Free

Don't really know why I did it. It just happened. One day I was there, thinking --for it had become a regular habit, about escaping, going away or disappearing altogether. He was there. Losing his job as a chef triggered even more violence than before, so one day I let go, so I could be alone, and never dared think that one of my wishful moments of escape would actually happen. We had no children yet, so it was easy to forget about going back. It was easy to forget that he was waiting and that his cold stare would bore into me until my insides churned with anxiety. The cold wind was biting at my fingers. Looking at them for the first time since it happened, seeing the dried blood on them, I let my mind process what I had done.

Earlier that day, in a rare but wonderful event, work let out early. Excitement was in the air since the reason for this was a change in management. My cubicle neighbor -- a friendly, happy sassy man with a taste for other men wiggled his perfectly waxed eyebrows at me.

“Girl, you know this means early happy hour, right?” He was fluffing his hair as he said it.

“No, I can’t Mel, you know how he gets if I’m not home by the time he gets there.”

“Ah, yes your horrid man-candy, slash ‘sugar daddy’. Why are you still with him?” His usually light tone turned serious.

“Because, nosy, I love him. People don’t just quit when it gets difficult. Besides, he’s changing. This has been a good week for us. He cooked all week.”

“Honey, I am seriously worried about you. What if one day it’s not just a bruised eye or arm? You have to get out of there, we’ll go to the police and have his hiny arrested, and then we’ll go and have a fabulous margarita party!” I had to bite my lip to stop from agreeing. I loved him. He loved me. This would all get better, especially since we were thinking about getting married and having kids.

“I’m not leaving him Mel.” Mel threw his hands up in the air and gave a deep sigh.

“Fine, fine. When you’re ready, I’ll be here. Happy hour?” Laughing, I grabbed my purse and hooked my arm through his.

“Sure. Only one hour. I need to be home by six!”

“What are you sixteen?”

“I mean it.”

Feeling liberated, we went to our favorite bar, ‘Margarita Village.’

“Ohhhh, girl, it’s destiny, two for one today!” Mel began gushing over the menu while I fidgeted. We sat and began taking in the scenery.

“That waiter was totally checking you out. Why not, with your big brown church-girl eyes and dimples.”

“I don’t have church girl eyes!” I protested while reaching for my hand mirror. Reflection staring right at me I began inspecting it. Long, light brown hair, pale skin, big eyes and perfect make up. Not even an eyelash out of place. That was how he liked it. I Snapped it shut and began focusing my attention to the waiter who was bringing our drinks. He was cute. Tall, dark and handsome. Dimple in his left cheek and bright blue eyes. Perfect contrast.

After three (double) drinks I found myself brazenly flirting with him. Perhaps it was the alcohol or the high I got from feeling unconstrained for the first time in a year. It got dark and soon it went from being just us two to about ten people who were just as drunk as us. Standing up I began a mental checklist, sort of a test of inebriation. Name: Charlotte Rambert. Stand on one leg. Alphabet. Touch your nose.

“Mel, we have to go! Sleep over tonight so he won’t kill me.”

“Darlings, my date beckons.” Bowing dramatically he said goodnight to all. A chorus of ‘boos’ and ‘awws’ followed us as we made our way out.

“Charlotte, wait!” Whirling to see who had called me, all blood drained from my face when I saw who it was.

“Greg! Did we forget to pay?” I was beginning to open my purse when he held my hand and placed a folded piece of paper in it. He winked and kissed my cheek.

“Call me.” He ran back inside and my knees began to shake—not from excitement.

“Ooh! Let me see, you got a number and didn’t even have to try that hard. See? Your drunk self knows best. Ditch your man candy and call him up. He was cute!” Taking the piece of paper from my hand he began inspecting it.

“It’s real too!” While Mel was gushing about it, a million scenarios about what would happen if Gerard found out about it began to play right in front of me.

“Throw it away. I can’t have it. I have a boyfriend. One I happen to live with.” Nervously I began reaching for it.

“Charlie, you flirted. It’s not cheating, it’s called having fun. You were drunk it’s not like you go out hounding every day, though you should. It would do you a world of good.”

“No, you don’t understand, this would set us back. I can’t. No. Give it to me.” I wrestled him for it and threw on the ground.

“Then I can’t go home with you. You know what, you’re throwing your life away.”

“Why are you saying that to me? You’re my best friend.”

“Exactly, that’s why! No one else knows about your horrid life but me. When someone is happy, they tell everyone, when they’re unhappy they don’t quit complaining about it. You make excuses for him and I’m done. I can’t see you go on this self-destructing life style. Yeah, he is hot but so what? Is it worth all the bruises? When is it going to stop?”

“You don’t know him. He’s a little rough around the edges but he—”

“He what? He doesn’t mean it? He can change? What? Because I’ve heard all this before since the first time he laid a finger on you.” Angry tears rolled down my cheeks as I turned on my heel and left Mel standing there, alone in the dark.

No sooner was my key in the lock, the door burst open and in all his intimidating magnificence, pulled me in. No hello, not even a hint of loving emotion. With a bowed head, lips stammering I asked him what was wrong and if he could please forgive me. Then it began.

“Where were you?” He asked in a cold voice, a threat hiding underneath that sentence.

“Mel and I went out for drinks.”

“Do you even know what time it is?” I didn’t. Glancing up at the clock I was surprised to see it was barely eight. I let out a small smile.

“You think this is funny?” He grabbed my arm.

“I have called everyone looking for you. Lucky I didn’t call your parents little girl.” Little girl. Of course. I was ten years his junior and he would throw that in my face every chance he got.

“Why are you acting out? Needing attention are we? Guess you didn’t get enough of it at home.”

“Gerry, please. It’s not that late and I’m tired. Could we please just let this go?” Obviously, that was the wrong thing to say. His face began distorting to an ugly rage filled grimace, vein popping on his forehead. The first slap startled me.

“Let-this-go?” He said in between blows, each one getting harder than the previous.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry Gerry, please!” I whimpered while trying to cover my face as best as possible. Walking backwards, I tripped and fell. He took it as a chance to begin kicking me. A sudden memory of my dad kicking my dog came back to me. I was the dog. The anger I had been hiding, denying and avoiding for a year erupted out of me. I kicked back and screamed. It took him by surprise so I was able to get up and grab the nearest thing available. A heavy iron skillet. I swung and missed.

“I am not your dog anymore. I loved you and I’m done making excuses for you. I’m leaving you.”

“No, you won’t.” The sudden rush of adrenaline that had come to me, left and the pan began to feel too heavy in my hands. His hands were at my throat in seconds and the adrenaline kicked in again and I swung, this time connecting with his skull.

He cried in pain and reached for the nearest thing, one of his very, very sharp kitchen knives. To be honest I only felt the first one, deep in my belly, he did it again, and again and again and the animal sounds emitting through my throat got fainter and fainter. I could no longer see him but I could hear him, crying and throwing stuff around. Quiet, then movement. Me. I was moving. Only I wasn’t. He was dragging me out the back door. He dumped me on the back of his car and got in. I don’t know how long or how far or even if I was still alive, my consciousness kept drifting in and out. Soon enough he was carrying me out and dumping me near a frozen pond and covered me with leaves. He turned around and walked away, drove away. All this peace and quiet was what I had always wanted. I was lying on the cold ground, dying. Funny, I never thought this was how I would finally be free.