5. Denver
For the last two days,I have kept myself bottled up in my house, trying to hide from the nightmares that were keeping me awake at night.
The attack a couple of weeks ago was one thing, but I’d managed to move past that. It was an isolated issue that was resolved. But this—he—I’d made a mistake, and now, I couldn’t outrun the terror his voice induced.
He knew where I was.
He’d said he’s coming.
Talk about a way to reset all the work you’d done for yourself over the last couple of years. It was a sad state of affairs, but it’s just how things could happen. One event, minor or major, could trigger you in irreparable ways. Resetting all of that hard work was heartbreaking.
I wasn’t saying I couldn’t fix myself again.
I could.
I would.
Just in time. I couldn’t fix it overnight. Sad, but truer than I’d like it to be.
I needed to leave, to go somewhere new. But where? Everything I owned was here. I didn’t have liquid assets to just pick up and start over. I’d have to find new doctors, new therapy places. The whole thing was a lot of work that wasn’t even wrapped around the actual moving process.
The whining coming from my dog brought me back to the here and now. Poor Jersey had run herself ragged the last few hours.
His voice. The menace. I’d tried to ignore it, but then I fell asleep…the dream—the reality that he could have been here. He could have done those things to me again.
Tears rolled down my cheeks as I ignored the ringing cell phone. The knocks on the door earlier had put me into a state of fight or flight. Which let’s face it, for me was just to hide. I’d locked myself in the closet, a bat on the floor beside me and Jersey in my lap.
I was rocking in place, trying to calm myself.
I knew I was safe here. But…there was always a but.
He knew where I was, and that stirred up all the bad things I’d survived.
I wasn’t so sure I could survive all of that again.
I just wasn’t willing to chance it.
The night I’d run came flooding back. Hitting me like a gut punch. I’d escaped him and now…I was right back in that mouse trap trying to pull my head free of the bar before it crushed the life out of me.
I absolutely hated getting dressed up to be shown off all night. Full make-up, a tight dress that showed off my perfect body. His words, not mine. He had me in a dress that I wasn’t even sure I could sit down in, let alone breathe. It showed off enough skin to make me uncomfortable.
He’d made me try it on earlier then proceeded to strip me out of it and have his way with me. I couldn’t put in the emotional effort needed and that got me forcibly taken. He liked to be in control. To make me submit. It wasn’t submission—no, it was fear. I shut down for the few minutes it took him to get off, then cleaned myself back up.
All of this for something that meant nothing to me. I had to do this for him and not me. What Tyrone wanted, he got. This was for his job. His clients. His friends.
He was no longer the man I thought I loved—hadn’t been for so long now.
He was a monster in a tailored three-piece suit.
I had my own accomplishments I’d like to celebrate, but I couldn’t do that. My achievements didn’t matter. Not that he knew about any of them. I couldn’t tell him. He’d probably kill me from pure jealousy. God forbid, I was independent, used my mind, and gave myself an escape from this reality.
If he knew that I wrote books. Had my own identity that wasn’t Denise Walters, wife of the esteemed Tyrone Walters of Moore amp; Associates… That I had an agent, made my own money. All of it was under my pseudonym, where he could never get it. He’d never know about any of it. I had a PO Box and used my agent’s office for everything else. She would then forward everything to me at this PO Box.
She knew it all and was the one outsider I’d put my trust into. She was based in Chicago, so it made things a lot easier that she wasn’t just around the corner. Ya know?
She was the one who was helping me to get where I needed to be to get free of this life.
I had a backup plan, you see.
One day…I would use it.
For tonight, I’d have to smile, be courteous, and hopefully find a dark corner of this ballroom to occupy until it was time to leave.
Three hours.
I could do this.
With my clutch gripped tight, I moved closer to his side, making sure I was a step behind him as we exited the elevator. Why we needed to stay at this hotel—it was all about his status. He had to show off for anyone he thought was looking.
Tyrone’s boss, Lucien Moore, stood at the ballroom entrance, greeting his patrons.
“It’s so good to see you, Denise, you look lovely tonight.”
I smiled, nodding slightly. “Thank you, sir. Nice to see you again.”
As I talked, he leaned in to kiss my cheek and gave an awkward one-armed hug. Which I had seen him do to the others before us. He was a nice man. Kind-hearted, and he seemed to be a fair employer. The agents that worked for him were all very nice. I could only hope and pray none of them were closet psychos like the one I was married to.
I wanted to get out.
I just had to do it when things were right.
Safe.
It would happen. With the help of my agent and a family friend, I had the ball rolling. I was biding my time till I could escape.
I should have listened to my aunt all those years ago when she’d said to not get married. She’d said, “Honey child, men are just too much work. Get a dog, you’ll be happier.”
I should have gone with the puppy, an apartment on the river, and focused on my career. Instead, I fell for the handsome young man with a million-dollar smile and a wicked sense of humor.
