Chapter 8 Sera
SERA
It takes me hours to fall asleep after Liev left. My body and emotions are too agitated. Finally, exhaustion and my furry, weighted blanket overwhelm me, and I fall into a restless sleep as the sky lightens outside my windows.
When I finally roll off the sofa, scrubbing dried drool from my cheek, I’m surprised to see it’s already one p.m. Groaning, I straighten my legs, feeling like I’ve been hit by a truck.
My body aches everywhere. Another shower helps loosen the tight muscles, but I avoid looking at the bruises now dotting my body.
Fuck. There is no way I’m going to be able to hide this.
Even with the two days of the weekend to heal, Brady is going to freak out, I think morosely, taking in my bruised and scratched face.
My stomach growls, but I can tell from swallowing that my throat will be too painful to eat. Ramen it is. I’m spooning up the last of my noodles when my phone dings.
I’m absolutely not disappointed when I see Hannah’s contact flash on the screen instead of Liev’s.
Hannah: I’m out running errands, so I’ll pick you up around 5. Sound good?
Shit. I bite my lip, hesitating.
It’s Saturday, which means group therapy, and I promised Hannah I’d get coffee with her beforehand.
My finger hovers over the keyboard, the temptation to cancel unbelievably strong.
How am I going to explain my injuries?
But if I don’t show up to therapy, Dr. Swan will want to talk about why and then that will lead to her deeper concerns about my “ability to open up and communicate” about my trauma.
Ugh. If it weren’t for Brady and Elizabeth, I wouldn’t even be doing this.
Me: Yup. See you then.
I put my phone on my thigh with a sigh. At least I have Hannah, even if I am not convinced the therapy is working. She’s as averse to sharing as I am, so we sit in silent solidarity together.
Just before five, I pull on black leggings and a fitted tank before layering a thick hoodie over it.
The fabric covers the bruises on my arms and legs, and I shove a knit cap onto my head arranging my hair forward so that it covers the worst of the swelling on my face.
The makeup I applied covers the livid marks on my neck and face, and after clipping my nails as short as I can, all remnants of blood are gone.
I glance at my reflection in the small mirror by the door.
See, I look normal.
However, my efforts aren’t as effective as I had hoped.
“What the hell happened to you?” Hannah gasps, her eyes wide when I slide into the passenger side of the car.
I flinch. “What do you mean?”
“Your face. You look like…” Her mouth falls open. “Did your ex come back?”
“No.” No chance of that without a Ouija board. “It’s not that bad,” I say defensively.
“Uh, yeah. It kind of is. What’s wrong with your voice?” Understanding flashes in her eyes as her gaze dips to my neck. She hasn’t told me much about what happened in her previous relationship, but I know there was abuse. It’s how we met.
Of everything Aaron wrecked, she’s the one good thing that came from it.
I’d only been to one of the group therapy sessions for domestic violence survivors when Hannah had joined.
She’d rushed in late, cheeks pink from the cold, hair falling from a loose clip, looking like the mess I felt like on the inside.
But she’d been funny and self-deprecating, and she hadn’t pushed me to bond like so many of the other women had.
Over the last few weeks, we’ve been texting, getting coffee before group, and even gone out dancing a few times. “Sera?” Her voice is careful, and as much as I’d like to avoid the whole conversation, it’s impossible.
“I went out last night and got mugged going back to my car.” It’s an approximation of the truth.
“Alone?”
“Yes, alone. I’m a big girl,” I tell her as she pulls out onto the busy street.
“You could have called me. I would have gone out.”
Shit. There’s a trace of hurt in her voice.
“I needed to be alone,” I say carefully. “For what I had planned.”
Her face creases, but then she’s distracted, gesturing angrily at the man who cut us off. “Dick!”
I laugh. Hannah comes off unassuming and sweet, but I’ve seen her temper flare a few times when she gets frustrated. Frankly, it makes me like her even more.
She grimaces. “I hate Atlanta drivers.”
“I get it.” I chuckle, relaxing back into my seat, grateful we aren’t talking about me anymore.
Hannah chatters about her day, her sister’s upcoming wedding and her mother nagging her about dating. I let the words wash over me. My brain is already drifting... to him.
“Have you heard a word I’ve said?” Hannah asks as she pulls into a parking space in front of the coffee shop.
“Sorry.” I wrinkle my nose. “I’m a little out of it today. I didn’t sleep much.”
