6. Korine
6
KORINE
“Helping Hands, Healing Hearts. Thank you for reaching out. Your story is of utmost importance to us,” comes the gentle voice on the other end. “May I start with your name and zip code?”
I hold my breath to keep from answering. Fingers clenched tight around my phone, it’s all I can do to sit silent and not burst into tears.
“Hello?” asks the advocate. “Helping Hands, Healing Hearts. Are you there?”
I’m frozen. I’m right on the edge. So lost in my head I don’t even know where to begin. It feels like if I even try to speak, I’ll lose control.
“Sweetheart? Please say something. I can hear noises on the other end.”
I glance around at the rest of my surroundings. The parking lot of the local Buy N’ Save bustles with cars and customers coming and going. I’m parked as far off from the store as possible in hopes of even a little discretion.
But it still feels like any word I say will come out wrong. It’ll come back to haunt me. Just like it always does.
“I… I think…” I choke out. My voice sounds hoarse. Devastatingly quiet even to my ears despite the fact that I’m alone. His presence looms even when he’s not around. “I think…” I try again, and then a third time. “I… I need help.”
“Of course, sweetheart. Can we start with your name and zip code?”
“No. No… I can’t…”
“But, sweetheart, I’ll need your zip code for resources?—”
“I said no,” I snap, suddenly irritated. “I can’t. No personal info.”
“Okay, remain calm. Why don’t you tell me about what’s going on?”
It seems like such an obvious question that I should have an immediate answer for. The past decade should be clear in my mind. I should be able to pinpoint how I’ve wound up here, placing secret phone calls in the parking lot of the local Buy N’ Save.
Yet, as I rack my brain, everything blurs. The past feels like a nebulous cloud. Fuzzy and out of focus. How did I reach this point? How could I let things get so… messed up?
The woman on the phone must sense my confusion. “You don’t have to share everything. Just tell me what you can. How did you meet your partner?”
I gulp down some air, clinging to my phone like it’s a lifeline. “In college… my second year…”
“And how old are you now, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Twenty-eight,” I mutter.
“So young,” she says with a soft laugh. “I remember what that was like. But it sounds as if you’ve been together a while.”
I nod. “We’re… married.”
“I understand. That can make the situation feel complicated. Tell me about what made you call today.”
“My husband…” I trail off, fighting through the fog. Forcing the words out. To make it real by speaking them. “He put his hands on me.”
“I see. Was this the first time?”
My heart clenches instead of beats. The pain’s worse than the injuries I’ve sustained—the tenderness in my ribs and deep ache in my jaw. The same jaw I’ve covered up with several layers of makeup just to be able to go outside.
“It wasn’t the first time. It’s… it’s happened before.”
“Are you safe where you are? You don’t have to go back. You can head to a local shelter right this moment. Tell me your name and zip code and I can?—”
“I said I don’t want to give you that!”
“It’s information I’m going to need.”
A wave of cold panic crashes over me. I cut the call short before the woman can even get another word out.
Pent-up emotion spills out of me in a flood of tears. I shrink in my seat and grip the steering wheel so hard, the leather cracks and tiny chipped pieces fall away. My breath grows sharper the harder I cry, turning into outright gasps for air. Tears wet my lashes and streak down my cheeks in a pitiful trail that I impatiently wipe away.
It’s the crushing knowledge that there’s no escape. No matter what I do, I can’t run from the bed I’ve made.
No stranger over a hotline can help me. No number of fantasies about my ex-best friend and what could’ve been will change a thing.
What’s done is done.
I’m here in Pulsboro because that’s where Ken needs us to be, and anything short of his way is unheard of. I have to do what I always do—smile and bear it. Smile and pretend it’s okay.
I’ll have to pretend Blake doesn’t exist.
There’s not enough room for the both of us in this town.
There’s no chance I can live the life I have and endure being around the man that broke my heart in a way that hasn’t been fixed since. The torture’s too much… even for me.
My cries turn into gasps that turn into hiccups. Soon the emotion expels itself from every inch of my body until there’s nothing left.
Just a dull ache in my ribs that I’m more than used to.
Time to clean myself up. Time to get back on track. Before Ken finds out…
That terrifying thought jolts me into action—I fumble for the to-go pack of tissues I keep in the glove compartment and hurry to wipe the tear stains from my cheeks. My reflection stares back at me as I practice my smile.
An activity that’s become routine over the years.
I’m so engrossed in making sure I look presentable that I don’t notice the man walking up. His knuckles tap against the car window and make my heart flip in my chest.
My gaze slides over to find Lieutenant Gillard standing on the other side of the glass. After a shocked second, I press a finger on the button that lowers the window.
“Hey there,” he says brightly. “Here I was, picking up a couple things at the Buy N’ Save, and I thought to myself, that sure looks like Stricklin’s wife parked over here. Turns out, I was right.”
