Page 28 of Fight for Me

CHAPTER VI

JENNY

The whole week in the women’s shelter seemed unreal to me.

From the moment I woke up the next day after Brody left me here, I felt like I was thrown into a parallel universe where most people are genuinely kind and don’t have a hidden agenda.

As far as my memory goes, my life always consisted of instability and hostile adults. Well, maybe my mother wasn’t hostile, but she always looked the other way when I was being pummeled to the ground. It took me coming here and meeting all the fierce women, who are running away from their monsters, many with small children, to finally realize something. When standing by and pretending all was well, my mother was my abuser too. At least in a way. She contributed to the violence simply by normalizing it, never saying stop or even trying to change our situation.

Most mothers here fought tooth and nail for their children, to get them out, and to give them a better life. When listening to some stories, I couldn’t help but ask myself, “Didn’t my mother love me enough to protect me? Why was she okay with everything that was happening?”

The first two days here, I spent half the time lying in bed staring at the ceiling and doing small chores around the place, mostly keeping to myself.

By the third day, I was approached by a redhead named Lucy, who had been eyeing me curiously ever since I came down for breakfast the first morning. She was so open and lively, reminding me a little of Claire, so I decided to come out of my shell a bit. We struck up an easy conversation right away, and it turned out we have a lot in common when it comes to favorite music and movies.

Lucy’s been here since last month and is hiding away from an ex-boyfriend who stalked her daily and then broke into her apartment. She called the police and got a restraining order, but they couldn’t do much to ensure her safety, so when she started to receive threats in her mail, she ran. It wouldn’t be long before she came upon Ruth’s shelter for battered women.

On the next day, I met a woman named Amelia, who has two little daughters, named Sammy and Silvia. She’s been running away from her husband for a while now. Before Amelia decided to leave her abusive husband, she used to work as a cook’s helper at a restaurant, so Aunt Ruth offered her a job at the shelter and has given her and her daughters their own room.

From what I’ve got, they’ve been living here for a year. Amelia seems to be one of the gentlest souls I have ever met in my life, and I can’t imagine a situation in which someone wants to hurt her. Not that the rest of us deserve it, but she’s just so sweet and kind. Her piece of shit husband had to do a number on her. She rarely leaves the building and if she has an errand to run, she needs to have someone with her because interacting with men or even being around one scares her so much she freaks out.

I know all of this from Lucy, who went into a supermarket with Amelia two weeks ago, and there was some incident involving a male cashier.

The other women seem to be coming and going through the shelter, each of them welcomed with open arms by Ruth, who doesn’t ask any questions. She never comments on anyone’s bruises or asks for their story. Just always stays ready with her reassuring smile.

Many girls come for the night, seeking a safe place to sleep, and in the morning they are out without a word. At first, I was baffled by that revolving door of women coming and going whenever they find it convenient. Then Ruth told me that we don’t know what others are going through and that she’s happy to provide them with at least one peaceful night in a safe environment.

She also informed me that some of them will come back here, and sadly, some of them will go back to their tormentors. But there will be those who recover and move on. From what I gathered, Ruth sees the shelter as a sort of interchange station for most women, waiting here until they leave for their next destination.

Maybe she’s right. I’ve been here for a week now and that’s exactly what I’m doing. Waiting for my next step. Checking my phone constantly, willing Brody to tell me what to do now.

“If you stare any harder at that thing, it’s going to catch on fire,” Lucy teases as she comes into the room carrying a plastic bag.

I drop the ever-silent phone on the bed next to me and sigh, “Not that I don’t like it here, but I can’t exactly sit on my ass until someone else figures my shit out. I have no family and no plan. And I miss my friend Claire. This sucks.”

Lucy plops down next to me and nudges me with her shoulder. “Cheer up, Sunshine. Ruth will let you stay here for as long as you want. I didn’t figure out my shit yet too and I’ve been here longer. It’s good to take a breather before you start over.”

“Yeah, but that’s the thing, though. What does starting over even mean? I can’t imagine my life back at Bell Ridge, even without my father in it. And I also can’t imagine leaving it all behind. Do I even trust the system after everything? I feel like everything Brody told me is just his wishful thinking. It’s a fucking mess.” I hang my head and massage my temples, already feeling the oncoming headache.

“Jenny, you need to chill. You stressing over it isn’t going to bring you any answers. What you need to do is distance yourself a little from it, and focus on yourself, and your healing. I’m sure everything else will fall into place.”

“I guess you’re right,” I muse and nod toward the bag swinging between Lucy’s knees. “So, what’s in the bag?”

She lifts it with a shit-eating grin and exclaims, “A makeover!”

“A what?” I ask, confused.

“I was wondering how I can help you get out of this funk you seem to be stuck in. And I thought what better to cheer a girl up than a new haircut? I went to the store and got some hair dye and scissors.” Lucy starts taking out items from the bag excitedly.

I lean away from her and put my arms up in a defensive gesture. “Are you crazy? Have you seen my hair? You would need a tanker full of dye to color all this,” I point toward my crazy curls.

“That’s why I bought extra,” Lucy singsongs. “And I really think the change will do you some good. Other than that, it’s a perfect way to disguise yourself. Do you think I’m a natural redhead?”

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