11. Coraline
11
Coraline
One month ago
Things with Nash have continued to get worse. His manic drinking episodes used to only happen once a week, never more than twice. This week, it's happened almost everyday. I can’t keep living like this.
I took the day off today so I could pack some overnight bags for the kids and take them to my grandparents house. Granna and Pappy are vaguely aware of the situation, but they understand how serious it is—they drove two hours to meet us halfway. The kids think they’re going to spend a fun filled weekend with them, which isn’t a lie.
I’m just glad that they’re oblivious to what’s actually going on with Nash. They understand that something weird is going on and that he’s been more grouchy, and I've tried my best to hide the worst of everything from them as much as possible. But it’s hard to do that when the evidence of his abuse is everywhere. I’ve lost count of all of the holes he’s punched in our bedroom over the past month.
I’ve been quietly collecting evidence against Nash. I know that I need to have solid evidence before I can even attempt to put him behind bars. He’s been too drunk to notice—or care about—anything beyond expecting dinner to be ready when he stumbles in late at night, and me waiting for him in his bed. I don’t even call it our bed anymore. There’s no love left here. Whatever we had is long gone. These past few months have been the darkest, most painful of my entire life.
Even though I want to, I know that I can’t just up and leave. If I do that, he will come after me. I’m afraid that if I push him too hard, he will actually kill me or do something to my children. This is the reality that I'm living in.I feel like I’m living a double life. I’m so tired of pretending that I’m okay and like I’m not actually screaming and dying on the inside.
This is really going to happen tonight. There’s so many ways that this could go wrong.My anxiety is starting to get the best of me.
When I turn into my driveway, my heart stops. Nash is home. He hasn’t come home early in almost a month. It’s only four p.m.—maybe he just came home to change before heading back out to whatever bar he frequents. I’ll just go inside and play it cool. Odds are, he won’t even notice that the kids aren’t with me anyways.
I sit in the car for a moment, gripping the steering wheel. Deep breath in and deep breath out. No big deal. I can do this.
I step out of the car and wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. My hands tremble as I fluff my hair. I flip the mental switch in my mind so I can pretend.
Pretend that I still love him. Pretend like everything is just fine. Pretend like I'm actually someone else. It's the only way I have been able to make it this far. The only way I have been surviving—keeping him from spiraling and falling apart.
The real me though? I hate him, but that doesn't keep me or my children safe.Love—or at-least the false illusion of it—does.
When I walk inside of the house, the first thing that I notice is that all of the lights are off.
Nash is sitting at the kitchen table with his hands folded together, like he's been waiting on me.
His glassy, bloodshot eyes lock onto mine as soon as I approach him. He doesn't do anything, just sits there and glares at me with a look of hatred.
The kitchen reeks of stale liquor and sweat. Nash looks like he hasn’t showered in a week—his hair's flat and greasy and he has a five o'clock shadow. He's even still wearing the same dirty clothes from two days ago. The same stained flannel with a hole in the right sleeve. The same gray sweat pants with dirt stains on the knees.
There's a thick and electric tension in the room that hums beneath the surface like the calm before the storm or like a power line that is ready to snap.
“It’s about time you came home," he says softly. My heartbeat thunders in my chest. He picks up the bottle of liquor from the table and takes a long swig. “Where were you?”
A simple question, but I have to answer it the way he wants me to or he will lose it.
“I was just out for a drive. I needed to clear my head a little bit. Work has been really stressing me out.” I didn’t lie to him. I did need to clear my head today and work has been stressful recently.
“Oh really?” He slowly shakes his head, like a bull getting ready to charge. “You see, I think you’re hiding something, Coraline." He puts the bottle back down on the table. "I’m going to ask you one more time. Where. Were. You.” He spat as he enunciated each word.
“I’m not lying to you baby. I would never do that.” I start to walk towards him to attempt to calm him down.
I can see the rage swirling around in his dark brown eyes. I know if I don’t calm him down now, it’s going to get worse.
Nash picks up the glass liquor bottle, without warning, and hurls it across the room.
It explodes against the kitchen wall with a deafening crack. The brown liquor runs down the wall and starts to pool on the floor. I flinch, but I don't scream. Any sound that I make can make his temper worse.
Slowly—carefully—I slide my hand into back pocket and wrap my fingers around my cellphone.
I hit the button on the side of the phone five times, a trick I recently learned, to call 911 without alerting Nash.
