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Then it hits me.
Fuck.
Caleb is already home. He hates it when he gets home before I do, because it means that he has to wait for me to make dinner. All of a sudden, everything inside me tightens and I slowly start to tremble. I hate how quiet everything is, because I know that it’s just a precursor of the storm that is fixing to hit. I slowly take the stairs to our bedroom, one careful step at a time.
“Caleb?” I call out, but there isn’t a response. With quick steps, I head for our bedroom, where I find him staring out the window to the streetbelow, his fist angrily clenched at his side. Shit--this is not good. I’ve been home for less than five minutes, and he is already angry with me. I quietly move to the center of the room and freeze. I know as soon as he sees me, all hell will break loose. Just thinking about the world of pain that lies ahead makes me unconsciously slip out a slight whimpering sound.Oh god.At the sound of my whimper, Caleb instantly turns around to face me, a deep scowl set on his face.
“Who the hell were you talking to today, bitch?” He growls out angrily.
Although I knew it was coming, the vehemence in his voice startles me and I start to back away from him. I have no idea what he is talking about, but I know that I have to say something, because if I don’t, things will be so much worse.
“Just clients, Caleb. No one else, I promise.”I assure him in the calmest voice that I can manage, not wanting him to get angry and lose his temper.
I never know what he is going to do when he gets angry like this, and I’m ashamed to admitthat he’s hurt me plenty of times before. I’ve been to the hospital more times than I can count in the past few years that we’ve been together; broken ribs being his specialty. My body is riddled in scars, and while not all of them were from him, a good portion of them were created by his hand. I was brought up in an abusive home, forced to live in a world of pain and abandonment. Facing this as a child was a nightmare, but now facing it as an adult, my fears are being taken to a whole other level. It seems to be my fate…My curse. Sometimes, I sit alone and reminisce about how everything was when we first started dating. Caleb and I dated for almost two years before moving in together, and a year after that, he asked me to marry him. He was gentle and loving, and knew all about my past. I thought he was the perfect man.
That all changed after the first time that I caught him cheating on me. I came home early from work one day, to see him screwing some random girl, doggie style, in our bed. Our fucking bed! Naturally, I made a scene and gave attitude before yelling in his face that I was leaving him, but before I could take my first step towards the door, he literally knocked the wind out of my sails as his pulled his arm back then slapped his hand on to the crest of my cheek, causing me to fall to the ground. It was the first time that he had ever laid his hands on me. After the pain and shock wore off, I made an attempt to hit him back, but that only made things worse. After he had his fill of me, he grabbed the stunned girl from her crouch on the floor and shoved her out in to the hallway of the apartment complex. While he showered in the next room, I laid on the bed, wrapped up in the sheets that were covered in the smell of his infidelity, and cried. I swore to myself that I would never let him touch me like that again, but Caleb has always had a way with words and after a heartfelt apology, I forgave him. That was probably the biggest mistake of my life.
The second time happened months later when I saw him kissing another woman in front of our favorite coffee shop. I ran back to our house and immediately started to pack my things, even though I didn’t know where I was going to go, or how I was going to get there. I just knew that I couldn’t stay with him anymore. Caleb came home shortly after and saw my packed bags. His cool demeanor snapped as he started yelling at me about how worthless I was and that I could never leave him. I tried to get around him and out of the front door, but he caught me around my upper arm and slammed my head against the wall--hard. I fell down to my knees, blinded by pain, as he started to kick me over and over again on the cold, wooden floor.
After he was done, he didn’t bother saying a word to me as he left the house. I laid on the floor in a pool of my own blood, with tears running down my face. I couldn’t get up; I could barely even move. A few hours later, Caleb shuffled into the door reeking ofliquor and found me curled up in a ball on the ground. After letting out a long sigh, he picked me up in his arms and carried me to the bed. Tucking me beneath the covers, Caleb laid behind me and began to weep. He apologized for hurting me and swore that it would never happen again. I knew better than to tell him that he promised that after it happened the first time too. His excuse this go round was that he had been stressed at work, and acted without thinking. He swore that the girl was just a one-time thing and that she meant nothing to him because I was the only woman that he could ever love. I didn’t want to forgive him. My heart refused, but after he held on to me throughout the night, weeping his soul out on to our bed, I forgave him again. Part of me believed that he was truly sorry, and would never do such a thing to me ever again, but I was deathly wrong.
As time passed, the abuse got worse. Caleb began to get jealous, possessive and out of control whenever I was around anyone of the opposite sex. I couldn’t even look at another man without him showing me his displeasure over it. I’ve tried leaving him many times, but each time he’s found me and begged me to come back home, blanketing me in promises of happiness and healing, but those promises were always short lived. Over the last six months, I’ve stopped trying to leave because it just makes the abuse worse. I’ve lost all hope in ever getting rid of this nightmare, and have learned to accept the shitty cards that life has dealt me.