I put my smile back on. “Oh. Yes. Hello. I… I didn’t see you.”
“Sneak attack,” he laughs, leaning an arm against the car roof. “You okay there? It looked like you were crying.”
No. No. No. No!
“I’m fine,” I say quickly. “Really, I’m okay.”
“Stricklin ain’t giving you a hard time, is he? He’s a damn good cop, but he can be a regular stick-in-the-mud.”
“He’s great. He’s always great. I’m really lucky to have him. But I should get going. It was nice to see you, lieutenant.”
I leave the lieutenant stepping back with a frown as I twist the key in the ignition and swing out of my parking spot.
For the third time in a week, I’m on the run. I’m speeding off with a sense of panic ringing through me. The first two times after being ambushed by Blake. Today it’s being ambushed by one of Ken’s bosses.
“What’s wrong with my baby?” Mama asks a little while later. I’ve buckled her into the passenger seat after collecting her from her medical appointment. Her hand covers mine and worry fills her normally warm, if sometimes vacant, eyes. “You’re upset, baby. What’s wrong?”
I give her a sad smile. “I’m just happy your doctor was able to fit you in on such short notice.”
She still doesn’t seem convinced as I walk around to the other side of the car.
Our drive home is a silent one. I’m still reeling from the phone call. Mama stares out the window with keen interest like she always does these days, like she’s seeing the town for the first time.
When we pass the entrance for the highway, I’m half tempted to make a sharp turn and slam on the gas. Speed the fuck out of town and never look back.
Another alternate reality of mine, where Mama and I run away and live happily ever after elsewhere. In that fantasy we’re somehow miraculously able to afford starting over, mounting healthcare bills and all…
I blink out of the daydream and instead turn down the street that’ll take us home.
“Baby,” Mama says softly.
“Yes, Mama?”
“Would you tell me… if you were unhappy?”
“Mama—”
“A mother knows her child,” she interrupts. “If you were unhappy, I hope you’d do what’s best for you. Not for me. I’ve lived my life, baby. You’ve got yours laid out in front of you. You can do anything. Haven’t I always told you that? Didn’t your father too before he passed?”
I’m in tears before I know it. A running theme for today. I let out a shaky sigh and pull into our driveway. “Yes, Mama. You’ve both always encouraged me.”
She reaches over and wipes the tears from my cheek. “I know I’m not always here. I wish I were. I wish I… oh. Oh no.”
“What is it—bathroom?”
Her wide, horrified eyes tell me we have seconds.
I rush from the driver’s side to make it to her in time.
In the end, we do. Just barely.
I spend the next hour getting her cleaned up and settled in her room. The entire time, I’m preoccupied with thoughts about what she said earlier during our drive home.
Mama makes it sound so simple. As if it’s that easy to follow my happiness and forget the consequences.
Her never-ending medical needs and the steep bills that come with them say differently. My lack of financial freedom and any meaningful career prospects prove otherwise.
I’m not even supposed to have my Geo anymore. Luckily, Ken felt guilty after his latest violent fit once he realized he’d beaten me a little harder than he intended. The black and blue marring my skin were inconvenient reminders which forced a change of heart in him. He let me keep the Geo— unfixed and sporting the crushed rear bumper from my hit-and-run—but not without first mentioning I should be grateful for his kindness and mercy.
That sums up the extent of agency I’m allowed…
I went to the Autoshop yesterday, behind his back, with what little funds I have saved.
How do you escape being suffocated when you’re never given room to breathe?
Today’s phone call was reckless. If Ken even senses leaving him is on my mind…
Intense dizziness threatens to take over just imagining his reaction.
It wouldn’t be pretty at all. Would he even let me out the door alive? Already aware of the dark answer to that question, it disturbs me so much I have to force the thought away.
I focus on staying ahead of the schedule, rushing to start dinner prep.
I’m quick and efficient. I chop the green and red peppers as the chicken bakes in the oven and the tomato sauce boils on the stove. The table is set with no plate or piece of cutlery out of place. The fireplace is lit, and Ken's drink is poured and left for him at his seat at the head of the table.
He enters the kitchen, still in his uniform, to the sight of me at the stove. He sniffs the air and gives a nod of approval.
“Smells delicious, Kor.”
It’s as he comes in close to kiss my cheek that I detect a scent of my own—flowery notes that can only be women’s perfume. Far from the first time I’ve smelled it on him, I’m caught between reactions. Instant curiosity about the scent conflicts with the roil of nerves his proximity brings me. The nerves win out, and I bite my tongue, making every effort to keep my hands steady and appear calm.
He’s taken to studying me. His gaze rakes over me, head to toe as if checking for a mistake. Once he’s satisfied, he backs off, his hands on his belt. “How was Sunny’s appointment?”