After the fifth time, my phone lightly buzzes once—this confirms that the notification went through.
I try my best to keep my poker face on so he doesn't know what I just did. I can only pray that they will get here as soon as possible.
He slams both hands down on the table and starts to stand up. “I tried to call you at work today. They told me that you never showed up." He starts to pace back and fourth. "I know you are lying to me Coraline. Where have you been? Who is he?” He slurs in an accusatory tone.
“What are you talking about? There is no other man in my life but you baby.” I made sure to keep my voice clear and steady. Pretend Cora, you can do this.
I walk closer to him, ignoring every alarm bell in my head.
Every instinct in my body is begging me to turn around and run the other direction, but I can't. Not yet. I can distract him for just a little longer. Just until the police get here.
“WHO IS HE?” Nash roars, his voice cracking from the intensity of his scream.
He grabs the chair up that he was sitting in and slams it against the wall. The wooden legs shatter on impact and the chair lets fall to the ground.
This is not the first time he’s accused me of cheating on him. I know with the look that he has in his eyes right now that he wants to hurt me.
I don’t really have anywhere to hide in this house that he won't find me, but I’m sure going to try until the police get here. He starts to rush towards me and I turn around and run for my life.
I sprint to the basement door.
My fingers are trembling and I have to fumble around with the lock, but I manage to twist the deadbolt and latch the chain. I know that won’t hold him for long, but it will give me time to hide.
I continue to run as fast as I can down the stairs and to the actual basement.My lungs are burning—but I don't stop.
My feet hit the concrete basement floor and I start to search for the best place to hide.
Luckily for me, Nash never comes down here and in the state that he’s in, he doesn’t know where anything is at anyways.
I hide behind a mountain of storage totes and crouch down as small as I can. I try my best to control my breathing. In through my nose, out through my mouth.
I pull out my phone from my pocket and make sure it’s on silent.
There's a loud crash from upstairs. I flinch and almost drop my phone.
I can hear Nash swearing as he tears the house apart. I also hear him the minute he figures out that I’m downstairs and locked him out. He starts banging and beating on the basement door as hard as he can.
Then silence. Nothing.
Until I hear it. My heart drops when I hear the door start to crack and break. I decide to do something that I haven’t done in a long time. I pray to God as hard and fast as possible.
“Coraline, I know you’re down there. Tell me where you’re hiding and I’ll take it easy on you this time.” My stomach sinks, I know he’s lying. I put my hand over my mouth and close my eyes while I try to focus on being as quiet as possible.
I hear him toss the pieces of the broken door down the stairs, his heavy footsteps follow right after.
Nash trips and falls over the debris, causing him to swear even more.His breathing is ragged and uncontrolled.
Three loud knocks from the door upstairs sends a cold wave of panic all over me. My breath hitches in my throat and my stomach drops.
I bite my lip, hard enough to draw blood, so I don’t make any noise.
“Is that him Coraline? Is that your little boyfriend looking for you? Maybe I should give him a warm welcome.” He throws something again and spits on the ground.
There are three more knocks and I hear him turn around and go back up the stairs. I make myself continue to sit still. I’m hoping and praying that it’s the police.
I overhear lots of shouting and commotion but I can’t make out what’s being said. Then after a few minutes, I hear footsteps descending from the stairs again.
“Police! Is anyone down here?"
“Yes!” I shout as tears start to spill down my face. “I’m over here.”
“Please step out, slowly, with your arms above your head. Put any and all weapons on the ground.” I do as instructed.
I’m sitting in the police station now, turning in every piece of evidence that I’ve been hiding over the past few months.
It’s all real now—this nightmare is over. I’ve answered every question I could and gave the policemen all that I had.
My heart feels lighter than it has in years, like a weight I didn’t even know I was carrying has been lifted. Knowing he’s behind bars? It’s the kind of freedom I never thought I’d have.
It turns out that when the police showed up at my house, Nash opened the door, saw them, and still wouldn’t let them inside. He was so convinced that I was cheating on him, that he wouldn’t listen to anyone else.
That’s when the argument started. The officers tried to reason with him, but he refused.
He ran through the house, stumbled out the back door, and jumped into his car.
The police immediately followed him and tried their best to get him to pull over.
The chase didn’t last long. He crashed before they even got close.
Now, not only is he facing second-degree assault, but the police have added a DUI charge to his record, along with reckless driving and resisting arrest.
I pray I never have to see him ever again.