12. Korine
12
KORINE
“Hands on the hood of the vehicle,” Ken orders.
“Ken, don’t do this,” I gust out. My voice sounds shaky even to my ears. Laced with unmistakable fear.
It claws away at my insides. Gone is the upbeat woman I’ve been the past couple of weeks. She fades away the moment I’m within arm’s reach of Ken and the omnipresent threat of his violence.
“Hands on the hood of the vehicle. Feet shoulder width apart.”
When I still don’t move, his cheek twitches in a subtle warning. A precursor for him snatching me by the arms and spinning me around. My hands are slammed down on the hood and my feet kicked apart.
“Ow, Ken?—”
“You were given an explicit order you refused to comply with. Do that again and you’ll be sitting in the back of my patrol car.” He cages me in against the car so that I can’t move an inch. My hands flat on the warm hood. My legs far apart enough to feel humiliating. He’s so close, I can feel his breath against my cheek when he speaks. “Are we going to do this the hard way or the easy way, Kor?”
“Hard? Easy? I don’t know what you mean?—”
“My wife,” he snarls. His stoicism vanishes for scorn. “My wife has abandoned me. She took the car I bought her—my name’s on the fucking title, on the insurance—and she’s been spending the last few weeks at another man’s home doing who knows what.”
My throat aches, my voice lost. I’ve started trembling on the spot like a spineless coward.
Like the traumatized woman that I still am…
“So, you tell me. Do you want to do this real easy or do you want to continue doing things the hard way?”
“I don’t want any way. I don’t want anything. Please.”
A moment passes where Ken seems to study my reactions—the uncontrollable quiver of my body and strained breaths coming from my lungs. The hard swallows I can’t stop as panic keeps rising up, refusing to be denied.
He eases back slightly, his harsh energy receding as he does. Instead he reaches a hand up and brushes my cheek like a lover would. With adoration and affection. “Kor,” he says softly. “This is ridiculous. Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed you? Come home.”
So many times in the past, I did. I’d nod and allow him to steer me toward the car to drive me back from where I had escaped to. Things would be nice for a few days, ’til it happened again. Almost always worse.
I clench my eyes shut and husk out another struggled breath. “Please… I just want to go.”
“You’re my wife,” he insists. “Our home is nothing without you. Do you think it’s fair what you’ve done to me? Answer me!”
The hot and cold behavior. The soft sweetness mixed with the intense scorn. His mood swings have always been impossible to predict.
A living, breathing contradiction.
Throughout our relationship, I’ve learned to shut up and take it. Always ready for a kiss or a fist.
A few tears slip free and roll down my cheeks as my imagination darkens into thoughts about where this moment could be going. No matter what I do, I’ll be in the wrong. He wields all the power and I’m at his mercy.
Ken’s wider frame presses into me, forcing me to bend even lower. He hunches over me to the point I feel the police equipment strapped to his torso digging into my spine. Violence lives and breathes in the air circling us as I prepare myself for whatever comes next—a slam of my head against the hood, his knee in my back, his hands around my neck. The violent options seem limitless.
Whatever it is, never happens.
As Ken rears closer, another car finally wanders down the road. It steadily slows at what must be an alarming sight. A police officer pinning a woman to her car, his body rubbing up against hers in a manner that’s clearly inappropriate.
He snaps upright and takes a wide step back. His hands fly to his utility belt and he nods the driver along with tight-lipped restraint.
The driver behind the wheel—a freckle-faced woman with round glasses and a small child in the backseat—doesn’t seem convinced. She eyes Ken carefully as if tempted to pull over and ask for his badge number.
Ken grits his teeth the second she eventually drives off and we’re alone again. He seems to have come to his senses about our surroundings and what he was about to do.
“Get out of my sight,” he says, his tone as steely as his face. “NOW!”
I scramble to make my escape. Within seconds, I’m locked into the Geo and pressing the gas to put as much distance between myself and Ken as possible, hands shaking on the wheel.
* * *
Flowers await me and Mama when we pull up to Blake’s trailer. Several bouquets of them sitting right in front of the door along with a stuffed bear and handwritten note. My favorite kind in my favorite color: pink cremons with white carnations mixed in.
My brows jerk together, dread sinking into my stomach like lead. I share a knowing look with Mama who’s had a traumatizing enough afternoon herself. After the escapade with the medical office turning her away, she had panicked and wandered off. I found her a block down at the bus stop, confused as to how she was supposed to get home.
