Our House goes Dark

My life is happy. I work at the local bar and live alone. He swaggers into my work, overconfident, and handsome. The first few times I ignore him. On the fifth visit, he brings flowers, a new trophy, and a buckle. After cleaning up at the local rodeo.

“Come here, darlin’! Look what I won tonight.”

Snorting and walking past him. I say over my shoulder. “If you think I’m going to be one of your buckle bunnies. You’re mistaken, and have a lot to learn.”

“We can start any time. Let’s go for breakfast, or on a romantic picnic.”

“No, thanks.” I laugh, shaking my head. “Don’t worry, it’s easy enough to fill your bed.”

As soon as he has his beer, I forget him. The bar’s bustling. After closing, while clearing tables, I find a hundred-dollar bill. Along with his bull statue. Knowing I should toss it, and against my better judgment. It gets shoved in my locker with my apron and work shoes.

Walking down the quiet, dark street, I’m happy to be off. And thinking only about putting my feet up and reading. I pay no attention to my surroundings. Home is a block away, it’s easy for me to come and go. Evil laughter startles me.

Looking up and taking a step back, I bump into someone behind me. He grabs me, twisting my arms painfully. Whimpering and sucking in a breath, a scream builds. It’s cut off when he squeezes me and slaps his hand over my mouth.

Panicking, I kick my feet hard into his shin. He grunts, and I bite his hand while slamming my head back. His curses are music to my ears. Wiggling around, I break free. After stumbling a few steps, I trip. Panting and crying, I crawl for a couple more feet. My blood turns cold when steel digs into my throat. Hot, rank breath caresses me.

“Move again, you little tease. And I’m going to cut you open from your neck to your belly button. We’re going to have some fun with you tonight. If you make it good for us, I’ll consider letting you live. We might even leave you with no new holes.”

While he talks, he draws the knife’s tip over my neck and up my right cheek. Warmblood leaks down my face slowly. My fear of knives is deep and real, my worst nightmare is coming true. Closing my eyes, I wait for the worst to happen. The fight has left my body.

Pressing my face into the ground, he slices my shirt down the back. My body shakes in anticipation, somehow knowing he’s going to slice skin at any moment. He tugs on my bra so roughly the air leaves my lungs in a big whoosh. His foot presses into the back of my head as he continues pulling until there’s a loud rip. My head wraps into the pavement, and I cry out.

My eyes shut tightly. I go away in my mind. By picturing my small safe apartment, which holds more books than furniture. Next month I’m getting a puppy. He’s picked out. I’m just waiting for him to be cleared. Buster’s what I was going to name him.

Someone grunts, and the weight pushing me down disappears. I curl up crying and trying to cover myself up. Someone is fighting, a fist hits a face. When a shadow falls over me, I lay there shaking, as pathetic whimpers escape my throat. A hand touches my arm, making me choke and scurry back.

“Hush now, darlin’, I’ll never hurt you. The police will be here any minute.”

Sirens are quickly approaching. “Why are you helping me?”

“Teresa, no one should treat any woman that way.”

Clothing rustles as something warm’s placed gently around me. I bury my face in his soft jacket. It smells like him, male and leather. As the cop cars come to a screeching halt, their lights hit his eyes. I stare into ocean blue pools. If I’m not careful, I’ll lose myself.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. When the police finish talking to you, I’m going to get you home safely.”

That’s how our relationship got its start. He moved in the next day. Little by little, my apartment and life became his. Everything I am slowly disappears. I put my books away, making way for his many trophies and buckles.

Life is good when he wins, and terrible when he loses. The first time he hit me is shocking. After doing horribly at the rodeo, he had me drop him off. After leaving him at the closest bar, I go home to make him dinner. When I’m done, I wait for him to walk in the door.

Buster’s by my side the entire time. He’s the only thing I put my foot down on. Travis pretends to enjoy having a dog. But when he’s here, I try to ignore Buster, as hard as that is. The two of them are my life. I quit my job, after he told me, ‘no woman of mine is strutting her stuff for other men.’ He saved me, and I love him. No matter how lonely and afraid I am.

I owe him, it’s something he reminds me of every day. If not for him, I would be dead. Some nights I wish I were. He came home stinking of Jager. His eyes are dark, angry pools that dance wildly. Quickly, I put my baby in his crate and cover it with a blanket. Then rush into the kitchen to warm up dinner.

He storms in, slamming me against the refrigerator. I cry out when the handle digs into my back. And receive a slap in the face for my noises. Shoving as hard as I can I try to push him away. My eyes are wide as he cocks his fist back and slams it into my face. When I cower away, he punches me hard in the stomach. The fight, along with the wind, disappears. I lay on the floor staring up at my cracked ceiling, and wait for him to finish.

