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His arms wrap around me, just tight enough to comfort me without hurting. I stand in his embrace for longer than is probably acceptable, but the comfort of his touch is indescribable.
“Livvy,” he nuzzles against me, “why is your heart racing?”
“I woke up disoriented.” I step out of his arms and look down at my feet. “The dark and closed doors scare me.” My cheeks heat in embarrassment and shame. I’m a grown adult with the fears of a toddler.
“Hey,” he says gently as he lifts my chin. “Nothing to be ashamed of, okay? Want to tell me why?”
I look up into his warm hazel eyes, the flecks of green are more pronounced tonight. All conversations in the room have stopped, and when I look past Nolan, I see everyone looking my way. They’re spread out all over the room, but their eyes are all on the same person, me.
I give a slight nod and walk into the living room. I take a seat in one of the armchairs across from the couch. There’s so much to tell them, so many things to explain, that I’m having trouble finding a jumping off point. I really need them not to react strongly. If they explode with any volatile emotion, I know I’ll end up withdrawing.
“Can you guys not show emotion while I tell you what has happened?” I pull my feet up in front of me and wrap my arms around my shins. “Just sit there and listen?”
Each of them nods or says yes, their faces blank.
“It’s hard to figure out where to start,” I say. “I guess I’ll start with the early days of the abuse and then walk you through the rest. It started as soon as we were married and had moved out to LA. At first it was little comments here or there about my body, what I was eating, how I compared to the women around us. He’d say things like ‘Jade stays in good shape for her husband, why can’t you do that?’ or something similar. He would suggest I get breast implants. He basically picked out everything I’ve ever felt self-conscious about and exploited it.”
I take a moment to breathe through the pain of the memories. I glance at each of them, trying to gauge their thoughts and feelings but so far they’re all calm.
“So he planted all these insecurities within me. When we’d go out to charity events or red carpets, he’d be so wonderful in front of everyone. He’d dote on me and be, what I then thought, was protective.” I look around at them. “I see it now for what it was. He never saw me as anything other than a possession.
“The first time he hit me, he played it off like an accident. He made me think it was partly my fault for the way I moved. He promised that he would never do it again.” I scoff at myself for believing his lies. “He didn’t for a while, but the lying and mind games started next. I brought up counseling, and he told me he thought I could definitely benefit from it. Just me though, not him.”
I take a second to tuck my emotions away. This next part will be hard for me to talk about and burying them deep down is the only way I’ll get through it. “That was all before my parents died. Then, when they passed away, I went into a full, deep depression. I hadn’t seen them since the wedding. He told me you guys sent me a plant but were too busy to come for the funeral.”
Lake grumbles at that. Grant clenches his jaw and narrows his eyes. I have no idea what he’s thinking, but a small part of me is comforted by his minimal reaction.
“I didn’t get out of bed for weeks. I hadn’t made close friends, and Tripp was never around. When he was, he complained about my depression. He finally brought in a psychologist to help me with the grief. At least he did that much, I guess.”
I notice Nolan and Sawyer share a serious look.
“After seeing her for a few months, I finally felt like I could handle a charity event. That was the second night he hit me. It was hard enough to give me a black eye and bloody nose. He walked right past me, crumpled on the floor like an insignificant piece of shit.” I look down at my knees. “I was in the bathroom cleaning up when he came in, full of remorse. He begged me, on his knees, to forgive him. Said that stress from work made him lash out at me. He promised he would never do it again. He gave me some painkillers and tucked me into our bed. I didn’t wake up fully for two days. Every time I would start to come to, he’d give me another set of painkillers.”
A tear slides unbidden down my cheek. I swipe it away quickly. Nolan grabs a box of tissues and sets them beside me, kissing my temple before sitting back down. They haven’t even heard the worst part yet. I take a deep, shuddering breath before continuing with my story.
“I didn’t realize then what he was doing but I do now. He kept me sedated so he could build something in the basement. Have you guys heard of panic rooms?” I wait until they answer to keep going. “Well, the house we bought had one from the previous owners. He had it retrofitted to where it locked from the outside instead of the inside. He was the only one with a key. He started locking me in there when I displeased him. If I said the wrong thing at a party, he’d lock me up. On days I was locked in the panic room, I’d only get to go to the bathroom once. That’s when he started having the vegan chef come in.
“One day, he left and I decided to make a break for it. He hadn’t hit me in a few months, and our exchanges had been civil. I went straight to the police and told them everything. I thought they were taking me seriously but not an hour later he strolled through the station doors to get me. He had donated a large sum of money to a charity for the families of fallen officers. In doing that, he’d become friendly with several detectives and the deputy chief. One of them called him to let him know where I was.”
More tears fall, and I blow my nose. The feeling of absolute isolation and fear I felt leaving that station slams into me. “I considered running, just straight running down the street from him, but right as I was about to, he pulled me to him and promised my punishment wouldn’t be as bad if I just got in the car with him quietly. He had told his friends on the force that I was suffering from severe mental illness in the wake of my parents’ death. So, no one questioned him.”
When I look over at Lake, I can tell his anger is barely restrained. The veins in his forearms are protruding and pulsing with repressed rage. His nostrils flare before he stands and walks out of the apartment. I give the rest of the guys a questioning look, not sure whether I should wait or keep going.
“Keep going,” Sawyer says gently.
“He’s going to need a while to calm down,” Grant adds, the second sentence he’s directed to me in as many days.
“Tripp kept me locked in the room for three weeks. The only time he’d let me out was to shower, which he only allowed when he wanted sex, or to use the bathroom. He gave me my meal then, too. I got pregnant while I was locked in there. He wanted me to get an abortion because kids weren’t high on his list of priorities. I wanted to think about it.
“A small part of me wanted to keep the baby because then I’d have a reason to fight back. A reason to wake up every day and function.” Sobs overcome me. The clashing emotions of losing a baby I was in no place to keep but wanted to anyway assault me. My body heaves with grief that I never allowed myself to fully feel. I was always on guard, constantly in fight or flight mode with him. I couldn’t let myself feel anything. “I ended up losing the baby a few weeks in. I hadn’t even seen a doctor, but the pregnancy had been confirmed via bloodwork.
“He didn’t care that I lost the baby. Now looking back on it, I wonder if he put something in my food to cause a miscarriage. I don’t even know if that’s a thing, but there is nothing I wouldn’t put past him now. He is truly evil.” I take another deep breath. “I tried to commit suicide after that. Everyone was dying around me—my parents and the baby. I was isolated from everyone and everything that had ever mattered to me. I didn’t have anything to live for. So I grabbed one of my razors while I was showering and slit my wrist.” I hold my wrist up to show them the thin scar. “He heard me hit the floor and stopped the bleeding.”
“Fuck.” Grant stands quickly. “I’m gonna go check on Lake.” He’s out the door before anyone can say anything.
“Should I wait?” My eyes bounce back and forth between Sawyer and Nolan as I stop and grab a tissue. “Or keep going?”
“There’s more?” Nolan looks at me with his soulful eyes so full of sadness and pain that I nearly lose it again.
