Page 26 of The Bones We Break
Oh my fucking God, what have I done?
Ricky is silent on the floor and I can’t tell if I’ve killed him or not, if it wasn’t for his chest rising ever so slightly before falling back down again, I’d be convinced. I let the heavy lamp slip through my fingers before gently placing it on the floor, doing everything I can to keep silent. I never planned for it to go this way, I thought Ricky wouldn’t notice the drugs I slipped into his drink but I guess I was wrong.
My body aches and my head is throbbing from where I hit the side table, a stabbing pain starts to brew behind my eyes. I need to move now before I lose the chance to. Quietly stepping over my husband’s unconscious body, I find myself holding my breath every time I lower my foot. I’m terrified that even in his knocked out state he will wake and grab me, to take me back to his personal version of hell.
I put some distance between myself and Ricky until I’m safely out of view then make my way up the stairs to retrieve my bag. Every step has my body crying out, the pain radiating throughout me has me wincing and gritting my teeth. I waste no time in entering the bedroom and sliding open the wardrobe door, grabbing the holdall bag from the back and swinging it over my shoulder. The weight causes me to release a cry and Iinstantly slap my hand over my mouth to muffle the sound, my eyes welling with hot tears. I don’t have time to cry. I’ve made it this far and I refuse to fall now. Sliding the door closed again, leaving the bedroom in a rush without looking back. There’s nothing left for me here except pain and anguish. My head throbs and spins and I have to force myself to take my time going down the stairs, my hand gripping tightly to the rail on the wall to steady myself. I can hear my heartbeat drumming in my ears, the throbbing sending painful waves throughout my body.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs I spin to face the crime scene of the living room. Glass is sprayed across the floor, photo frames and blood splatter cover the carpet. The lamp I used to hit Ricky over the head with stands in the centre of the room, Ricky still lays near the fireplace. My body starts to shiver and my breathing becomes erratic, like I can’t take enough oxygen in. I think I’m going into shock or I’m about to have a panic attack.
Gripping my bloodied fingers, I tighten my hold on the bag strap and attempt to cover myself up a bit more, my blouse offering no appropriate cover as I take small steps towards the front door, the exit to my freedom is right in front of me. Placing my hand on the lock, I turn it. The clicking is almost deafening but I don’t wait around to find out if Ricky heard it, and swing the door open, stepping one foot out onto the path. The night sky is clear as a crystal, the moon illuminating the street in a soft glow. I can’t understand if I’m doing the right thing, what if there was a chance that we could have fixed this? Maybe Ricky would benefit from some therapy, or proper medication. I’m at war with myself and I’m wasting time, time that I don’t have. Fuck. I can’t concentrate on anything. I push my knuckles into my eyes to try and alleviate the tension so I can think clearly.
I need to leave. I have to.
This is my only chance!
Turning my head, I take one last look behind me, spotting Ricky still lying in the same place then I leave, softly closing the door behind me. I plant both feet on the path, the crunching gravel is the only sound I can hear, and begin to walk down the driveway to the path that leads onto the main street. Standing still for a moment with my arms wrapped around my middle, I listen. I listen to the nothingness that surrounds me and feel a sense of peace for the first time in my life, it’s something I haven’t felt in a long time. My bottom lip begins to wobble at the motions that I’m going through but I refuse to cry any more. I refuse to be kicked down and beaten.
Turning to my right, I take the path that leads out of the neighbourhood, my footsteps light as I know I’m not completely out of the woods yet. After a couple of minutes or so the quaint houses on either side of the road begin to turn into smaller, more packed together houses, like jagged teeth in a monster’s mouth, the noises from odd cars driving down the road begins to grow louder. I quicken my pace until I’m jogging, my bag heavy on my shoulder and my body is screaming for me to slow down, to stop and rest but I can’t. For the first time in my life I don’t do as I’m told, instead I run like hell.
I swear I’ve been running for miles, my knees are aching and the pounding in my head is getting louder. I need to take a breath and somehow flag down a taxi to take me to the motel my father mentioned in his letter. It’s not safe being this exposed on the street, I don’t even know if Ricky has woken up yet. Slowing my pace, taking in gulps of air, I drop my bag on the pavement and dig out a jumper I threw in before leaving, bringing it over my head is a challenge in itself with how much I’m aching but I manage. I find myself in a pretty busy area of our town, even for the late time there’s still late night businesses open and the oddcars driving around. My hand digs around the bag until I come in contact with the letter and pull it out, going to the last page to find the address of the motel. Taking a seat on the bag to rest my legs I sit and wait, hoping that maybe a taxi or someone kind enough will come along to help me to get to the motel. Resting my head in my hands, the letter gripped between my fingers, I let the moments pass, just listening to the sounds of the outside world. The weather is still warm but there’s a slight chill in the air that sends a shiver up my spine.
Lifting my head I scan the area, keeping my wits about me. I can’t trust anyone out here, except for myself. The sound of a car engine comes crawling closer to where I am, causing me to whip my head to the side to try and make out the model of the car, the bright headlights causing me to shield my eyes from the intrusion. What looks like a blue or grey coloured car, not a massive thing, crawls to a stop in front of me, the driver’s side window coming down. I hold my breath and freeze, like a wounded animal ready to pounce or escape as an older gentleman, easily in his late fifties, pokes his head out of the car to look down at me where I’m sitting on my bag. His face is weathered but there’s a kindness to it, almost fatherly. His greying white hair is tucked under a blue baseball cap and wire framed glasses rest on his nose.