My worst fears were confirmed—since it happens to be open enrollment season, Ken was able to remove us from his coverage. I had snapped at the receptionist at the medical office and promised I’d call the 1-800 number to fight the sudden removal, but she claimed it had already been processed.
Now this.
Flowers on Blake’s front door. I haven’t even had the energy to tell him what happened. He’s texted and called several times asking why I never returned to the shop.
you have ten minutes to reply. if you don’t… I’m coming to find you.
That message was fourteen minutes ago. I had finally replied telling him I was fine, but that was the end of his texts.
“He’s certainly manipulative, that husband of yours,” Mama sighs. “Who does he think he is sending you flowers like this?”
“He wants Blake to see them.” I step forward almost numbly, my walk more of a trudge than anything. “I’m throwing them out.”
“Good girl.”
Blake shows up only a few minutes later. The flowers have been disposed of and I’ve helped Mama into the shower. I draw the door to the bathroom closed to find myself on the opposite end of a glaring, jaw-clenched Blake.
“What kinda games are you playing, Kori? You disappear for two hours and barely answer my texts!”
My hand rubs my brow as if plagued by a headache. “It wasn’t on purpose. I lost track of time.”
“Then what happened?” He flicks his gaze over me in search of imaginary injuries like only a best friend would. He seems to read it off me, taking a step closer and grabbing me by the elbow to bring me over into the living room. “Kori, tell me. You saw him, didn’t you?”
“Not on purpose. I was driving back to the shop and then… then he came out of nowhere and pulled me over.”
Watching the change in Blake’s facial expression is borderline terrifying—his brows draw together over blue eyes darkening with rage and a jaw that hardens into steel. His hands clench and unclench, and his breathing goes ragged.
I haven’t even told him everything yet and already he looks tempted to spiral into a rampage. At any second he’ll tear off, heading straight for the home I shared with Ken, where he’d proceed to do things I don’t even want to think about…
I blow out a troubled breath and plop down on the sofa. “I don’t even want to deal with him anymore, Blake. But it seems like he’s not going to let go.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“No. You’re not?—”
“Kori, I’m handling it. He’s not going to come around you and fucking terrorize you like that ever again. If he doesn’t understand words, then I’ll make him understand in other ways. The whole fucking club will.”
“He’s a cop . He has the entire Pulsboro PD on his side.”
“So the fuck what?” Blake spits. His face twists into more fury. The veins protrude in his thick forearms and his fingers twitch like they’re desperate to ball up into fists again. “Whatever the fuck he thinks he’s doing is going to end.”
My gaze drops to the floor. “I need to file. Do you think… would you want to go with me?”
His anger fades for tenderness often reserved for me. He reaches a hand out and caresses my short hair as if he can’t help himself. “Yeah, of course. I’ll go with you. Tomorrow.”
“Sydney was saying I should consider a restraining order too. I took some pictures of my injuries.”
“That would be smart. It’ll create a paper trail of his abuse.”
“That’s what Sydney said.”
“We also need to get your things. It’s time, Kori. So long as you’ve got all your things there, it’s another door left open,” he says firmly. When I begin shaking my head, he cuts me off. “You won’t be alone. I’ll be with you. The MC will. We roll in ten, fifteen deep with your permission to enter the premises and grab your things. Under the law, he won’t be able to do shit. You’re legally a resident there. He’ll have to let you in to do it.”
“Blake…” I trail off. Nerves churn in my stomach just thinking about it. “I don’t know if I can…”
He crouches down so that we’re eye level. His hands reach for mine, tucking them inside his. “Look at me, Kori. We’ll be with you. I’m going to be at your side. Let him try anything. Let him raise his voice… look at you the wrong way…”
His temper takes over and he can only clench his jaw even harder at the thought. I don’t need to be a mind reader to know his head’s full of violent imaginings of all the things he wants to do to Ken.
It’s only been my pleas that’ve held him off.
“Okay,” I say softly. “If you’ll be with me.”
Blake reaches for my face, cupping my cheek and then rising up to drop a kiss on my brow. “Always, Kori.”
* * *
“Is it strange this feels… like a relief?” I ask in the passenger seat of Blake’s truck. We’re outside the courthouse where I’ve just filed for divorce in the clerk’s office. “It feels like a burden’s been lifted. We’re officially separated… and soon we’ll be divorced.”
Blake covers my hands in my lap with his. “It feels like a relief because it is one.”
“I’ll have my name back soon.”