“It went well. The doctor thinks he might have a new treatment that could reverse some of her condition.”
“Sounds expensive.”
My nerves twist tighter in my stomach. “You’re right. I’m… I’m sure he’ll figure something else out.”
“I said it sounds expensive. I didn’t say we wouldn’t try it. Sunny is a part of our family. Why would you think I wouldn’t want her to get better?”
“You’re right,” I repeat, puzzled by his mood swing. “I just meant if it was too expensive?—”
“Nothing’s too good or expensive for my girls. Don’t I always give you the best of everything?”
I give a stiff nod. “Yes. Always.”
The answer is sufficient enough. He steps away without another word. I let out the breath I was holding, my chest heaving as if I’ve undergone strenuous activity.
Dinner is no less frustrating.
We sit down as a family to the meal I’ve prepared. Mama thanks us for inviting her over for dinner (never mind that she lives here) and mentions how she’ll need to get going soon to avoid traffic on her drive home. Neither of us correct her. Ken's too busy criticizing the food, and I’m preoccupied pretending I’m not breaking apart on the inside.
“What a delicious meal you cooked, baby.” Mama reaches over and pats my hand. “But I really should get going. Where’s my coat and purse?”
“You live here, Mama. Did you mean you’re ready to go upstairs and rest?”
“Oh. I do?” She blinks a few times. “I guess… maybe that’s what I meant.”
I take her upstairs to do just that.
Mama lets me help her into the shower and change her into PJs. She settles into bed next to her reading lamp, clutching a good book. I kiss her cheek and remind her to use the alert button if she needs to call me back up.
Ken's on the phone when I return. Honestly, it’s a relief, meaning less direct interaction.
I begin collecting the dinner plates and loading them in the dishwasher. Traces of his conversation travel into the kitchen.
“Of course you’re not interrupting anything, lieutenant. Any call of yours is important.”
My chest constricts tighter. I freeze with a plate in one hand and an empty glass in another.
“No need to worry. My family’s well taken care of. You… did, did you? No, she didn’t mention it.”
He’s stopped in the hall, his phone pressed up to his ear, his head turned in the direction of the kitchen’s open doorway. I’ve resumed sorting the dishes into the dishwasher, urging myself to act cool. Stay calm. Be normal.
I pretend I don’t notice him. I don’t feel the prick of the invisible daggers he’s throwing my way.
“You know how women get,” he says in a stilted tone. “They cry over everything. What’s that about the promotion? Is there anything I can do to change your mind, lieutenant? But I thought—isn’t there some other way—hang on, lieutenant, I’d like to talk about—hello? Hello ?!”
Deafening silence follows.
It’s like the world falls mute. It’s like time stands still. I can’t bring myself to move. I clutch the bottle of dishwasher detergent and I become stuck.
Tension overwhelms my body to the point that every bone goes stiff. I’m physically incapable of doing anything except remaining in place and praying I’m wrong.
Praying he’ll walk away just this once.
But I should know better by now.
His shoes clack on the kitchen tiles. My heart rate climbs through the roof. I force myself to make conversation. Maybe create a distraction.
“Did you… do you want to watch the… the game?” I sputter out. “I’ll pour you another drink and turn it on.”
Ken says nothing. He’s fixed me with a heavily lidded glare full of rage and loathing.
“Ken—”
“Tell me what I did, Kor,” he says. He takes a step toward me. “Tell me what I did to deserve this kind of treatment.”
“What… what kind of treatment?”
“What did I do to you, Kor? What did I do to you to make you this fucking difficult?”
My heart drops, and I shake my head fervently from left to right. “You didn’t do anything, Ken.”
“Because I must’ve done something.” He moves closer, slow at first, ’til he explodes a second later. He bursts toward me, screaming in my face. “I MUST’VE DONE SOMETHING FOR MY WIFE TO RUIN MY LIFE LIKE THIS!”
I flinch from the sheer volume of his voice. My fingers squeeze the plastic bottle of dishwasher detergent and accidentally squirt a straight shot of soap into Ken’s eyes.
“ ARGH !” he roars.
My mouth falls open in horror. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean?—”
The back of his hand collides with my cheek and wipes out everything.
My words. My thoughts. My balance as the blow knocks me backward and the bottle of dishwasher detergent slips out of my grasp.
If not for the kitchen counter and cabinets, I’d be on the floor.
I slump against the counter, trying to remain vertical, but it feels impossible when the room spins and blood wets my lips.
More loud silence follows the violence.
I’m speechless and Ken’s fuming. It’s etched onto his face as he wipes the soap from his eyes and glares at me from where he stands.
“What did you just do to my baby?”