An hour later, he is. Curling into a ball and weeping, as he stumbles away from me. The bed squeak and his loud snores take over the apartment. Slowly, I reach up to grasp the counter and lift myself off the floor. Painfully, I make my way into the bathroom. When the light comes on, I winch.

Eyes stare back at me that is dark and bruised. My lips are red and swollen, and it’s hard to breathe. After wetting a bath towel, I bury my face and weep. I have to leave, but I have nowhere to go. There’s no one to help me. If I have to do it alone, I will. It’s not safe for me and my Buster to remain.

Creeping out of the bathroom, I make my way into the living room. When Buster sees me, he howls with excitement. As soon as his leash is on, he pulls me painfully towards too the door. Biting my lip so I don’t cry out, I walk as quickly as I can. I’m as excited to leave as he is.

After he goes potty, I load him into the car. With no thoughts on where we will go, I start it. Nothing happens. After a few attempts, I lean my head on the steering wheel. Buster crawls into my lap, licking at the tears and blood. We snuggle and I close my eyes. We’ll try again in the morning, there’s nothing left to do tonight.

The morning sun’s bright, and there’s a loud knocking. At first, I’m not sure if it’s my head or happening. When I turn my head, Travis is standing barefoot on the other side of the window. He’s shirtless, and his jeans unfastened. I stare dumbly at his feet. This is the first time I’ve ever seen him outside without his boots.

He motions for me to open the door. I shake my head and try to start the car. It coughs and clicks, and doesn’t start. Impatiently, he knocks on the window. I cower away from it. Which is when he notices my face. His mouth drops open as he falls to his knees, staring at his knuckles.

They’re bruised and swollen. He slumps to the ground, sobbing my name. I listen for many moments before giving in and opening the door.

“Darlin, I’m sorry I hurt you. I’ll never do it again. I don’t know what came over me. A demon had control over my soul last night.”

I wrap my arms around him, as he curls into my lap sobbing. Stroking his hair and staring at his handsome face. If Jager is a demon, then yes, it had control over him. We sit like that until he’s done crying.

He gathers me in his arms, carrying me gently into the house. After running a bath, he cleans me up, washing away the blood. I say nothing when he places me in the bed and makes love to me. Eventually, I fall asleep in his arms feeling safe and loved. Even as my body and face ache with bruises.

The next few months are perfect and wonderful. We spend all his free time together, going on picnics and romantic dates. He takes me to all his rodeo competitions instead of leaving me at home. Every time he wins, he calls me his good luck charm.

The next time he hits me, it’s not such a shock. The times after that are even less so. He breaks me down, mentally and physically. Screaming, “You’ll never leave me, if you do I’ll track you down and kill you.”

In the morning, he’s tender and loving. I’m a mess. Dropping and breaking things, and wasting money. I’m too clumsy and can no longer dress or put on my makeup. Everything I do seems to be wrong.

The months turn into years. My friends stop calling or texting. I haven’t seen my family in years. The only joy I have is Buster. Every time Travis comes home drunk and angry, I lock up my boy. If he ever tries to defend me, I know what’s going to happen.

One morning, after an especially dreadful night, I can’t get out of bed. Buster messes in the front room and Travis steps in it. My baby howls. There’s a crash followed by a whimper. Crawling out of bed, I peek out the door. I’m ashamed when I see Buster laying against the wall. And can’t tell if he’s breathing.

The front door slams. I make my way slowly to him. He whimpers and wags his tail, but cannot get up. This is the last straw. One or both of us are going to end up dead. We have to get out of here.

Reaching for my phone without another thought, I dial the one person I can think of.

“Brian, help me. Can you come to my place right now?”

“Kris, I’m on my way.”

“You’re the only one to call me that.”

“I like your middle name better.”

My bag’s packed, and there’s a knife in my hand. Brian is the one who walks in the door. He carries Buster and my bag as I limp after him. Struggling to hold the tears at bay, I can’t look at him.

He strokes my back. “Where do you want to go?”

“We have to get Buster to a vet, then I have to disappear. If Travis finds me, I’m dead.”

“We’ll take care of everything. I always told you I’d be here for you.”

“Drop me off somewhere and leave. When Travis tracks you down, you can tell him you don’t know where I am.”

“Teresa, I’m not leaving you. I love you. Even if we’re only friends, I’m staying with you.”

Tentatively, I reach out my swollen hand, “Thank you.”