THIRTY-ONE
Madelyn
It’s been a week since I was released from the hospital, and I still don’t regret my decision to come home with Jaxson. At the time, I didn’t know that he had moved out of the apartment we used to share. I guess it’s to be expected, but part of me was hoping to be in that familiar space surrounded by memories of happier times.
I was surprised to learn that he bought a house almost a year ago.
I fell in love immediately when I saw the beautiful old house. It’s something I could have pictured back when I had hopes and dreams of spending my life with him. That’s something I’ve kept to myself.
It’s an old farmhouse, but Jaxson has updated and renovated almost everything. He managed to modernize the house, but still keep the original charm. With three bedrooms and two bathrooms, it’s far too large for him alone. Simple curiosity drove me to ask him why he bought such a big house, but he dodged the question.
The relationship between me and Jaxson is complicated.
Sometimes, it feels like we were never apart. But then one of us remembers everything that’s happened and things between us end up strained. There are too many unanswered questions. Too many unspoken words. Too many secrets and lies. One day we’ll need to clear the air between us. It has to happen or else neither one of us will ever be able to move forward. One day soon we’ll talk, but today is not that day.
Today, my babysitters are trying to coax me out of my shell, and out of the house. My sisters mean well, but they don’t understand. They can’t possibly understand the chaos inside my head, the twisted and tangled emotions that plague me every minute of every day.
Some days are better than others, but it’s hard to sort through the shit in my head when I never get a minute alone. Someone is always here. Always hovering. Always watching with sympathetic eyes. Today it’s my sisters, yesterday was Hailee, the day before it was my parents. Hell, even Jaxson’s best friend Drake has been by. And Holden practically lives here.
We’re all a little fucked up after surviving my nightmare.
David almost killed me and I’m lucky to be alive. I know that’s not easy for my family and friends. I’m not ignorant. I know they suffered too. One man turned everyone’s world upside down and it’s going to take time for life to feel right again. I know they mean well. They want to help, and I love them for it, but having someone by my side all the time...it gets overwhelming.
They’re suffocating me, and right now all I need is a little time to breathe.
So, no. I’m not interested in a day out shopping. I have zero desire to go to the salon. Maybe soon, but not today. Besides, I have a scheduled phone call with Autumn—the therapist I saw when I was away at school—that I cannot miss. I haven’t told anyone I contacted her, but I know that this isn’t a battle I can fight alone. I’m going to need the love and support my family and friends have been providing, but they have to allow me to do things on my terms, to heal in my own way.
David did more damage than I could have ever imagined. He left scars that will never heal. Stole things from me that I can never get back. Took pieces of me that weren’t his to have.
No more.
I will not allow him to take anything more from me.
David stood before me with a gun pointed at my unborn child with intent to kill both of us. Had he succeeded, he would have broken the hearts of everyone I love. He failed.
But something happened in that moment. When I stared down the barrel of that gun, something inside of me raged. Almost as if a switch was flipped, the fear sparked a flame burning hot and bright. A tiny ember that grew bigger and came to life. And with that spark came a realization.
I’m stronger than the weak woman I became with him.
I’m a fucking fighter.
I may have weak moments, but I am not weak.
I may be a little bent, but I am not broken.
I will face my demons, battle my depression, and find the happy ending that I deserve.
I’m a fucking survivor.
The conversation with my therapist was eye-opening.
Autumn was thrilled with the progress I’ve been able to make on my own. She was impressed with my survivor mentality and my ability to admit that I can’t do this alone. I’ve come a long way since she talked to me last, though I’ve been through so much more.
I’ve been through hell and back, but I came out stronger.
Like before, Autumn encourages me to open up to someone other than her. Unlike before, this time I’m actually listening. It’s not healthy to keep everything inside, and while she’s there to support me in a professional capacity, it’s important that I allow others to support me as well. In order to truly heal, I have to let someone in.
Jaxson is that someone. Even when I denied it and pushed him away, he has always been my someone. Even when I lied to him, and to myself.
It will always be him.
It’s going to be a hard conversation to have, but a necessary one.