She gives me a sympathetic smile as we hustle across the cold parking lot, but when we are seated with our coffees, any hope she’s going to let last night go disappears.
“What was your plan?” Her words catch me off guard. “Last night. You said you had to be alone.” She waggles her eyebrows comically at me. “Was it time?”
I smother a smile. Hannah may not know all the details of what happened with Aaron, but once when she was describing how hard it was to date again, I shared that I hadn’t been able to be intimate with a man since I broke up with Aaron.
“I can alone. That’s not the problem. I’m not afraid of men, or anything like that. It’s just…”
“You can’t relax?” Her voice is understanding.
“Something like that.”
It wasn’t, though. I can have an orgasm just fine on my own.
It’s just that every time I go on a date or try to hook up, my body is numb—and that frightens me.
That, and when the guy gets a certain look in his eyes, I’m waiting for the switch to flip—for him to go from a guy I want to be with, to a predator.
I’m almost twenty-five years old, and unless I figure out how to fix myself, I’m going to be alone forever.
Me, my vibrator, and maybe a cat.
Actually, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.
“But you left alone, so I’m guessing it didn’t work?” Hannah makes a face, but I know she isn’t judging me.
After opening up about my intimacy issues, she’d been all in favor of me loosening up, trying to relax. We’d gone out to a few clubs together, her willingly buying the drinks to loosen me up, but nothing has worked.
“No. But it’s the closest I’ve gotten.” My heart picks up pace as I picture Liev, and I fidget with my phone.
Hannah frowns as she glances at my phone. “I thought you said you got mugged?”
“I did. I was able to fight him off.” I gesture at my face. “I don’t think he was expecting it.”
Hannah grins. “Secret ninja operative over here.”
“That’s me,” I joke, keeping my voice light and pushing away the memories of the alley. “Tell me more about this setup your mom is trying to force on you. Are you sure you don’t want to tell your family about how Chad treated you?”
“Definitely not.” She waves her hand and I know it’s my cue to drop it. “You won’t believe the one she has this time…”
Hannah continues with her story until it’s time to leave.
I’m a single step onto the sidewalk when a hand bites through my hoodie into my upper arm. The grip locks hard enough to pinch my skin.
Moving the way I’ve trained, despite my body’s soreness, I twist away from the hold, my other arm coming up to strike down on the person’s forearm.
“You evil bitch.” The older woman snarls in my face. Her eyes are too bright, and her chest heaves with angry breaths. Ash-blonde wisps fly around her hectic-colored cheeks.
My jaw drops in surprise. I must have the worst karma in the universe. This weekend sucks.
“What is your problem, lady?” Hannah screeches, exiting the coffee shop behind me and charging forward.
Joelle Taggert’s eyes swing to my friend for a moment before her wild gaze lands back on me. Even though her makeup and hair are immaculate, I can see the dark circles beneath. The grooves along her mouth and eyes are deeper, too. She’s aged terribly over the last couple of years.
Sympathy wars with the bitter anger inside me.
“Don’t touch me.” I keep my voice flat, but we are already drawing attention through the windows and from the other shoppers walking by.
Joelle doesn’t seem to notice or care. She steps closer into my space, and I fight the urge to back up. “What did you do to my son?” She’s louder this time, her chin high, hands tight on the strap of her purse. “What did you do? I know you did something. He wouldn’t stay away like this willingly.”
Once upon a time, I liked this woman, and she liked me. We joked and shared glasses of wine at her country club while waiting for Aaron and his brother and father to finish their round of golf. Back when I thought this might be a family—a normal family—I could belong to.
Even after Aaron and I broke up, I had no animosity toward his family. Not until they began covering up his crimes.
“I have nothing to say to you.” I step sideways and attempt to go around her.
“Well, I have something to say to you.” Her heels snap hard behind me. “You won’t answer my calls, and you only respond to my letters through an attorney. What are you trying to hide, Sera?”
People are pausing on the sidewalk to watch the growing spectacle despite the stiff wind. I can feel Hannah’s eyes hot on my face, and when I glance at her, she angles her head toward her car. I give a tiny nod, and she hurries away to pull the car around.
“I trusted you. Took you into my home. I should have listened to my husband.” She sneers, but the pain on her face is clear. “You were never going to fit in. You weren’t ‘wife’ material. Not coming from where you did.”
The words slice through my heart, finding a soft spot in my armor, and I bite hard on the inside of my lip to prevent it from giving me away, by doing something so pathetic as to wobble.