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Rory
Approximately two months ago
“You stupid motherfucker,”I seethe as I carefully pull myself up from my prone position on the floor. “You have no clue what you’ve done.” A whimper of pain escapes my lips when I finally manage to stand upright.
Slowly making my way into my bathroom, I wince when I see my reflection in the mirror. My face is black and blue, and my left arm is dangling somewhat uselessly. I walk back into my bedroom, taking shallow breaths because I suspect my ribs are either cracked or broken as well. Grabbing my duffel bag out of the closet, I start putting clothes inside, then hit up the hidey-hole I have underneath the floorboard, where my money stash has been slowly growing over the past six months.
Yeah, I had set plans in motion to leave, and a lot of my stuff is already in the small RV that’s out in the shed, but today’s beating clinched it for me. Carrying my bag while fighting back the nausea from the pain, I drop it by the back door then go looking for my cat, Sassy.
That’s what started this latest ‘discussion’ according to Patrick. He didn’t like her, said she was ugly, and when he went to pick her up and she scratched him, he flung her against the wall. Then I jumped on him because of his actions, momentarily forgetting that he had almost eight inches in height and about a hundred pounds in weight on my petite frame.
“Sassy, where are you, baby?” I croon, having pulled the carrier out of the hall closet. “C’mon, sweet girl, Momma needs to get you checked out.”
A pitiful meow leads me over by the wall near the kitchen door and I drop to my feet, uncaring about the pain that engulfs me. She’s curled up and I can tell something’s wrong with one of her legs.
“Oh, God, Sassy,” I whimper as tears fall down my cheeks. “C’mon, baby, let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Right now, I don’t care that I own the house that was my grandparents’ home during their marriage. I don’t give that first fuck that he’ll likely come back and do something to it or me. No, my flight mode has been activated.
It’s time to get the fuck outta Dodge.
* * *
It takes me almost an hour to maneuver out to the shed that’s near the back of the property. Patrick was never interested in what was inside. In fact, he presumed it was just a bunch of ‘junk’ my grampy had gathered over the years.
He was right, but he was also very, very wrong.
I finally hit the keypad that will open the barn doors and see the RV sitting there, waiting for me, and for the first time in hours, I smile. It’s one filled with pain, and probably looks more like a grimace than an actual smile, but I don’t care.
I’ve been gathering my important things from the house for months now, ever since it became apparent that Patrick was not the man I thought he was, knowing I’d have to leave. Once I have Sassy inside and buckled into the passenger seat, I toss my duffel bag in the back, then carefully climb into the driver’s seat, a low moan passing my lips as the pain radiates through my body.
“Okay, Sassafras, let’s see what we can do, okay?” I mutter as I start the RV.
Grampy bought it for a song at a local auction; it was repossessed by the bank who was looking to recoup some of their money. He brought it home, a gleam in his eyes when he took me down to his workshop.
“Lookee what I found, Rory,” he chortled as I stood there, my mouth hanging open. “Figured I’d fix it up so you could travel the way you always wanted.”
“Grampy, it’s… it’s awesome,” I replied. “It’s the perfect size, too. Does it run?”
“It does, but we’re gonna go over it with a fine-tooth comb, missy. Can’t have my girl breaking down or anything like that.”
Shaking my head at the memories, I manage to pull forward, then get out to close and relock the doors, before I get back into my home away from home and leave, not sparing a glance backward. I’ll deal with Patrick and his bullshit when I know Sassy is going to be alright and not a moment sooner.
* * *
As I quickly leave the local area so Patrick can’t find me, I mentally think about what I’ve got money-wise. Unfortunately, I can’t count on my bank account because that asshole is on it as well, but I have several thousand dollars in cash that I’ve squirreled away in the RV, as well as what I took from my hiding spot in the house. I also have another account he doesn’t know about that I can access. And next year, I’ll receive the trust fund that my grandparents set up for me. As long as I’m frugal, I should be fine until I can find somewhere to settle.
Pulling into a parking lot, I park then call my local vet, Dr. Zack. I need to find somewhere to take Sassy that Patrick won’t know about, and Dr. Zack has been my family’s vet for longer than I’ve been alive. Hell, he was the one who taught me how to bottle feed Sassy when I found her in the ditch as a newborn when I went to get the mail. Her eyes were still closed, and she was so tiny, I spent weeks with her strapped in a sling-type thing so she was warm enough. She still likes to sleep curled against my chest to this day, even though she’s now three.
“Thank you for calling Southside Animal Care, this is Jolie. How can I help you?” the voice asks once the call connects.
“Jolie, it’s Rory,” I reply.
“Please hold,” she quickly states before I hear the music that signifies she’s put me on hold.
I start to shake, wondering if Patrick already came back to the house and saw I was gone. Nope, not gonna go there right now. My priority is getting Sassy taken care of, then I’ll worry about my own injuries. I’m mentally plotting my future when the line connects once again.
“Rory? It’s Jolie, sorry about that. I wanted to come back to Dr. Zack’s office to answer because there are a lot of people standing around, including your boyfriend,” she states.
