3. Chapter 3
Lydia
Ipull into the parking garage of our downtown apartment and pull out the keys. I turn to open my door when a hard tug on my hair pins my head to the seat’s headrest.
“You stupid bitch,” Simon spits at me, anger flaring in his eyes. “You think you can dress like a whore and then embarrass me by saying I’m too drunk to drive? All in front of my coworkers? My boss!”
“Simon, baby. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” My words are cut off by a slap that sends my cheek into the driver’s-side window with a loud thud.
My vision darkens at the edges, then blurs.
I sit there, completely still, afraid of what he’ll do if I move.
Damn, for a small guy, he packs a punch.
How do some men just know how to hit a woman?
Do they teach that at some secret douchebag school?
Dammit, it hurts. But like hell would he see me cry.
“Remember, Lydia,” he growls, moving in close enough that I can feel his breath on my cheek.
“I did you a favor by being with you. Do you think anyone else was going to take you? A dumb, small-town girl. Didn’t even go to college.
” He grasps my chin, jerking my face toward his.
“Ugh, and you’re looking a bit chubby for my liking these days.
Don’t you have any respect for me at all?
Don’t you care what you look like on my arm?
I won’t have a fat wife, Lydia. Get your shit together.
” He shoves my face away, as if he’s too disgusted to even look at me.
“Get your shit together, girl, or no man is ever going to want you.” My stepfather’s words circle in my head. Ugh. Bastards. They’re both such bastards!
Simon sits there breathing heavily, waiting for me to respond. I give myself a minute to choose my words, fairly certain of what he’ll do if he doesn’t like them. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth from his backhand. I swallow it down, trying not to grimace.
“I’m so sorry, Simon. I’ll do better. I love you, baby, and I know just how lucky I am to have you love me back.” I try not to visibly retch at the words. They’re such bullshit but I need to buy myself some time.
He sighs deeply and lets me go, his facial expression changing immediately.
“That’s my girl.” He turns to get out of the car, rushing over to open my door.
“Now, let’s go to bed, and you can show me just how sorry you are,” he says, wagging his brow in the most disgusting way, like he hasn’t just smacked and berated his wife.
My stomach rolls at the thought of what is to come.
I lie in our bed, staring at the ceiling. What started out as Simon brutally assaulting my mouth with his tongue, and sloppily grabbing my ass and boobs, turned into him passing out cold, clothes still on.
Lucky me.
When he crashed, however, he pinned me to the bed beneath him.
I’ve now been lying here for the past ten minutes.
I make sure he’s fully passed out before I attempt to move, and finally, I’m able to slide over just enough to pull my arm free.
I gently push myself off the bed, and as soon as I’m standing, I take a deep breath to collect myself.
I run to my closet, grab the first bag I can find and throw clothes inside.
As soon as the bag is overflowing, I grab another, filling it just as quickly and remembering to toss in a couple pairs of shoes and some underwear too.
I tiptoe to my bathroom and throw some toiletries inside, stopping when I hear him move on the bed.
Finally, his breathing goes back to a deep, regular rhythm. I count up to sixty, then I’m gone.
I grab my purse and the keys to my Mercedes. I’m out the door as quickly as I can manage. I contemplate taking the stairs just to make sure the noise of the elevator doesn’t wake him up, but I take my chances, knowing the elevator will be faster than running down twelve flights.
I want to be out of here as quickly as possible, and I haven’t grown any less clumsy with age. I hold my breath as the doors open to the garage, knowing there’s no way Simon could be there, yet nervous all the same. Luckily, I parked close, and I’m loaded and locked inside my SUV within a minute.
Just as I push the button to start it, a call comes through, flashing on the screen. Simon. Fuck. My stomach drops as I deny the call. It starts to ring again. Deny. I pull out of the parking spot, glancing in my rearview mirror. Simon is standing there, a murderous expression on his face.
My phone beeps with an incoming text.
Simon: You can’t leave me, Lydia. I won’t allow it. Get your ass back here.
