Chapter 65 #2
“But I could! I should have! Who knew better than me? I’d seen it, over and over. And now I was repeating the pattern!” She breathed shakily, fighting for composure and completely unable to restrain her tears. “I’m sorry, Lila. I shouldn’t have—”
“Remy, you don’t need to apologize to me.” Lila shook her head, understanding exactly what was happening. “I’m sorry. I was…just trying to comfort you. It’s hard to find the right words to say.”
“I know,” Remy whispered, smiling sadly at her friend. “And I appreciate it.”
She turned to the room, waving between her and Lila.
“You see this? See the friendship? The affection? The caring?” Every eye in the room was fixed on her, save the baby’s, who slumbered peacefully in Benny’s arms, completely unaware of the tragedy retelling unfolding around him.
“Imagine that on steroids. That was how my relationship with Etta was. And Tasha.” She sniffled back her running nose, then gratefully accepted another tissue from Nell, who always seemed prepared for life’s calamities and indignities, both large and small.
“But I couldn’t let them know how stupid I’d been.
I wanted to. So much. But I was afraid Doug would go after me.
Or them. I couldn’t let them see me anyway.
The bruising was so bad on my neck I had to skip class the next day.
My larynx was very swollen as well, making my voice sound odd.
I’m lucky he didn’t dissect my carotid artery.
“I stayed home and nursed my wounds. And my pride.
And my disgust at myself for everything.
Then Doug came home from work with a sleeveless mock turtleneck, claiming he saw it and thought the pink brought out the blue of my eyes.
But I knew what he was doing. He was hiding the evidence of his abuse.
“That was when I started planning my exit strategy. I knew I couldn’t stay.
I know now that strangulation by a significant other is the number one indicator of future domestic homicide.
At the time, I didn’t have much education about abuser patterns.
But I did have my gut. And that told me he’d eventually kill me. ”
Sebastian’s leg jumped and she patted it, squeezing his knee in acknowledgment of his feelings and fears. She knew this tale had to be ravaging his massive, empathetic heart.
“I didn’t say anything to Etta and Tasha, but I did assert myself and go to dinner with them alone after the worst of the bruising faded.
I just—I needed to ground myself in what was good in the world.
And they represented that. I made up my mind that I’d accept Georgetown.
I’d report Doug to his supervisors and then leave him. Divorce him.
“When I came home from dinner, Doug was sitting on the couch. He was ‘cleaning his service revolver,’” Remy said with air quotes.
“Not brandishing it at me. Just manipulating the gun and then putting it on the table in front of me. His message was clear. He was icy controlled. Then he played a harmless message from a male classmate and released a jealous rage that stunned me with its intensity. He screamed at me, choked me again. Threw me against the wall.”
Remy caught Sebastian’s sad gaze, knowing he remembered what happened next. The birdcage. And Doug killing her Carolina Chickadee. Reading her need, he nudged Chicane back on her lap, the long-eared bunny having slowly migrated to Sebastian in the past few minutes.
“Doug violently killed a bird I’d rehabbed and kept as a pet.
I started to call 911, and he just laughed, this cruel, awful sound.
‘You calling the cops, Torres? I am the cops. No one will believe you.’ He always called me by my former last name when he was angry.
He was so pissed I never took his name, but it was such a pain to handle logistically.
I thought I’d do it prior to med school, as a—a present for him. ”
Remy couldn’t sit any longer. She handed Chicane to Bash and stood.
Moving to the windows just past Grayton, she stared out at the night sky.
“When he was asleep that night—more like passed out drunk—I sneaked out. Drove to Etta’s apartment.
It was early February and it had started snowing.
I knocked on Etta’s door. She took one look at me and pulled me inside, where I collapsed in her arms and told her the entire story.
“Etta was not at all surprised and was so livid at herself for not intervening more aggressively. She called Tasha, who instructed us to drive immediately to her home, ten minutes away. There, she gave me about five hundred dollars in cash and her credit card. She’d booked me into a small, boutique hotel close to her home.
We were all worried her place or Etta’s apartment would be the first places Doug looked for me.
In the morning, she’d planned to meet me to talk with a lawyer recommended by her partner.
“Etta stayed with me at the hotel until the morning, then had to go to class for a major presentation. She—she stopped at her apartment to shower and change.” Remy folded her arms, rubbing them against the chills erupting.
She hadn’t said this part aloud in so long, she thought the details would be faded.
But it was all as real and visceral as if it were happening right now. She heard herself continue, voice wooden.
“According to witness reports after the fact, Doug was waiting in the hallway. He pushed his way into her apartment. The woman who lived next door reported hearing yelling.”
Remy’s throat seized and she coughed, fighting for air. Sebastian came up behind her and cradled her in his arms. Leaning into his comfort, and pulling strength from his unwavering support, Remy finished the story.
“According to a neighbor, who heard it through the walls, he kept insisting Etta tell him where I was. And she kept saying she didn’t know.
The rest is all pieced together from various witness reports.
There was screaming. And apparently he saw a disposable paper coffee cup from the hotel on her hall table, where she’d left it.
I—I made her that cup of coffee,” Remy sobbed.
“There was a struggle, and Etta fought him to prevent him from going after me. And Doug—he—he shot her. Twice in the chest at close range.”
“Oh my God,” Honor whimpered.
“He rushed out of there, screaming at Etta’s neighbor and waving his gun. As soon as Doug disappeared, the woman called 911. And Etta…” Remy wept, her body shaking with the force of her tears.
“Shh, Angel, ssshh,” Sebastian crooned. “It’s alright. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
Remy wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand, which shook hard. She stared at it, unsuccessfully willing it to stop trembling. She pushed a fingernail into the tip of another finger, focusing on that small pain to help face the much deeper agony in her heart.
“Within ten minutes of the emergency response call, Doug kicked in the door to my hotel room. He choked me and held a gun to my head, telling me if I made a sound, he’d kill me.
I wanted to run, but I knew he’d shoot me.
I couldn’t figure out how he’d found me but I was terrified for Etta and Tasha.
So I—I went with him, my mind whirling with fear for my safety and the Remingtons’.
At the same time, I was trying to figure out how to escape him.
“We were stumbling down the hall, his gun in my back, when four SWAT officers converged. Doug started screaming at them to back off. That I was suicidal. That I was mentally ill and I’d shot my best friend and had gone to the hotel to shoot myself.
I knew then he’d shot Etta. And I could only pray she survived.
“But the SWAT officers knew the true situation. Turns out he hadn’t killed Etta immediately. She managed to tell her neighbor everything, including my whereabouts. Then she—she—she—”
Remy broke down into heaving, gasping sobs, crying until her throat was raw. Her shoulders shook and her legs gave out. Sebastian caught her and slid to the floor, nestling her in his lap as he rocked her.