Chapter Two
CHAPTER TWO
THE SHARP CRACK of his hand against my face sounded through the small kitchen, followed by the shattering of glass on the tiled floor. My cheek stung, and for a moment, my vision blurred as I stumbled back, gripping the edge of the counter before falling. The world around me tilted, and I didn’t have the strength to stay upright.
Not now. Don’t pass out now.
I forced myself to breathe, though each breath felt shallow and painful. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth where he’d hit me. Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them away. I wouldn’t let him see me cry. I couldn’t give him that satisfaction. It only made him worse.
“You’re useless,” he spat, turning his back on me like I was nothing. Just a piece of furniture that had made him uncomfortable. “You can’t do anything right.”
I pressed my hand to my burning cheek, feeling the swelling start to form under my fingertips. As I sat on the floor, I wanted to scream at him, to throw something, to fight back. But the words stuck in my throat, choked by years of fear and helplessness.
“I don’t even know why I still keep you around,” James snarled, his eyes moving over me in distaste. “Shit, you aren’t even worth the time to fuck anymore.”
My mouth opened to argue since he insisted on forcing himself on me daily, some days more than once. Instead, I kept my eyes lowered, not moving, just praying he would leave. A sharp kick to my side had me crying out in pain.
“Look at me Bitch!”
The tears I tried to hold in fell, the pain too much as I raised my eyes to look at him and my eyes widened, seeing a knife in his hand. “James... what are you...” my voice trailed off, the fear choking me.
“Scared Fiona?” he asked, lunging at me and then laughing when I scrambled to get away, crawling to the corner, but he caught me, putting me in a chokehold, the knife at my throat. “I could do it, bury you in the backyard and nobody would ever miss you.”
“Please...” I choked out, scared to death, the icy blade nicking my skin.
“Jesus, you’re fucking pathetic,” he whispered in my ear before shoving me aside, my body crumpling to the floor. “Since I can’t get a decent meal here, I’m going out.” He tossed the knife in the sink and looked back over his shoulder with an evil smirk. “Don’t wait up.”
Five years.
Five long years of this, and I still couldn’t find the strength to leave. After every beating, I told myself it would be the last. Promising myself I would run away, that I’d get out before it was too late. But every time, the fear held me captive, too afraid of what might happen if I tried to escape. What I knew would happen—experience is an infallible teacher.
But I can’t do this anymore.
I just can’t.
One day, he’ll lose control and really do it—kill me.
My gaze darted to the phone on the counter, just out of reach. It felt like a lifeline, but it might as well have been a thousand miles away in my mind. I knew what I had to do, but the thought of actually doing it made my chest tighten with panic.
What if I failed?
But what choice did I have?
This was it. Rock bottom. There was no more pretending that things would get better, no more hoping he would change. He would never change. And if I didn’t get out now, I wasn’t sure I’d survive the next time.
I inched closer to the phone, praying I wouldn’t lose my courage. My fingers shook as I reached for it, snatching it up and pressing it close to my chest, holding my breath.
I slipped out of the kitchen as quietly as I could, my heart pounding with the fear he may not have really left. He had tricked me a few times, making me believe he was gone, only to jump out and scare me, continuing his abuse.
The laundry room at the back of the house was small and cramped, but it was the only place I felt even remotely safe. I closed the door behind me, locking it before crawling into the small linen closet, sinking to the floor as I dialed the only number I knew by heart, my hands trembling so badly I almost dropped the phone.
The phone rang once, twice, three times. Each ring felt like an eternity. What if he didn’t pick up? What if — “Yeah?” The gruff voice on the other end of the line made me catch my breath. It had been over a year since I’d heard my father’s voice, but it was still as solid and reliable as I remembered.
“Dad,” I whispered, my voice breaking on the word. “I... I need help.”
There was a moment of silence, and I could almost picture him on the other end, sitting up straighter, his brows drawing together in concern. “Fiona? What’s wrong? Where are you?”
I swallowed hard, glancing at the door, half-expecting it to burst open any second. “He... he hurt me. I can’t—I can’t stay here anymore.”
A low curse rumbled through the phone, followed by the sound of him moving, probably getting ready to leave. “I’m comin’ to get you. You stay put; you hear me? Don’t let him know you called. I’m on my way.”
Relief washed over me, mixed with a fresh wave of fear. I’d finally done it. I’d made the call. But now that it was real, I wasn’t sure I could handle the consequences. What if he found out before my dad got here? What if — “Fiona,” my dad’s voice snapped me back to reality. “You did the right thing. I’m comin’. Just hang tight, okay? Text me the address as soon as you hang up.”
I nodded even though he couldn’t see me, clutching the phone like it was the only thing keeping me tethered to the ground. “Okay. Please... hurry.”
“I will. I promise.”
The line went dead, and I sent him my address before letting the phone slip from my fingers, clattering to the floor beside me. My whole body trembled as I pulled my knees to my chest, trying to hold myself together. I didn’t know what was going to happen next, but there was no turning back now.
I’d finally made the jump, and all I could do was pray that I’d survive the fall.