“Korine McKibbens. The prettiest gal in school.”
I smile, my cheeks warming up. “Stop. You were crazy about Maisy Hamilton.”
“Maisy Hamilton? Seriously?” He hacks out a laugh that has me feeling ridiculous for the accusation. He cuts me a teasing look, his eyes alight with humor. “You think I wanted Maisy Hamilton?”
“You fought Mason over her.”
“I fought Mason ’cuz we were both stubborn dumbasses that refused to back down. We were horndogs who saw a girl with huge tits and got into a pissing contest. That was it.”
I laugh at his honesty. “I forgot how big of horndogs you all were.”
“Being a sixteen-year-old desperate for a girl to touch your dick will do that to you,” he admits. “But Maisy was never the girl. I was over her by the time sixth period hit.”
“The girl?”
In a rare occurrence, Blake’s ears tinge slightly red. “You already know, Kori. Don’t make me say it.”
“You never told me. Even when we dated?—”
“I was trying to play it cool. I wanted you to think…” he cracks half a grin, looking handsome and hesitant all at once. “I wanted you to think I was a ladies’ man. I could have any girl I wanted. Including…”
“Me,” I whisper and he nods. “You were trying to make me jealous?”
“I was trying to impress you. You were the prettiest girl. You were the coolest girl. You were the girl all the guys in our group wanted. Hell, I think Mace had a thing for you ‘til he backed off out of respect,” he rattles off as if these things were completely obvious. “I was trying to show you I was worthy.”
Things I never once thought about or noticed. I sit in shock for a moment. “I had no idea that’s how you felt. All the girls in our year were crazy about you. It made me… I didn’t like it.”
“How do you think I felt when you dated Jordan O’Neal? Then you two got voted on the homecoming court.”
“Jordan was a really nice guy. But it was never serious.”
“He got your first kiss. I wanted to beat his ass. Almost started a fight with him in the locker room one afternoon just ’cuz.”
“You got first other things…”
We sit in more silence for a moment ’til Blake wraps his hand around mine in my lap.
“I did,” he says, giving me an affectionate squeeze. “Something that made me the happiest guy alive. Think I didn’t stop grinning for a week.”
Rolling my eyes, I smile too. “Can we get a move on? I’d rather check more things off this list than take a stroll down our awkward teenage memory lane.”
Blake answers me with a chuckle, starting up the truck engine. We drive from the courthouse another block down to the Pulsboro Police station. I’ve intentionally asked Blake to bring me by today knowing Ken’s off this day of the week.
A middle-aged man with hairy whiskers sticking out of his ears sits at the information desk. He makes no attempt to appear friendly or helpful at all, blinking dryly as he reads the town newspaper.
“Excuse me,” I say. “I’d like to speak to Lieutenant Gillard. I have a situation to report.”
He blinks and turns to the next page without looking up. “He’s busy.”
“Do you know when he’ll be free?”
“Nope.”
I glance over my shoulder at Blake. “Then can I leave him a message?”
“Nope.”
“I need to get in contact with him.”
He flicks his eyes up at me from behind his reading glasses. “That’s too bad.”
“Hey!” Blake growls, stepping forward. He slams his palm on the desk counter. “You’re gonna stop being a lazy piece of shit and help her—or I’m gonna introduce you to my fist.”
“Blake—”
“Get your hands off my desk,” says the clerk stiffly, though he flinched at Blake’s aggression.
“What’s going on here?”
The three of us look up to find Lieutenant Gillard wandering over with the amused smile he’d worn in the Buy N’ Save parking lot. His lips stretch wider at the sight of me, and he beckons me over.
I don’t hesitate to follow, pushing past the waist-high door flap separating the lobby area from the rest of the station. I let Blake know I’ll be okay with a reassuring nod.
“Mrs. Stricklin,” Gillard says in a jovial tone. “What can I do for you? Stricklin’s off today, but surely you know that?—”
“Ken and I have separated. I need to file a police report and restraining order,” I interrupt. I watch his smile drop off and his confusion emerge with a knit of his brows, then he seems to notice the gash above my brow. I know because his eyes shift across my face, tracking the remnants of my injuries. They end on the healing split of my lip.
“Mrs. Stricklin… Korine …”
“I have photos. I took them a few days after the incident. They show the extent of the injuries.”
“Korine, let’s slow down a second. You’re not implying—you’re saying Stricklin caused all this?” He gestures to my face as if suddenly he’s repulsed by the fading bruises he sees. He takes half a step back to survey me all over. “He hasn’t said a word to any of us. He’s been acting like it’s business as usual.”