It immediately chirps with another message.
Simon: Get back here, Lydia.
And another.
Simon: Where do you think you’re going? You know I’ll find you.
That last message sends my blood cold, but I don’t turn around.
I don’t look back. I switch off my phone and keep my eyes forward.
I have no clue where I’m going, but I know my future is already looking so much brighter.
For the first time in what feels like forever, I’m able to take a good, deep breath.
I drive for hours, finding myself constantly checking my rearview for Simon’s Audi.
My head is throbbing, and I can feel swelling in my cheek.
I finally spot a small hole-in-the-wall gas station off the freeway and stop for fuel and coffee.
And snacks. I desperately need a snack. To hell with Simon’s chubby comment. Fuck him. This girl likes food.
I flip my visor down, finally taking a good look at my reflection.
Well, shit. I have mascara running down my cheeks, my hair is an unruly knot on top of my head, and a black eye is starting to form.
I pull the small makeup bag from the console and do what I can to hide it.
It’s not great, but I work with what I have.
I pump my gas, my head on a constant swivel, then go inside to pay, grabbing a bottle of water, a cold coffee drink, and a bag of Cheez-Its. I step up to the register, and the poor gas-station employee’s eyes bulge out of her head.
“Are you alright, ma’am?”
It takes me a minute to understand what she means, and then I look down, realizing I’m still wearing this stupid cocktail dress, but with sneakers. I at least had the wherewithal to change my shoes, thank goodness.
I muster my best smile and say, “I’m alright.
Just a rough night. Thank you.” My voice wavers, but I force myself to keep smiling as I pay and hurry out the door.
My hands tremble as the reality of how unprepared I am sets in.
Fear gnaws at me, but beneath it, a spark of defiance flickers, maybe for the first time in years.
The reality crashes in: Simon could shut off my debit and credit cards at any moment, leaving me absolutely stranded.
I hadn’t planned for this. I hadn’t stashed away any emergency money.
I hadn’t thought through where I’d go or what I’d do.
Dammit, now the nerves really hit. What if I’ve made a mistake?
I think about the bag of clothes in the back seat, the tiny stash of toiletries, and the few snacks I just bought.
I have nowhere safe to go, no plan, and no idea if anyone would even answer if I dared to reach out.
Still, I refuse to let the panic swallow me.
I grew up getting smacked around. I’m not going to take it from the man who had vowed to always love and cherish me.
What complete bullshit that is. No. He hit me.
So I’m going to hit him where I know it will hurt him most.
His wallet.
Even though I’m scared, I’m done being silent. One way or another, I’ll find my way forward.
I didn’t work during our marriage. Simon insisted I spend my days volunteering and lunching with his coworkers’ wives.
It was one more form of manipulation I had chosen to overlook.
I itched to make my own income, but he was adamant about me staying home.
Because of this, I had no real money of my own, but my name was on our joint checking accounts.
A fact that surprised me at the time, yet I’m grateful for now.
Scanning the small town’s main road, I find a bank with an ATM.
I pull out as much as the machine would allow, breathing a sigh of relief when it finally spits out the cash, knowing Simon can cut off my access to funds at any time.
I also know he’ll be getting an alert on his phone that money has been pulled out of the account, as well as the location of the ATM.
That means I need to get on the road and put as much distance between us as possible, as quickly as I can.
I am also supremely grateful for the credit card I have in my name only, one Simon doesn’t know about.
I have never used it, but I’m thankful for the option.
I get back in my car and change direction. I had been heading north, as far from Texas as I could get, but now I’m going to head west. To where, I’m not sure, but I hope I’ll know once I get there.
I head out of town toward the mountains, letting the unfamiliar road guide me onward. The radio plays softly in the background, but my mind is a whirl of thoughts, equal parts fear and determination. I have no idea what tomorrow will bring, but at least I am finally moving under my own sovereignty.
The sky is just beginning to lighten, promising a new day. I force myself to believe I can make it somewhere safe before Simon catches me.