Ripping me from my memories, the sound of heavy footsteps forces me to open my eyes and see that Caleb is beginning to stalk towardme.Please God, let this be quick,I pray to myself as his first strike hits me upside of my head. I fall to the floor with the impact while blood starts to gush from my mouth. Like a dumbass, I start to stand back up, but he kicks me in the ribs-- hard. I should never have moved. Moving and trying to escape makes Caleb’s rage sky rocket. I let out a strangled scream that enrages him even more as he jerks me up by the hair and drags me to the top of the stairs.
“Caleb, please don’t do this. Please,” I beg him, but my pleas fall upon deaf ears as he shoves me down the flight of stairs.
By the time I hit the bottom, I can barely move. Everything hurts. It all just hurts so fucking bad. I try roll over so I can force myself to stand up, but I can’t. I think my leg is broken. Loud thumps come from above me, as I see Caleb come down the stairs and hover above me. His eyes are rich pools of heat, and I instantly still. My heart fills to the brim with terror. This man is going to kill me. I can feel it. Before I can ask what he’s going to do to me, he pulls something from behind his back and plunges a knife into my stomach. Sharp spasms of pain rip through my body as I scream, over and over again, with each stab he delivers into my body. The pain… Oh God the pain is never ending. Finally, my screams die down to a hoarse moan as I begin to black out. I feel like I’m floating. Could this be what death feels like? Just floating, and feeling free? As I slide into oblivion, I hear Caleb talking to himself.
“If I can’t have you…No one will.”
~***~
Bright light burns my eyes as I finally pry them open. My ears are assaulted with the sounds of strange noises as I finally manage to fully wake up from the deep slumber that I had been in. Where am I? Oh…of course. Caleb really did a number on me this time. God, everything hurts so badly. I notice I’m in a small sterile white room-- the hospital again. There areall sorts of machines lining my bedside and a number of electrodes and IVs placed on to my body. I try lifting up my arm to look at one of the IVs, but I can’t move; my body is so sore and tight.Fuck!What the hell happened to me? Frustrated, I lay my head back on to the pillow and look toward the window. How long have I been out for?
I have to report it this time. I have to finally speak up because this time he has gone too far.
I hear the door open and my eyes freeze on the door. No! What am I going to do? I can’t see Caleb. Oh my God. He’s going to try to kill me again, I know it! This is the moment Caleb always walks through with flowers.
I let out a breath of relief when I see that it’s not him. A tall brown haired man with a white coat walks in the room. He casually walks over to me whilereading my chart and notices that I am awake.
“Miss Sullivan, glad to see you’re finally awake. How are you feeling?” He moves to the right side of my bed and places his hand on my shoulder.
“Sore.” Wow. What the hell? My voice sounds all crackly and muffled. Fuck, it hurts to talk.
“You’ve been in a coma for about four months now. I am sure you feel a little more than sore.” I try to move, but he places his hand on my shoulder. “You need to take it easy.” What the hell did he just say? Four months?! Oh my god. “Do you remember what happened to you?”
I shake my head, too shocked to speak right now. “Can you tell me what happened, please?” I whisper out.
He looks at my chart and starts to recite my injuries. “You’ve suffered multiple stab wounds, a broken leg, a concussion, and lots of internal bleeding. Miss Sullivan, I’m sorry to inform you that most of the stab wounds were localized to your lower stomach.” He brings a chair over and sits down, then takes my hand and looks at me with sad eyes. “Most of which, damaged your uterus. We tried everything that we could to heal the damages to your stomach, but with the severity of your injuries,” he pauses, “I’m afraid you will never be able to carry a child of your own.”
I let out a heavy sob. I’ve always wanted to have children one day. Now, I can’t, and it’s all because of Caleb. I’m so stupid for staying with him. This is entirely my fault. If only I had left sooner... I turn my head away from my doctor. How will I be able to breathe again? I think to myself as I see all of my dreams slowly start to float away from me.
“We’ll continue to monitor you for the next few days, and if all goes well you should be on your way out of here soon. Although, I will have to inform the officers assigned to your case that you are finally awake. Do you think you’ll be ready to begin answering some of their questions in a bit?”
I nod, but can’t bring myself to look at him. The doctor pats me on the shoulder before he leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. Holy shit. Four fucking months? My work… my friends. I close my eyes to take everything in, when the door opens again. Please don’t be Caleb. Please. Thankfully, it’s not. It’s a thin female officer who looks to be in her forties. Carefully approaching the chair on the right side of my bed, she gently places her briefcase on the ground before taking a seat in the worn yellow chair and bringing her eyes to my face.
“Miss. Sullivan,how are you sweetie? My name is Officer Connors.”