“Please, I’d rather skip any personal talk?—”
“I’m sure whatever happened between the two of you can be handled… in a more discreet manner.”
A chill runs down my spine. “Lieutenant, I was attacked. I’ve been harassed. It’s my right to file a report about what’s happened to me.”
“Stricklin’s got a big career ahead of him.”
“His career has nothing to do with this. He abused me.”
“Many encounters like this are complicated. Oftentimes, neither party’s innocent. There’s guilt with both sides,” Gillard explains, raising a brow at me. “You realize if we went down that road—if he makes any allegations against you—we’d have to do our due diligence to investigate? If you put your hands on him at all, if you left a scratch on him, you could be in serious trouble?—”
“Me?! My eye was swollen shut! I could barely walk!”
“I’d have to hear Stricklin’s version of the story. I’m sure his is more than a little different.”
“Is that Korine I hear?” Captain Vargas calls from the other side of the station floor. He maneuvers through the short maze of police officers’ desks and comes over to join us. He resembles a tanned Santa Claus ‘til he seems to catch on that our conversation isn’t going well. Then he’s glancing from Gillard to me with a stroke of his beard. “Korine, whatever you’re here about, I’m sure this can be handled in house.”
“That’s what I have been telling her,” Gillard says with a nod of his head. “There’s no reason to do things based off emotion and go ruining anybody’s career.”
“Never mind. I’ll see myself out.” I take a step back to turn around.
“Now, Korine, we can talk to him?—”
“Don’t bother. I’m being emotional, remember?”
They call after me several more times, but I don’t dignify them with any responses or even a look back. Blake’s still in the lobby when I return. He rushes toward me with concern etched onto his face, looking as if he was on the verge of storming into the rest of the station if I hadn’t returned just now.
“You alright? How’d it go?”
“I’d rather not talk about it. Can we just get out of here?”
Blake puts his arm around me and steers me from the building, but not before he tosses a furious look over his shoulder. He seems to sense, even without me explaining what happened, that I didn’t get to fill out a report.
Thankfully, instead of badgering me about it, he drives me around town. We stop at a couple different apartment complexes, where he takes me to see what’s available.
“For you and Sunny,” he says, brushing a strand of my hair back. “You’ll have your own space.”
“I can’t afford this apartment, Blake. Not yet.”
“I’ll help you. So you’re back on your feet.”
With a stubborn shake of my head, I push past him and the leasing agent toward the door. “I appreciate the offer, but it’s too much.”
Blake doesn’t fight me on it. We thank the leasing agent of the Sunset View apartments and then head for his truck. He waits ‘til I’m buckled in and then grabs my hand to catch my attention.
“It’s gonna be okay, Kori,” he says. “Things are messy right now. But it’ll get better.”
I smile in thanks, and though everything still feels uncertain, there’s one thing I’m certain of.
Blake will be with me every step of the way.
* * *
Blake wasn’t kidding when he said the MC would be tagging along to pick up my things. We pull up with at least
a quarter of the members in tow. Mason’s even brought his old lady, Sydney, for female moral
support. By the way she walks with her hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed into slits, she’s
tempted to confront Ken herself.
Because it’s Saturday morning, most of the neighborhood’s home. Across the street in his front lawn, Mr. Abrams forgets about the water hose in his hand and watches the conga line of motorcycles rumble through.
Likewise, Mrs. Doyle’s out walking her miniature schnauzer, stopping in her tracks at the sight of bikers in her neck of the woods. Her leashed white ball of fluff begins jumping around and barking at us.
For living in a town known for its ruthless motorcycle club, you’d think they’d realize it’s par for the course—or are they alarmed because they know what a visit from the Steel Kings means? Especially when they’ve parked in front of the house of a known police officer.
Their prolonged stares go ignored.
Blake hops out of the truck he’s chosen to drive over (in order to carry my things), and comes around to the passenger side where I am. All morning long, he’s been suspiciously calm. Standing in the front driveway of the house Ken and I called a home, he’s zen-like, his touch featherlight when he palms my shoulder, and his voice a low rasp of reassurances.
He’s doing this for me. Putting me ahead of his anger.
He knows how difficult this is. That I’ve agonized over it from the moment I turned up bruised and broken on his doorstep.
“Nothing’s gonna happen to you,” he says, making sure to look me in the eye. “We’ll be with you every step.”
