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Chapter Ten
Lena
Isat on the daybed looking around, noting there were no pictures on the walls, and very little furniture, and that the kitchen counters were completely bare. Then I remembered Jackson said it was a rental. I patted the dog some more and stroked the cat before taking the clothes into the bathroom. I set them on top of the counter and ran the water in the tub, letting it run over my fingers as it filled. I debated whether I should wait for him to come back up with towels before plunging in, but the water looked so inviting, and I felt so filthy and grungy. I couldn’t wait to get the smell of Troy off me. I shrugged out of my coat, let it fall to the floor, and stepped into the warm, soothing water. Resting my head against the back of the tub, I closed my eyes, and for the first time in a year, I relaxed, almost. I thought … maybe I was even safe. But was I?
I didn’t want to run for the rest of my life. If I had managed to kill Troy, how long would it take the police to find me? If I didn’t kill him, how long would it take him to find me? I wasn’t sure which situation was better, but settled on the first one. I’d rather go to prison than be subjected to Troy’s abuse again. How did other women deal with it? I’d asked myself that question too many times.
Yes, I knew there were shelters, but as Troy reminded me many times, he’d find me if I ever tried to run, and I knew a shelter or safe house for women would be the first place he would look. I’d read stories about abused women. I didn’t think I was anything like them. I was stronger than them—stronger than my mother. Or so I’d thought. Of course, I’d never brought any of those books home. It was better to read those types of books while at the library, never checking one out. Troy knew everything I did. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he kept tabs on everything I borrowed from the library. I was lucky he would even let me go there every few weeks.
