Page 37 of Clash
Shame was something inevitable when it came to being a battered wife. People either pitied you or resented you. A lot of my friends, if you could even call them that, thought I was lying about the abuse. Even when I showed them the bruises, they still felt like I was lying. My life was a fickle piece of trash… no wonder I felt so comfortable living behind a dumpster.
“And this man, the one that helped you, you say he’s not good?”
“Mr. Clash is the nicest!” Alex chimed in, defending Clash. “He gave me this.” Holding up his teddy bear for her to see, hegrinned. “Daddy used to buy me toys, but never stuffies like this. He said they were for girls.”
Bessie’s prying gaze narrowed in on me, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. She was wondering if he ever hurt Alex.
“Once,” I softly spoke after finally lifting my head. “But I wouldn’t let him touch our son after that. If he got close…”
“You took the hits?”
I nodded. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this. You’re a stranger to us, and we’re invading your home.”
She shook her head, chuckling as the wrinkles creased at her eyes and formed the softest of crow’s feet. “Nonsense! I invited you in. It gets hard having no one to talk to. My neighbors see me as more of a bother than anything else. Nobody wants to take the time to get to know the garden lady.” Sadness crept over her eyes, making me want to pull her in for a hug. I kept my distance though, knowing that hugs should be asked for, not spontaneously given to strangers.
It reminded me of the time that one of my old co-workers gave me a hug outside of work. It was apparent he had a crush on me, but his mother had died that morning, and he really needed some comfort. If I had known that Eric would pull up at that exact moment, I would’ve never hugged him at all.
“You stupid fucking whore!” Eric shouted, throwing me to the carpet the second we were behind closed doors. “Are you fucking him? Is that why you’re such a disappointment in bed now?”
“No, Eric! Please. He’s just a co-worker. His mom…”
“Save your pathetic excuses for someone that actually gives a damn, Gina. I can smell his cheap cologne all over you! God, you fucking disgust me, you fat, lazy cow!” His hand snapped back, connecting with my cheek as he whipped it to the side. The ache of the hit throbbed, and even the coolness of my tearscouldn’t satiate the agony his wicked temper invoked inside of me.
I felt the tip of his shoe before my body went careening over, making me land on my back and into a turtle position on the floor. He loosened his tie, then pulled it around my wrists, imprisoning them so I couldn’t move.
“I should fucking kill you for straying on me, Gina, but we both know I would need someone to take care of my son. So, instead of taking your miserable life and doing the world a favor, I’m going to fuck that piece of shit out of your system.” He undid his pants, forcing my legs apart violently. The way his palms pressed into my thighs would definitely leave a bruise, but he always made sure to leave bruises where only I could see them. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you hate every minute of this like always.”
“Don’t touch me!” I screamed, fighting him off the best I could with bound hands.
When I tried to wiggle free, his fist connected with my ribs, and the air was practically ripped out of my lungs.
“I’d hit you in the face, but then people might actually believe the lies you try to spread about me.”
“I hate you!”
He covered my mouth, smothering my screams as he ripped my clothing away from my body. “You want to act like a whore, then I’m going to fuck you like one.”
His hand jerked away as my teeth clamped down on the skin between his thumb and pointer finger, determined to tear away his flesh and draw blood. I’d never fought him before, so my sudden defiance must’ve only spurred him on.
Spit coated my face as he drew back and spat, marking me with his alcohol tainted saliva. “Stupid cunt.” Blood dripped down his hand, but he was more focused on his raging erection and satisfying his craving for me.
I’d always been willing before… but this time he was going to take me without permission, making me learn whatever fucked up lesson he wanted to teach.
It only taught me how to numb the pain—how to escape the physical aspects of his punishments by entering a blank state of mind. I learned in those moments how to leave my body, becoming the shell he wanted so desperately for me to be.
And, as my sad-excuse for a husband climbed on top of me, I focused on a spot on the wall, eternally thankful he forgot to pick up Alex from daycare that day.
“Gina, are you okay, dear?”
The sponginess of my cheek glistened with painful tears as nightmare plagued memories invaded my thoughts.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m just so utterly broken. When that cop took my money, he took away all hope of me ever having a fighting chance for myself and Alex.”
“Exactly how much money did this police officer take from you?”
“Seven grand. I had just pawned my wedding ring. I was hoping to get a plane ticket or maybe a cheap used car.”
Bessie’s mouth pulled tight. I wasn’t sure if she believed me, but the only thing I had working for me anymore was the truth.