I push down the complicated feelings, inhaling a breath, remembering the big girl panties I’ve got on, and give a nod.
“We heading in?” Mason calls from where he and Sydney wait a few feet off.
Blake links his fingers with mine at our sides. “Yeah, let’s pull off the fucking Band-Aid.”
Behind us, Mason signals for most of the guys to stay put. Presumably to keep an eye out on the neighborhood—and to make sure Ken’s cop friends don’t turn up. A handful come along with us.
Every step toward the door feels heavy, requiring so much energy out of me, I feel like I’m running on fumes by the time we’re pressing the doorbell.
It’s not that I’m afraid Ken will hurt me. I’m afraid Blake will hurt him. I’m worried he and the MC will get into some kind of brawl, and they’ll pay the price for Ken’s actions.
We’re left in limbo for several seconds.
The doorbell trills through the house to no answer. I glance at the patrol car and Escalade parked in the double car driveway. He’s home.
Blake loses patience and smashes his finger into the button of the doorbell a second time.
The curtains rustle from the second story window that’s the master bedroom. He’s seen us. He’s simply… refusing to answer.
I sigh and turn to go. “We should leave.”
“Hell nah,” Blake says. His hand closes into a fist and he beats on the door like he’s the police, not the man whose door he’s banging on.
It snaps open mid pound. Ken’s scowling, his nostrils flaring and his left eye giving a subtle twitch every few seconds. His tight-lipped mouth pulls back to bare his teeth at us.
“Is there a reason why you’re pounding on the door of my home at ten in the morning?”
Blake steps toward him like he’s about to bump chests with him. “We’re here to collect Korine’s things. Move aside and let us in and there won’t be no trouble.”
Ken ignores him. His eyes flick over to me, alight with icy malice. “You’re unbelievable. Bringing these people to our home. How could you do this to me?”
“I just want my things.”
He throws his head back in laughter. “Your things? Your things are my things! I bought you every damn thing you own, Kor. Including that Geo Metro you’ve been driving around in. I expect it returned.”
“Move out of the fucking way.”
Blake bulldozes past the threshold with a swipe of his arm. Ken’s knocked sideways by several steps, clearing the path for Blake. The others and I quickly follow.
The once quiet house fills with noise and movement. Mason and Sydney help direct the guys on what I’ve said I needed help packing my and Mama’s things. Blake’s grabbed hold of my hand and leads me upstairs to the bedroom I once shared with Ken.
“Go ahead,” he says, letting go. He takes up post in the doorway, a thinly veiled attempt to keep Ken out and ensure I have some privacy. “Get all your things.”
I don’t hesitate grabbing anything of mine within reach and stuffing my duffle bag. My passport, birth certificate, reading glasses, medications, and so many other things get shoved into the bag until it’s so full Blake’s coming over to remove it from my shoulder. I move onto the other bags I’ve brought with me and fill those too.
Clothes. Shoes. Underwear. Skincare and haircare stuff.
When I’m unsure there’s much else I can snag, I turn to Blake with a relieved smile. “That’s all. He can keep everything else.”
“You sure about what you’re doing, Kor. Think real carefully.”
Blake and I glance over at the doorway to find Ken’s wandered up. His glare’s laser-focused on me, his face a tight mask of scorn. He’s barely containing himself, barely managing to not explode in a fit of rage like he normally would.
Only Blake and the MC’s presence keeps him in check.
“Get the fuck away from her!” Blake growls.
“This is my house.”
“I don’t give a fuck! You’re lucky you haven’t been knocked out.”
Tension cinches the air. Invisible but unbearable.
Blake abandons my side on a pulse of explosive anger. In a couple short strides he’s coming up on Ken with his fists ready for violence.
“Blake, don’t!”
He stops himself only within five feet of Ken.
Ken’s glower thaws into a small smile. “She’s got you trained. Her own personal attack dog. This is your last chance,” he says, glancing back at me. An eerie quality develops in his tone. “You walk out that door with him, you will come to regret it.”
His words stay with me the rest of the way home to Blake’s trailer. They echo inside my head. When I close my eyes, I see the loathing frozen in his gaze. The same face he always has when he’s doling out his punishments.
What does he have planned this time? What else is he going to do other than cancel Mama’s insurance and demand I return him the Geo Metro?
“You alright?” Blake asks as we brake for a stoplight.
I put on a strained smile as my answer on the outside. On the inside, I’m still feeling broken.