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She sniffed softly, the cold wind biting at her cheeks. She pulled her sweater closer around her, her bag banging her leg. She limped slightly, the weight of her books pulling on her shoulder. She wiped at the wetness streaming from her eyes, hurrying past the other people. As she reached back to pull up her hood, she chuckled sadly to herself. It was true she might as well be invisible for all the notice paid to her. People rushed by, chatting on cell phones, laughing with their friends, hurrying to their destinations, seeking shelter from the cold. No one noticed the girl, for which she was immensely thankful this once.

Her hood hiding her face, she was able to become just a pair of eyes, hiding from the cruel world that surrounded her. She clutched her bag tightly as she stood, waiting to cross the street. A particularly cold gust of wind blew her hood off and caused her eyes to tear from the wind. She reached back to grab the hood when someone touched her arm. She jumped slightly and turned. Startled, she found herself staring at Jon.

His grin fell quickly as hi eyes skimmed her face. He reached out, his fingertips lightly touching the bruised, discolored puffiness that used to be her right cheek. She winced slightly at the warmth of his touch. She drew back, pain filling her eyes, knowing how she must look to him. The bruises a physical manifestation of the psychological battering she had already endured. She turned away, prepared to flee. But he did it again. Didn't grab her; she could have done something back to him for hurting her and commanding her through the force of his grip. Rather he touched her lightly, caringly, concernedly. She turned back to him, unable to escape the strange spell he had cast. She looked up at him, willing him not to care...not to make her care.

His eyes searched her face, questioning. Realization bloomed in his features. He checked his watch, cursed, then reached out and took her hand.

"Daine, come one, we need to talk." He drew her away from the crowd, and she followed, perhaps foolishly or perhaps seeking the safety she inherently knew only he could offer at this time.

As he led her down the block her tired brain started to work, understanding why he had looked at his watch. She stopped short and he turned around to look at her. She looked at him worriedly, part of her dying for him to leave her alone, the other part knowing she couldn't survive if he did.
"Don't you have class? Jon, don't worry about me. I can take care of myself."

He laughed, his eyes dark. "I can see how well you can take care of yourself. You took care of yourself so well you came out black and blue. I can't let you keep this up, Daine." He turned away again, and started walking, expecting her to follow. She trotted along behind him, her bag banging painfully against her leg. She wondered why he cared so much. She shrugged slightly, knowing she would get her answers eventually.

He opened a door, holding it for her. She entered and then realized he was taking her back to his apartment. Immediately she balked, an unfounded fear causing her to stall. Memories flared up momentarily and she shook her head angrily at herself as she followed him up the stairs. This was Jon. She was safe with Jon. An annoying voice reminded her she had though the same thing about Dereck. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind. She hissed as she ran into the banister, hitting a particularly ugly bruise.

He looked at her, his face stormy. "Nuts Daine. How..."
He trod away angrily, keying into his apartment and letting the door bang open. She followed him timidly, scared of his sudden aggressiveness and at the same time fascinated with him. She watched him pace around his apartment, running his hands through his hair, breathing heavily.

Daine stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching. She sighed softly, glad to be out of the cold. However the warmth had the double effect of returning feeling to her numb body, and with that return came the stinging feeling of bruises once again.

He finally stopped pacing and came over to her.
"Daine, what happened? I've been trying to sort this all out...and I can't figure anything out. So I need you to tell me...I need to understand." His voice was so earnest, she melted, any defenses she had built up falling away. She sank down on his couch, looking up at him with tears in her eyes.

"It's alright, he didn't mean to do it. He was right. It was all my fault."

He turned on her angrily. "Don't tell me you think you can blame this on yourself. Diane, think of this logically please." He knelt down in front of her so he was eye level with her. He took her hands in his, his eyes pleading, worried, and caring. She drew back closing her eyes, withdrawing into her painful memories.

As she prepared dinner, she started to sing, trying to distill the silence that enveloped the house. Dereck entered in a drunken stupor, banding the door against the wall so hard the windows rattled. He stormed into the kitchen, grabbing her around the waist and turning her to face him. He pushed her against the counter, leaning over her, the smell of whiskey and stale cigarette smoke washing over her.

"Hullo, wench. I'm home." She winced at his words, clenching her fists angrily. He forced a wet kiss on her, not appearing to notice the rigid position of her body. He rested his head against her chest, breathing heavily. She hated it when he came home drunk. He was so belligerent and all she could do was hope he would pass out in front of the television before he could come after her further. She sometimes questioned how she had ended up here, where all her dreams had gone. She was dragged back to reality when he left a wet kiss on her bosom. She sighed heavily, her mind on the dinner she had been preparing.

That single action sealed her fate. He looked up at her, his eyes flashing with the slight recognition that she was no longer blindly in love with him. His alcohol-laden brain was unable to process the information properly, though. He stood straight, grabbing her arms hard and shaking her slightly.

