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“You won’t be leaving for Seattle, you won’t even leave this house. I tried to love you and tried to break you in.” I cringe when he says things like that, like I’m a dog. “You resisted it, ignored my warnings.” He knows I know what he means, this is the end. But he still brings it home, making sure that his sadistic voice is the last one I hear before he takes my life.
“I’m not leaving you. You’re leaving me. If I can’t break you or have you, no one can.” With that, my eyes fall closed, my body goes numb and I become weightless. I think of the last thing I would want to think of before death and I see his face.
Kingston.
My best friend, the man I truly love but never had the chance to. His green eyes and brown hair smile at me in my daydream. I wish I would have picked him and not Joel. I wish I would have been brave enough to tell him how I feel about him sooner. How much I’ve loved having the time I did with him.
Right before the blow hits me, I see his face and imagine his voice.
“Lana! Get off her you piece of shit!”
Kingston?
Blackness.
I jolt up from the bed, my hair sticking to my neck, my clothes damp from my sweat. I dreamed about him again, the reminisce of the dream still sticking to me like the sweat on my body.
Checking myself over, I make sure I’m still here, that the dream wasn’t real and the scarcely familiar feelings from that night are just memories. Nightmares come frequently, the abuse still seeming fresh after almost four years. Abuse is not something that you can ever forget, it resides with you for life, just like scars on skin do—faded, but never flawless again.
Salty air breezes in through the window of the beach house waking me fully now. Crashing waves and the rising sun setting the mood for this lazy Saturday morning. I look over to the round clock on the nightstand, I know it’s early since the sun is just on the horizon. It reads 5:15.
Turning, I find the bed is still empty, I’m not surprised. Kingston and I fought for hours last night, screaming at each other over the same tired reason. He wants to be together and that’s a place I never want to be again. In love with someone, someone I’m supposed to trust with everything, all while they destroy everything that I am.
Perhaps that has become something I fear more now since I’m pregnant. Having a child means I need to keep them safe, it’s not just me I have to worry about anymore. Kingston may never hurt me like that, but it isn’t just the physical pain I’m still recovering from.
The way the heart falls cannot be slowed down or stopped, and needing someone as deeply as I need Kingston puts my heart in danger of pain again. Kingston’s a great man, he’s been a best friend to me for fourteen years and he’s the father of my unborn child. I love him more than anything, but he’s a smug bastard, selfish to get what he wants, and every bit of a caveman.
I dated a man who was my living nightmare and I was stripped of my essence.
The part of me that was robbed and owned by someone who wasn’t me. I lost myself, lost my voice, lost who I was because I thought it was love. I was completely blindsided by Joel when he started abusing me. I tried the first few times to run but he always won. Following my friends and family was the turning point, that’s when I knew I couldn’t leave. Sending messages about hurting those who loved me if I didn’t come back to him, that was enough to fool me back to his waiting fist.
Abuse can be looked at as a form of weakness, as pure stupidity, but it’s not—it never is. Fear and manipulation by someone who once loved you can keep you from seeing greener tomorrows, keep you from finding the right way out and hope at the end of the black desolate tunnel.
Now I sit here fighting with the man I love, torn up inside because I’m pregnant and more afraid than ever to tell him. The way he reacted when Shayla got pregnant made me stiff as stone next to him. Kingston doesn’t want a family yet. He said Shayla and Trey were making a mistake and had no business being parents at a young age.
Hello, that’s us! I’m pregnant, with child, bun in the oven, the whole shebang, with the man who I’m scared to love, and the one who is dead set on no babies. It’s a
no-win situation. Still, I need to tell him and I will, but right now I need to focus on getting this trip back on track and find my lady balls, so I can tell him.
Last night I said terrible, inexcusable things to Kingston. I actually used the words I hate you as a defense mechanism and that is the lowest I have ever gone. I could never hate Kingston, even if I tried, even if I spent every day looking for reasons to hate him, I couldn’t. Instead, I would only find more reasons to love him and that’s exactly why I fear it, I shouldn’t need someone that bad.
Climbing out of bed, I leave my silk babydoll nighty on, the black material making my already tan skin look darker. I find my matching thigh length robe and slip it on, tying the strings loosely around my thin narrow waist. Looking myself over in the mirror I see the bags under my brown eyes, my long brunette hair a mess on my head. I look like death, replicating how my heart feels—lifeless.
Grabbing a brush, I get my shit together and fix my mess. Once I’m content, I head out to find Kings, I need to say sorry for everything I did to him last night. Hitting the stairs, I take them slowly, repeating what I’m going to say to him over and over again in my head. How do you say I’m sorry enough after you’ve said you hate someone?
“Kings?” My foot touches the bottom stair, the light from the kitchen just to left is on, maybe he’s in there?
There’s no answer. Checking once in the kitchen, I peer over the island and see he isn’t on the couch either. My heart rate instantly spikes, it’s quiet, the lonely silence far too deafening and familiar. The silence of shadows is once where Joel often lingered before he would abuse me.
I walk into the entertainment room and see it’s empty also. Did he leave me? I think for a short second that this could be true, until I see the car out front through the glass of the front door and his wallet sitting just to the left of it on the entry table.
“Calm down, Lana. Maybe he went for a walk,” I talk myself down and still my racing heart. Heading back into the kitchen, I set out on making breakfast. My little thirteen week love nugget needs to be fed. I reach down and rub tiny circles on my belly while I work at pulling out some eggs and fruit.
I grab the juicer out of the cabinet, taking the array of fruits and vegetables from the fridge and placing them on the island. I love this place and I’m secretly jealous Trey gave it to Shay as a wedding gift. It was his pop’s beach house. Charles’s death was sudden and the aftermath nearly destroyed Shayla and Trey, but then it brought them closer making me green with envy. I wish the past traumas and hardships that I have faced would bring me closer to Kings, instead they seem to wedge a deeper space between us.
I hear the sliding doors beside me open, causing me to stiffen and a cold shiver to trickle down my spine.
“It’s me.” Kingston’s sweaty form takes up the entryway. I visibly relax, soothing myself.
