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My heart was pounding, sweat dripping from my temple as my legs gave way, and I sank to the cold tiles on the bathroom floor.
His voice was so calm.
“Open the door, Beth,” he repeated, but I couldn’t move.
I was frozen, waiting for my limbs to do as I wanted them to.
He was going to get in there. He wouldn’t stop until he did. It would be easier if I just let him, but I couldn’t fucking move.
With a loud bang, my body vibrated, and my heart felt like it was ready to explode. I wiped the trickle of sweat from my forehead only to realize it was blood.
His voice was getting louder, angrier, and I still couldn’t move.
Why couldn’t I move?
He was going to wake Hannah.
I needed to move.
“Open the fucking door, Beth. Now.”
With a trembling, blood-soaked hand, I reached for the doorknob, but I was a second too slow, and he kicked it in.
Eyes as black as coal, he took a menacing step forward and gently closed the door behind him.
We didn’t want to wake Hannah, after all.
I’d never been more thankful for this big house and how she was sleeping peacefully on the other side.
She couldn’t hear from there.
I saw my future in his eyes. I saw a room with no doors. With no way out.
I did the only thing I could. I braced myself and stifled the sobs. I smothered the screams and went somewhere else. Somewhere where there wasn’t pain. Where I was safe. Where Hannah was safe.
The anticipation always made the first blow the worst.
I was proud of myself when only a strangled moan escaped. Hannah wouldn’t hear that.
I saw it on a tv show earlier that a good way to deal with trauma is to create a safe place in your mind. Somewhere you can go when it becomes too much. When you think everything is going to cave in, and you can’t breathe. When you feel the least safe, you can dive into the depths of your mind, take a breath, and you’re safe.
Just like that.
Magic.
Those people on the tv said it was good for anxiety, but I was willing to give it a try.
So, as I felt his breath on my face before he began another onslaught on my body, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and I searched. I searched for anything to make me forget the pain my body was being subjected to. I wanted to cling to an ounce of sanity as he beat me until I could smell blood and his knuckles crunched.
I saw my beautiful baby girl. I saw Hannah smiling, running towards me after picking daisies from the grass. I felt her arms around my neck.
Just the sight of her evened my breathing.
But it was my job to keep her safe, and I didn’t want her image in my mind when her father was inflicting such a brutal punishment for a wrong answer.
Then I heard his belt buckle unclasp so I searched again, and I searched hard.
I sorted through my memories like a Rolodex and tried to remember the last time I felt safe.