“Everything okay ma’am?” He asks, his voice is warming and calm, a stark difference to what I’m used to. I pause in trepidation, unsure of whether to voice my problem. He doesn’t rush my response, he just waits patiently. This gentleman might be my only shot of getting to the motel, so I give him an answer.
“I erm..” I start, stuttering over my words. “I just need a lift to this address.” I point to the bottom of the letter and he leans forward in his seat to read the words. “I can pay you, cash?” I offer, hoping that it will sway his decision to help me. Quickly,I bring the letter back to myself and wrap my arms around my middle, the elements and my sore body causing me to bring up my shoulders. The driver’s warm tone has me looking back at him again, pity spreading across his face.
“I can see you’re in a bit of trouble, ma’am. You don’t need to pay me for this, I want to help.” He says whilst nodding his head, a small smile spreading across his soft face. “Besides, that motel you need to get to is the way I’m heading anyway.” A sense of relief washes over me but I pause for a moment. Is this the right thing to do? What if this man is just as dangerous? But what if I miss my chance at an escape because of my constant state of fear. My emotions battle against each other and I quickly stand from my bag and pick it up.
Fuck it.
What’s the worst that can happen?
“Thank you so much, you have no idea how much this means to me.” I fire out, my throat dry.
“Anytime. Hop in the back, let’s get you somewhere safe.” Tears begin to prick at my eyes at his gesture but I don’t let them fall. I grip the handle of the passenger door and pull it open, then throw my bag in first before climbing in. I instantly feel the heat inside the car penetrate my skin and I welcome it. There’s a slight musty smell to the interior and a few coffee cups littered on the floor but I don’t mind it. I’m so used to everything being perfect and right, that a little messiness eases my anxiety.
The drive is a comfortable silence, the only sound coming from the cars radio playing some old time rock, I smile at the music. I haven’t heard music in such a long time. I make a mental note of treating myself to a radio once I’m settled somewhere. One that I can have in a small kitchen where I can play whatever radio station I want, to dance and sway tothe music, to feel the worn tiles underneath my bare feet. The safety of the daydream helps speed up the drive. Resting my head on the glass window I let the sway of the car rock me into a comfortable sleep, exhaustion hitting me ten fold.
“Ma’am?” I feel a slight nudge on my knee. “You doing okay? We’re at the motel.” Another nudge comes after the first one and I startle awake, my mind on overdrive trying to remember where I am, who that voice belongs to. Panic starts to rise up my chest and throat until my breathing becomes short and shallow.
“Hey, calm down, you’re okay. You’re safe.” A soft voice breaks through the cloud of panic and I try to steady my breathing. My brain finally catches up with my body as I start to recognize my surroundings. The musty smell, the coffee cups littered on the floor, the low noise of the radio. I’m safe. I made it out.
“I’m sorry for startling you like that.” I lift my head and look at the driver who’s turned in his seat to face me, his eyes so apologetic.
“No, no. It’s my fault for falling asleep. I’m sorry.” I manage to say while pushing my hair behind my ears. Looking out of the window, I notice the motel just a short walk away from the car, the blue neon lights of the sign flickering in the darkness. In the dark abyss of the car park, there’s a couple of cars parked outside and a small twenty four hour convenience store at the side of the motel. Shifting my focus back to the driver, I begin to grab my bag.
“Thank you for bringing me here. Are you sure I can’t pay you for your trouble?” I say while unzipping the bag to pull out the cash. He puts his hand out slowly to stop me.
“Keep the money. Use it to get out of here.” He gestures to the space with his hand before putting it back on his knee. Hisvoice is soft and kind. “Start afresh somewhere, away from the monsters you’re running away from, that’s enough payment for me.” A small smile graces his face and I can’t help but give him one of my own back. I struggle to find the right words so I simply nod and exit the car and softly close the door behind me, then shrug my bag onto my shoulder again, the heaviness sends a pinching pain up my neck to the back of my head. Fuck, I need to check this wound over.
Taking a deep breath I begin the short walk to the entrance of the motel. Coming to stand in front of the glass double doors that are scattered with odd stickers and flyers, I hear my saviour in the beat up car finally drive away, then I wrap my hand around the metal bar that makes up the door handle and push it open. The hinges creak and a bell above the door chimes. Stepping into the entrance of the motel, a warmness washes over me along with a stale smell that’s mixed with a lemon air freshener.
Scouring the open space, I take in my surroundings. A well worn door mat sits underneath my feet, the wordsWelcomehave faded with all the times someone has stood on it. A burgundy carpet covers the entire floor, dotted with rips and threads and the odd forbidden stain. The off yellow walls are pretty bare and chipped in some places showing the white undercoat underneath. Overall, it’s pretty beat up, but it’s a place to stay.
Shuffling my bag closer, I take small steps towards the front desk. Facing me, there’s a small wooden window frame that looks like it’s seen better days, but who am I to judge. I poke my head into the frame noting all the door keys hung on small hooks on the wall, each given their own plastic keyring with an allocated number, along with piles of paperwork that line the desk that’s behind the frame. A lone, empty coffee cup withbrown stains down the side, and a packet of cigarettes sit on top of them. I smile to myself at the chaos of the small office.
There’s a worn silver bell that catches my eye on the front desk and I press my fingers down on it, a sharp chime rings through the silent room and I wait. A couple of seconds go by and I hear shuffling coming from somewhere inside the office, then a raspy woman’s voice speaks out.
