CHAPTER 11 | Abby
?CHAPTER 11
Abby
“W here have you been ?” Meredith yells through the phone.
Dallas watches me intently from where he’s moved to the bar. I smile, hoping that’s enough reassurance that it’s nothing to worry about. He nods before disappearing into the kitchen.
Finally, I answer Meredith. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a bit absent this weekend.”
“A bit? I haven’t heard from you since Friday, and you were drunk at that point. I had no idea if you were okay or not. And not to be petty—actually, no. I do mean to be petty this time. I was not about to contact Sam. He’s never any help.”
“I’m okay.” I can’t bear to tell her what happened.
“Are you, though? I heard through the grapevine that some shit went down. I heard Sam hit you. Did he hit you again, Abby?” When I don’t respond, she goes off. “Abigail Cooper, please, so help me God, if that man, no, boy , hit you again, I will do worse to him. He will have hell to pay. Please tell me you called the cops. And please tell me you are done with his ass.”
I suppose there’s nowhere else to hide. Letting a long breath go, I start telling her what happened. Every detail. I tell her how I saw Sam cheating but didn’t confront him and instead decided to get drunk and lash out. I tell her about Sam sending Shane to “check on me.” I explain where I’ve been all weekend. And when I tell her about Dallas, a smile creeps across my lips. She listens the whole time, not saying a word. When I finish, she remains silent for a moment, taking in all the information.
“This guy Dallas. You trust him?” she asks.
I look over at the bar and see him watching me, now eating his own plate of mozzarella sticks. The corner of his mouth ticks up when our eyes meet, and I don’t turn away. “I do,” I say, still staring, the smile slowly growing.
I hear a heavy sigh through the phone before she continues. “You know you can crash in my dorm if you need to.”
I finally break my gaze with Dallas. Turning back to take a sip of water, I say, “I know, but I feel safe with him. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s like a knight in shining armor kind of thing and I haven’t seen past that yet, but for now, I feel safe.”
“Okay. I trust you. I just don’t want him to take advantage of you after so much trauma. But you know I’m only a call away. I’ll drop everything for you. You know that right?”
“Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t call or text you sooner. I think I’ve been in such a state of panic all weekend, and I haven’t had a chance to even try processing what happened.” Talking to her has eased some of my nerves. I needed someone else to talk to about this. It feels good to get this whole relationship off my chest. After carrying something so heavy around for over a year, it becomes like a weighted backpack that you can’t put down. I’ve just gotten so used to carrying it that it started feeling normal. But then I talk to Dallas and Meredith about it, and I’m reminded it isn’t normal. That’s not how it’s supposed to be.
“Don’t apologize. I’m just glad you’re okay and have a big strong man there to protect you.” I hear her laugh on the other end, so I laugh with her, relief washing over me.
I place my phone back on the table after we say our goodbyes and I love yous. Dallas wanders back over, takes his seat across from me, and nibbles on the last piece on his plate. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. That was my friend Meredith. I hadn’t updated her at all about what went down this weekend, so needless to say, she was pretty worried. But she’s good now.”
“Good. I’m glad you’ve got a friend to talk to about all this.”
***
T he clock on the stove lets me know it’s almost time for dinner as we arrive back at Dallas’s apartment. He kicks off his shoes and heads straight to his room to change. I plop down on the couch trying my hardest to avoid scrolling through social media. That’s the last thing I need right now. I just need to fly under the radar for a while. Looking around the quiet apartment, the water from the shower a welcoming monotonous static, I am surprised at how relatively clean this place is especially since two guys live here. I wonder who the clean freak is. When Dallas returns, he has a plain black tee on and a pair of sweats. Realizing I haven’t showered since Friday, I glance toward the open bathroom door.
“Can I take a shower?” I ask.
“Of course. Let me grab you a towel,” he says, moving toward the hall closet. As I carry my things in, Dallas hangs a towel on the rack next to the shower. “How hot do you want it? I’ll help you with the faucet. It’s a little tricky in these older buildings.”
“Oh, um, hot, but not scorching, I guess.”
He leans over the edge of the tub, bracing an arm on the wall. I notice the tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve again. He pushes off the wall, turns around, and catches me staring. He smiles but doesn’t say anything. “If it’s too hot, just turn it to the right a little. I’ll be in the kitchen making some food if you need anything. Are you craving anything? Otherwise, I was just going to make a pizza.” He stands halfway out the door peering over his shoulder.
“Pizza sounds great. Thanks. I won’t be long. Just need to decompress a bit.”
“No worries. Water’s included in rent, so take all the time you need.” He smiles before shutting the door.
As I strip out of my clothes, the fabric of my shirt rubs against my cheek. A fresh reminder of Friday night. I wince as I force the fabric past it and pull it off my head. Steam has already started collecting in the room, making the mirror fog up. I wipe a circle onto the mirror. Bracing my hands on the sink, I force myself to look at the damage on my face.
The bruise is bright. The blues and purples showing through my foundation blend like a watercolor painting. My eyes look, and feel, permanently puffy. I look down to see the fading bruises on my wrist. I’m so sick of crying, but it’s the only thing that keeps me from doing something stupid. I wish I could scream the pain away. I squeeze my eyes shut and force my legs to pull me into the shower.
The temperature is perfect. It soaks my hair, running down the length of my back and splashing on the bottom of the tub. I let the water run down my face and coat every inch of my body. The longer I stand there, the more the memories of the weekend flood my mind. I turn the water hotter, attempting to feel something through this numbness.
I cannot keep doing this anymore. Not with Sam. Not to myself. I need to get out. I need to be done. I feel my cheeks get hot and the knot in my throat forms as reality sets in on what I know I have to do. However, the fear of this decision creates a pit in my stomach. Is it even possible? The tears come as the fear builds, but I can’t feel myself crying. The salty tears mix with the hot fresh water. The steam engulfs me as I slump to the floor letting every emotion out at once. The water pours over me like a waterfall, and I secretly hope it will sweep me away.