That humor quickly turned into hate, gaslighting, and pure evil.
I didn’t know what had caused him to change; it was so gradual, I hadn’t seen it coming. Not until that first punch to my jaw.
I’d pulled the button off his favorite shirt, so he’d had to wear something less suitable. Made him eggs and bacon for breakfast, when I knew he was on a three-day fast, and then the kicker, I’d misplaced his car keys. All of that was a bunch of horseshit.
We walked past a group to the right, and he suddenly jerked me to the left, the small alcove let him push me into the wall, my elbow thwacking against it.
“What in the fuck was that?” he snarled.
I thought frantically. What had I done? Nothing.
“You fucking my boss now, you whore?”
“What?” My voice cracked. The look in his eyes…I was scared to death.
Where would he get that kind of an idea though? I barely knew anything about the man.
Then it hit me like a brick to the face.
The hug.
The kiss on the cheek.
“No, of course not. I—” My words cut off when he squeezed my arm, turning my wrist slightly. The pain sent a sharp pain through my entire body.
“You let him touch you. Kissing him. Really, you stupid bitch? Why do you make me do this to you? You know I’d not have to punish you if you’d stop throwing yourself at other men.”
“I’m not!”
Speaking up for myself had been the wrong thing to do. He twisted my wrist this time. The pop of something had my knees going weak. The urge to vomit swirled up my gut. I tried to jerk away; it only made the pain worse.
“You’re going to excuse yourself. Go up to the room and wash that whore make-up off. Wait for me. I’ll be up in a few, and we will be discussing your whoring around then. I don’t want to punish you.” He cupped my cheek, his eyes meeting mine. “I love you, even when you’re embarrassing me.”
He tried to kiss me, but I pulled back. That had been yet another mistake on my part tonight.
The first hit sent me to the floor. My hands cupped my face to keep him from doing it again. It didn’t matter. He used his foot on my hip, back, thighs. Until I was nothing but a ball of limbs on the floor. Then the real torture started. I had to endure his menacing voice in my ear as he told me all about my transgressions. How this was my fault. He didn’t want to be this man, but I made him this way.
“If you would only listen to me. I try to give you the best life possible. I pay your bills, let you stay home and take care of me, and this is how you repay me?”
I tried to protest, to get a word in edgewise, but it was no use. All that got me was a fat lip. I endured it until he was finished. I felt weak, useless…not worth anything. Which was what he wanted. It was always what he wanted.
That was ending tonight.
“Get me a drink and go clean yourself up.”
I got him his drink. Made it extra special for him.
Later, after my shower and time to make sure he was truly passed out from the sleeping pills I’d slipped into his glass of bourbon, I made my escape. I took a cab back home.
“Please wait, I won’t be more than twenty minutes.”
I’d been practicing for this day.
“It’s your dime, lady.”
I nodded at him and got out. I made my way inside and changed my clothes. The jeans and t-shirt would help me blend in. With my steps sure and my need to hurry, I went through the house and gathered up a few little things that meant something to me, things I couldn’t pack away before.
The silver-framed pictures of my parents, my aunt, and the few I had of me as a child—I slid them into the duffel bag on my shoulder. I quickly made my way to the office and into his ‘secret’ safe. Thankfully, he wasn’t as smart as he thought he was. I took the envelope of money that I’d managed to hide from him by burying it under some papers and shoved it into my bag.
A quick stop into the kitchen and I’d be ready. I put a few bottles of water, tea, and soda in the zippered cooler bag. Straight out of the fridge, they would be okay for a while. I emptied some ice into it as well. I had a big trip ahead of me, and I wanted to be prepared to just go and not have to stop for a while.
I grabbed the backpack hidden in the hall closet and filled it with snacks and all of the nonperishable things I could manage. Like I said, I’d been preparing for this for a while, so it was a good bit. The last stop was to grab the bag that I had hidden in the garage. All new things bought and packed away without him knowing.
Then I was out of the house, all of my trackable items left behind for him.
The tears burning my eyes were from relief, disbelief, and the fear that I wouldn’t get out of here fast enough. It was just after one in the morning. I had time. I had to stay positive.
“Where to, lady?”
“The nearest bus station.”
Thirty-five minutes later, I was standing in line for a bus ticket. I had a plan. Bus it out of California and stop in Oregon. From there I would fly to Vegas, then to Chicago. I would stop in and see my agent. Get my life in order by picking up my new identity paperwork. I would be leaving Denise Walters in the shadows. I would then fly to Colorado, spend a few days getting my bearings, get a little makeover, and rent a car. I would drive to Texas and start my new life.
The people who used to know me as Denise had either passed away or moved away, so it was as fresh of a start in an old place as I could get. Denver Rhoades was a semi-popular author with a good following. She made her own money, and come this time two weeks from now, she would be in a better place. Happy and starting her journey of healing.