"What's going through that pretty little head of yours, Daine?" His words slurred slightly and he glared at her. "You not happy any more? You think there might be something better out there? Well, Daine, you can't leave me. And you know it. I provide for you. The food you're preparing, the apartment that you live in--it's all me."

Her eyes teared slightly at the pain shooting through her arms as he held her roughly. She knew he was right. He didn't force himself on her ever. They had started living together, her taking care of the house and him earning the money. She had been timid about sleeping together and he had been fine with that originally. She didn't have a job and her meager savings had been running low. He had taken her in unconditionally and she had been grateful. Now, three months later, she was stuck with no money and no job. He had been pressuring her more and more frequently to giver herself to him completely, climbing into bed with her at night, cajoling her, threatening her, begging her.

He shook her again, mistaking her tears of pain for something else. "That's right, Daine. You know that you can't leave and you know I've been good to you."

He forced his mouth on hers again, running his hands up her legs and gripping her waist painfully. Her heart raced with fear, uncertain as to what he was doing. He moved his mouth against hers and she stood still, her hands gripping the counter behind her, the edge pressing into the small of her back painfully.

He pulled back sharply, his eyes glinting menacingly. "Kiss me back slut." He moved his body slightly so he could press his erection against her leg. She shuddered in repulsion. "You are such a tease. You know you want it, you whore. So stop denying me. What's wrong? Am I not as good as your precious friend Jon? Jon is perfect, isn't he? Except you two are "just friends". Well, Daine, you're letting that b*****d touch you. I can tell by the way you look at him." She flinched, the smell of his breath nauseating her. "Look at you, you hypocritical whore. You know I'm right." He leaned over her and she cried out as she bent backwards over the counter painfully.

"Stop Dereck, please! You're hurting me." In response, he smashed his mouth into hers, his hands running up and down the length of her body. She had never been so repulsed. He ran his hand up her body, brushing her breast, then squeezing her jaw, forcing her mouth open. He moaned as he thrust his tongue down her throat. She now could taste the bitter whiskey.

He pulled back and she breathed a sigh of relief. But the relief was short lived. He grabbed her wrists, dragging her away from the kitchen.

"It's time you finally gave me what you're so apparently willing to give to anyone else." Before she could react, he picked her up, cradling her in his arms. She punched him in the arm, pushing at him, fear making her wild.

"Dereck, no! Stop! You're drunk!"

He chuckled. "Yes, I may be drunk, but I intend to enjoy you finally." He dropped her on the bed. She rolled, trying to get away, but he grabbed her, dragging her back towards him. "b***h, I'm tired of playing games. Willing or unwilling, I'm getting what I want, you ungrateful slut." He started to unbutton her shirt as he climbed on top of her, sitting on her legs. She squirmed, hearing the truth in his words. She was ungrateful for everything he had done for her. As he started unbuttoning her pants, she began to fight back harder. True, she didn't thank him enough, but this wasn't how she intended to pay him back.

She started to scream mindless words. Startled, he stopped fumbling with her pants and clapped his free hand over her mouth.

"Shut up whore. You're going to bring the entire neighborhood in here."

He made the mistake of collapsing his hand enough for her teeth to find a good purchase. She bit with all she was worth and listened to his own cry of pain. Her triumph was short-lived though, as he started to punch her. His blind rage allowed her to avoid many of his blows.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as one of his blows caught her on her cheek. The pain brought stars to her eyes and she felt herself starting to lose consciousness. She struggled to keep fighting, but her body couldn't handle the pain and she felt herself floating into darkness.

When she awoke, the house was still and dark. She struggled to sit up, her muscles screaming in pain. Mentally she began checking herself from head to toe. No broken bones, that was a good sign. She stood up slowly, re-buttoning her jeans. She supposed she should be thankful he had been too drunk to get those off, but somehow she wasn't feeling to thankful for anything...other than that by some miracle she was still alive. She slowly crept through the house, listening for any sign that he might be home. Looking out the front window, she saw that his truck was gone and she breathed a sigh of relief. Locking the front door, she felt more secure, knowing he wouldn't return tonight. She grabbed a towel and turned on the shower, letting the water warm up. She gazed at her appearance in the mirror, wincing at the puffy bruises forming on her face. She touched the dried blood on her lip before stripping off her clothing. Bruises in the form of fingerprints adorned her shoulders and hips and her abdomen swelled slightly, already discoloring. She stepped under the warm water, letting the water wash away the pain and stiffness. She dunked her head, then grabbed a rag and started washing. As she thought, she scrubbed her skin harder, trying to wash the taint of him off her. She bit her lip as she cried out in pain as she hit her sensitive bruises.


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A part of a novel I'm writing. Copyright 2005