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And with those words, it confirmed to me that it wasn’t the first time he’d seen Travis hurt me. I’d thought I’d covered it up, but I should have known better. Kids didn’t miss anything happening in their home, I was a prime example of that.
I couldn’t stay. Not any longer. I had to protect the two people who meant the world to me, even if that caused me to turn my back on other people who I loved…even if it meant I had to go it alone for the first time in my life.
My heart was pounding for a completely different reason now. It wasn’t scared of whathadhappened, but whatcouldhappen from now. I was making the decision for not only me, but my sons, I just hoped it was the right one.
Rushing out of their room as my choice solidified in my mind, my feet padded on the hardwood floor across the hallway and to the other side of the house. A house that I hated. A house that would never feel like home even though I’d lived in it for seven years. It was an empty shell of plain walls, expensive art that didn’t appeal to me, and pristine surfaces. Surfaces that I was expected to clean as I was the one who “stayed home all day doing nothing.”
I refused to go into the fact that looking after two boys under the age of six was no easy task, but then, anything he could do to put me down, he would. With his words or his hands, it never mattered to him, not since that time he’d lost his shit with me when I was pregnant the first time.
Shaking my head, I finally made it to our bedroom, knowing that I should have confided in someone way back then—I should have told them what he’d done. But I’d believed him when he said he wouldn’t do it again.
Weeks. That was how long it had taken for him to slap me across the face. He was smart enough not to leave any marks back then. Now though, he didn’t give a fuck what he left behind, after all, there was only him who ever saw me.
And my brother. My big brother. His best fuckin’ friend. But that was less and less nowadays. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d seen him. Three, four, no, five months ago. It had been an entire five months and there had been nothing from him.
I paused, my feet glued to the ground as reality hit me. Travis had isolated me. How was I only just now seeing that? It was like someone had cleared the fog in my brain and now I could see the road ahead.
Stupid. I’d been so damn stupid.
Closing my eyes, I placed my palm on the bedroom wall, trying to catch my breath, trying not to let my spinning head take over. I had so little time to get everything done—to get away from here. I knew his routine down to a T. He’d knock me around, then leave, heading to the bar on the next street over, down some whisky, then would stumble in around 1 a.m. apologizing for what he’d done. Then I’d forgive him, just like I always did—just like I always thought I had to.
Not anymore though. Tonight was the final straw. Tonight, things had gone too far. Tonight, my son had witnessed what his father was really like. So I was done. Done with everything but being a mother to my two sons.
With renewed energy, I grabbed a large bag from the closet, then threw in as many clothes as I could, along with some shoes. Anything I thought I needed, I put in there. Then I got a second bag, going into the boys’ room and doing the same with their things. Neither of them stirred as I packed everything I could, and once both bags were full to the brim, I pulled them to the front door.
My ribs burned from the movement, the faded bruises from last week aching, reminding me that the time between each hit was getting less and less.
Huffing out a breath, I then opened the door and headed out to the driveway and my car. The darkness outside covered me so that no one could see what I was doing. And after a good ten minutes of dragging and lifting, I had both bags in the car.
Now all I needed was the boys. And the secret stash of money that he didn’t know I was aware of.
I left the front door open a crack, knowing that I would have to do this next part so much quicker. I grabbed my coat off the rack by the front door along with both of the boys’ coats, then headed back into our bedroom. I beelined it for the closet again, this time going into Travis’s section, and input the code to the safe. It clicked open, revealing the stacks and stacks of bills there.
Part of me wanted to clean him out completely, but I knew I couldn’t be like that—I couldn’t be that kind of person.
So I grabbed six stacks, knowing that each one had ten thousand dollars in it. It would be enough to start us a new life, to give me some breathing room until I got us settled.
Shoving them into my purse, I then sprinted to the boys’ room, gently putting Reed’s coat on first, my ten-month-old boy who saw no danger at all. Once he was ready, his eyes still fully closed, I moved over to Kian, my softhearted six-year-old with a heart of gold.
“Kian,” I whispered, tapping him softly on the shoulder. “Kian, baby, wake up.”
“Mom?” he groaned, his blond hair sticking up all over the place as his puffy eyes slowly opened. “Mom?”
“Get up, sweet boy, we’re going on an adventure.” I grinned at him, trying not to let my sadness slip past the mask that I always put on in front of them.
His eyes widened, excitement gripping him instantly. “An adventure?” He pushed his little hands on his bed, sitting up, already reaching for the coat I was holding. “We’re leaving now, Mom?”
“We sure are.” I stood, helping him find his other armhole, then placing his slippers on his feet. “Let me get Reed, then we can go.” I did a little squeal, trying to show my excitement, knowing that he would feed off of it.
He did a little dance, staying right next to me as I reached into the crib and picked Reed up. He still didn’t stir, not even as I held Kian’s hand all the way to the front door, then opened up the car.
I stood behind Kian as he climbed into the back, then I shut the door and went around to the other side, placing Reed in his seat, then strapping him in. Kian was trying his hardest to do his own straps, a grin plastered over his face that gave me hope.
“I got it,” I told him, clicking the strap in effortlessly. But then I paused, placing my hand on the side of his sweet little face. I hated that he’d witnessed anything at all last night, but I swore to myself as I stared into the bright blue eyes—the exact same as his father’s—that it would be the very last time he saw anything like that.
I was doing this for my boys. But I also knew, I was doing this to save myself, because if I didn’t run now, it would be too late. He’d destroy me without a second thought, draining the life out of me, losing himself to his anger.
It was me or him. And I was choosing me, for once in my life.