Mama’s wandered into the kitchen in her robe and fuzzy slippers. Instead of wearing her usual perplexed expression, she’s surveying the scene before her with knitted brows and a pinched mouth. Her disgust rolls off her in a thick wave.
Even Ken seems thrown by it. “Sunny?—”
“You just hit my daughter,” she says, taking a step closer. “How dare you put your hands on my baby?”
“Mama, please… stop.”
“Sunny, go upstairs. This is between me and Korine.”
But once Mama gets going, there’s no slowing her down. She marches up to Ken and jams a finger in his chest, her fuzzy slippers scratching against the floor.
“I should’ve known you’re nothing but a bully! You should be ashamed of yourself. You think you’re going to hurt my daughter, then you’ve got another thing coming. I’m calling the police!”
“Mama, no!”
“Sunny, get the fuck upstairs!”
The situation spirals out of control more than it already has.
Mama turns around to go find a phone. Ken leaps at her in an attempt to stop her. His shoulder slams into her from behind. Mama tips over with a frightened whimper as she’s shoved to the ground.
“MAMA!” I scream, snapping into action. “DON’T FUCKING TOUCH HER!”
Something flicks on inside me. Some kind of survival mode, an attack mode I’ve never gone into around Ken.
But the sight of him putting his hands on Mama is too much. As he reaches to pull her up by the collar of her robe for another strike, I’m throwing myself at him. My fists smash into any part of him I can reach. My legs do the same. I’m screaming at the top of my lungs as I insert myself between them.
It’s immediately evident I’m no match for him, a man twice my size and a police officer that’s been well trained on physical confrontations.
Ken has no problem redirecting his ire. He blocks my swing and then flips me upside down. I land hard on my back, feeling like my spine has shattered. I haven’t even begun to process the pain shooting through me before Ken’s giving more. He draws back his foot and delivers what can only be called an inhumane kick to my side.
One turns into two, which snowballs into three and four. My body arches and I cry out in pain. In futile hope that he’ll take mercy and stop.
But he’s only getting started—he pins me to the ground where I am, his weight pressing down on me, his face a scary mask of rage and hatred.
“You fucking bitch, why the fuck do I put up with you? All you’ve done is ruin my life!”
“I’m sorry!” I scream out desperately. “I’m so sorry. Please… I’m sorry, Ken!”
I apologize a dozen times even though I don’t know what it’s for this time. But I hadn’t last time either. Maybe this time will be the time he finally believes me.
It stopped mattering why I was apologizing years ago. All that matters is that I get him to stop.
It only makes him madder. His fist slams into my face as he roars at me to shut up and stop talking.
“You’re useless—you and your senile cow of a mother! You think anybody else would want you? You’ve failed at every fucking thing in life, and yet I still wanted you! I still married you and gave you everything you ever asked for! And this is how you repay me?”
Another desperate cry of pain leaves me as he hits me over and over again. Tiny stars flash in and out in front of me, my consciousness almost slipping away. His hand clenches around my neck, squeezing to cut off my airway.
“Ken!” I sputter in immediate panic. My hands scrabble at his, trying to pry them away from my throat. “Please, Ken!”
My pleas fall on deaf ears. He’s blacked out. Completely lost in the red-tinged fury of his violence. The hatred clenched onto his face and burning in his gaze breaks what little remains of my heart. I’m left gasping for air, looking up at the man who’s supposed to love me. Yet the only thing staring back at me is raw contempt and loathing.
How can he hate me when I’ve only ever tried to love him? What did I do wrong? What mistake did I make?
In my hysterics, as tears pour out of me and pain radiates through my body and the air leaves my lungs, I’m begging for another chance. Telling him I can do better. Try harder.
Please don’t throw me away…
“Get off my daughter!”
Mama comes out of nowhere, swinging a frying pan at Ken’s head. She’s up from her hard fall and managed to grab the first thing she could find. Her swing connects, hitting Ken across the side of his face. His hands disappear from my throat. His body’s no longer holding me down. He’s fallen sideways from the impact of Mama’s blow.
I’m coughing as I scramble up onto unsteady feet. One of my eyes is swelling shut and the room continues to spin, but one thing becomes clear in this moment.
From the sadness on Mama’s face to the blood I’m dripping.
We can’t stay here. If we want to survive the night, we have to go.
Ken won’t be on the floor clutching his head in pain for long.
“We’ve got to go. Mama…”
We scurry from the kitchen in a breathless panic, grabbing coats and purses and running out into the night’s cold in socks and slippers.
“KORINE!” Ken bellows from inside the house.
But we don’t stop. I buckle Mama in and then throw myself behind the wheel. My barely alive Geo Metro lurches from the driveway and bumbles down the street.
I don’t even know where I’m taking us. Just that it has to be somewhere far away from here.