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I could hear them now.Your boyfriend didn’t rape you. Your boyfriend didn’t violate you. You like it rough.
Twenty-two.
His hand closed around my throat. Held. Hard. Squeezed a little tighter.
I knew what he was doing.
Twenty-three.
I was…worth…more than this.
Twenty-four.
I don’t know how I did it, but I screamed. I had no conscious control over it, but my body must have had enough. I’d had enough. My head swam in fog, but I screamed, loud and hard and screeching enough to throw him off guard.
I wasn’t a violent person. I’d never laid a hand on him, never fought back. I thought if I could be a better person, try a little harder, be a little kinder, then the world would become a better place.
For a minute, my eyes lost focus, and when I got it back again, his hands were gripping my hips. Then one of them raised, ready to strike.
He was strong. He went to the gym. I saw the muscles bulging in his arm as it came swinging downwards.
I ducked, flinching in shock as his arm hit the back of the sofa, but it was like something suddenly made sense. Like I could finally think clearly. Clearly enough that my knee bent and shot hard into his groin. His hand scratched deep marks into my skin as I rolled out of his grip. My joggers down around my ankles, I stumbled towards the hallway with him right behind me. Deep breaths. Hard, deep, painful breaths.
Hand in my hair, yanking me backwards. I elbowed him in the ribs.
I was breaking all the rules. I would never win, never make it past that front door.
I was better than this. Stronger than this. I fucking deserved more than this.
“Don’t you fucking touch me!” I screamed as he went for me again. I was pinned against the door, and his fist was raised, about to come down. Time seemed to slow, and I finally got a look at him.
His eyes were black. I couldn’t even make out where his irises began and his pupils ended. He was on something. Or drunk on anger. I couldn’t see it, but it was there, slowly coming to that boiling point where he’d completely lose control and his fists would rain down on me until there was nothing left.
My fault. I made him lose control.
My hand seemed to be ahead of me, reaching down to grasp the hem of my joggers. My boxers. There was something wet running down my leg. I ignored it.
“You’ve pissed yourself,” he mocked. Anger. Deep. Dark. One step towards me. Slow.
Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine.I’d lost count. Failed. Lost.
“Don’t touch me.”
I was surprised how low my voice had gone. How much control I still had. I wiped my mouth. Reached for my coat. I’d left it by the door. Fate, for once, was on my side. I hoped my phone was in my pocket. And my wallet. I didn’t need keys. I wouldn’t be coming back here.
Real-time returned, and my reflexes couldn’t save me. My nose took the brunt of the punch. He tried to grab hold of my arm, and this time, I was better prepared. I kicked. Pushed. Spat. There was too much liquid in my mouth, too much fear in my brain. Adrenaline rushed through my veins like the drugs I never took, my thoughts whizzing at warp speed as my leg kicked out.
I didn’t wait long enough for his bum to hit the floor, but I’d knocked him off balance. His arms flailed through the air as he lost the fight against gravity, and I ran, flying down three flights of stairs like I wasn’t touching the ground, my coat still in my arms as I shouldered the external door open. I didn’t dare stop long enough to shut it.
I ran, letting my feet decide where I was going. I would have run straight to the Tube, but that would have been obvious. I wasn’t wearing shoes, just socks. Topless apart from the coat in my arms. Blood streaming from my nose. I couldn’t remember where my top had gone. He must’ve ripped it off me at some point.
It hadn’t been this bad before. Or maybe it had. Maybe I’d just taken it.
I circled around the block, taking the long way to the Tube station. Still half running, I tapped myself through the gates and rode the escalator down to the tracks. There was nowhere to hide here, but at least I could see, and people could see me. A security guard eyed me up suspiciously. Shivering, I managed to get my coat on. I hadn’t noticed how cold it was. October had been cruel, and now I had nowhere to go but backwards.
I wanted to laugh. Cry. Yell with joy when I fumbled in my pockets. Phone. Wallet. Thank you, fate. The Lord above. Whoever.
No sign of Lewis. A lady walked past, looking the other way, as did I. Blood was still streaming from my nose; I wiped it away with myarm. I knew what I looked like. Some druggie hobo with no shoes. Bloodied nose. No top. Any minute now, Lewis would find me and end everything. He wouldn’t care. I wasn’t sure I would either.