If there’s any hope for a happy future, I have to open up about my past.
Jaxson made sure to clear the house tonight.
Ignoring all protests, he assured my family that I’m in good hands and told them I needed a break. Now the two of us are alone and about to have an extremely difficult conversation.
I haven’t told anyone the details of David’s abuse. Sure, they have a general idea of what I dealt with for the two years we were married, but the reality is much worse. Honestly, I’m lucky to bear only few physical scars from my time in hell. Most of my scars are mental, but those are the ones more difficult to live with.
I meet Jaxson outside when the sun goes down, where despite the muggy summer air, he has a fire going in the fire pit. On the table—between two big, cushioned patio chairs—is a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses.
Alcohol isn’t a healthy coping mechanism, I know, but it’ll sure as hell make this conversation a little easier.
Moving slowly, I take a seat in one of the chairs and make myself as comfortable as possible. I’m still sore from my injuries and will be for some time, although I’ve stopped taking the pain medication Dr. Richardson prescribed because I don’t like the way it makes me feel.
Jaxson sits in the other chair, close enough if I need him, but keeping enough distance between the two of us to give me space. He always knows exactly what I need.
Several minutes pass before he breaks the silence.
“Mads…” he starts, running his hand over his hair. “I know you want to talk, and I’ll sit here and listen silently if that’s what you need. I already know that this won’t be easy for you to talk about, or easy for me to hear, but I want you to know that no matter what...I love you. Nothing you say is going to change that.”
I nod, giving him a soft smile. A huge part of me wants to say it back, because I do. Even after all this time. Even through the mess of emotions and feelings I have to wade through. My love for Jaxson is absolute. I never stopped loving him. I only lied to myself, foolishly thinking I could live my life without him. And that...that is one of my biggest regrets.
But tonight isn’t about me and Jaxson. Tonight is about the physical, verbal, and emotional abuse I suffered at the hands of a sociopath.
I don’t know yet what the future holds for me and Jaxson, but I know that we absolutely cannot move forward unless he knows the truth.
Closing my eyes for a minute, I take several deep breaths to compose myself. When I open them again, I find his brilliant hazel eyes watching me with so much love.
“I didn’t realize it at the time, but it all started on our wedding night. David was...rougher than he’d ever been. More demanding. More...dominant.”
Glancing at Jaxson, I see the tightness in his face that he’s trying too hard to hide. The tick in his tightly clenched jaw. He says nothing, only waits for me to continue.
“It wasn’t a slow build-up after that. The first week, while we were still at the B and B, was good, but once we were home...it’s like someone flipped a switch. I didn’t recognize him anymore. The first time he hit me…” I sigh, trying to keep my composure.
“The first time was about a week after we moved into our house. He was working and came home frantic and angry. Apparently, he’d been calling, but I didn’t hear my phone over the music. I had it loud while I cleaned and unpacked.” —Jax nods, likely remembering when we moved into our apartment— “He...um...he accused me of cheating. Said I ignored his calls because I was too busy ‘spreading my legs for the bartender.’”
I scoff, remembering how ridiculous he sounded. “He wouldn’t listen to reason. Nothing I said mattered. I tried walking away to avoid the argument, but he grabbed my arm, eventually throwing me to the floor. I tried to tell him, tried to convince him of the truth, but the force of his hand across my face silenced me quickly. I was so fucking shocked. I couldn’t believe it actually happened.”
Twisting the lid from the bottle of tequila, I pour a shot and down it quickly. I savor the warm burn from the alcohol and pick up where I left off.
“He looked surprised, too.” I say, remembering the confused look in his eyes. “He looked at his hand like it had betrayed him. I could see the regret in his eyes, but I didn’t care. He immediately tried to apologize, but no amount of words could take back the fact that he hit me. I ran away from him. Locked myself in the bedroom. He never came after me. He eventually left. I still don’t know where he went that night. I never asked. Didn’t seem to matter in the grand scheme of things, but I guess I’ll never know.”
I shrug, tipping back another shot as I hear Jaxson murmur.
“Fucking, Christ.”