leave us alone. “Mr.Kennedy,is this how you wanted things to go?Doyou feel like Daniel Aguado is getting what he deserves?Or is there more to the story?”the reporter with the small device
asks, holdingitclosertome.
