The Taste of Redemption

by I. A. Dice

  She brushed her hair behind her ears and raised her head to look at Nick but chose not to glance my way.

  Blood circulated in my veins, thickening with every inch of her face I uncovered. Wrath gushed through me and grew swiftly like something ravenous, all-seeing and demonic.

  A purple bruise on her cheekbone, a split lip, a yellow bruise on her chin, and more on her neck.

  My thoughts lost their former acuteness, spreading and unravelling different layers of endless, diseased reality. My mind raced, connecting the dots, simultaneously refusing to recognise that this wasn’t a dream.

  And the violence… It quivered inside me like a loose, live wire, ready to unleash on the motherfucker who dared to lay his hands on Nadia.

  “What happened?” Nick choked, glued to the spot. “What happened to your face?!”

  The sight was too much to take for either of us. I dropped my gaze to the floor, bile coming up to my throat. I went through a fair share of shit in my life; I watched my friend die. I watched others die… dozens of soldiers, hundreds of civilians. I watched hunger, poverty and destruction, but nothing could compare to what I felt when I saw Nadia’s bruised face. My heart, mind and everything else were ripped open like a letter with a knife.

  Every panic attack I witnessed, every sentence she spoke about her problems, her reaction to the news about Adrian’s suicide attempt and Nick’s screams when he found out about us all those months ago… It came back to me like the aftershock of an earthquake.

  Small pieces of the puzzle fell into place. I finally understood why she was so hurt. I understood that her eyes were never filled with secrets. They were filled with despair.

  Nadia chose that moment to look at me. Our eyes locked, and her face blanched with shame. My stomach twisted like a wrenched rag when she brought her hands up to her face to cover the bruises. I was on the verge of overloading; not far from allowing the wrath to take control, I clenched my jaw hard to keep it together.

  I wanted to scream, hit the walls and run to New York to tie a fucking rope around Adrian’s neck myself, but if there was ever a time for me to step-up, then this was it.

  I crouched beside her, taking her pencil-stained hands in mine. My heart fluttered when she relaxed under my touch, her body drifting toward me in an involuntary reflex, as if seeking protection. Four months didn’t diminish the effect my proximity had on her. She stopped trembling and looked into my eyes, hers full of sadness.

  “Adrian did that?” I asked, knowing damn well he did, but I had to tread lightly.

  The frightened-lamb look on her face kicked my ability to control my temper up to never-before-seen levels. I drew small circles on the back of her hand with my thumb; my throat dry, voice coarse. There was no telling where my strength came from. I sure didn’t feel strong. I was trapped somewhere between insanity and the land of the mad.

  No words left her lips, but she gave me a small nod.

  “It wasn’t the first time, was it?”

  Nadia remained silent for a long time. She stared at our interlocked fingers, as if remembering every single time that piece-of-shit hit her.

  “Drugs made him aggressive,” she said.

  My jaw tightened again, and my eyes fluttered shut for a moment so I could compose myself. Nadia lived through her share of violence, and although I wanted to trash the house and scream at her for going back to Adrian, I held it in. Scaring her was out of the fucking question.

  “I…” She cleared her throat. “I was naïve. For months I thought he’d quit, but he refused to get help…” her voice broke, and she looked at Nick. “I should’ve told you sooner.”

  She wasn’t crying. Her eyes didn’t even tear up, and it was like another low blow to my stomach, because I knew she experienced this so many times that she was no longer hurt or surprised.

  “Why did you go back?” Nick cried, his voice a portrayal of my agonising mind. “Nadia, he hit you! You should’ve left the moment he did it, but you stayed! How long was thing going on for?”

  She squeezed my hands and swallowed hard. For a moment I thought she was going to lie, but she must have reached her limit, and she understood that Adrian didn’t deserve her protection.

  “Since January.”

  January? She came home in June. Six months of abuse. Six months of pain and fear.

  God, she tried to tell me all along. She was hinting the abuse, but I was too blind to decipher the clues.

  “I know you want me,” I said. “And since I’m the only one you’re not afraid of…”

  “Doesn’t it scare you?” Nadia cut in, crossing her arms.

  “That you trust me? That you’re not anxious when I’m close? It’s intriguing, not scary.”

  “It should be.”

  “What’s worse,” Nadia whispered, “pain or fear?”

  I didn’t blink, afraid to miss her reaction.

  “Pain.”

  “Fear,” she countered. “It lasts longer.”

  Nadia snapped me out of the memories of the small pieces of puzzle that fell in place and revealed a spine-chilling image.

  “It wasn’t so bad at first… It just got worse every time he got high, but I really thought he could stop,” she paused to inhale, then gritted her teeth, adamant to keep talking. “I wanted to help him the way he helped me, but he took it too far, and I had to leave.”

  “Too far?” Nick repeated. “Hitting you for the first time was too fucking far, sis. What the hell did he do?!”

  She looked at me, then at Nick, but she couldn’t speak while holding our gaze and ended up eyeing the wall. Her shame fuelled the fire raging inside me.

  “He dragged me out of my dorm room one night. He was always jealous, but when he started using, his paranoia grew stronger. He got it in his head that me and Ty were sleeping around… He threw me down a flight of stairs. I broke two ribs.”

  The images played before my eyes. I felt sick. There were no words to describe how vile a man had to be to hurt a woman. I doubted even devil himself wanted those fuckers in his kingdom.

  “The campus security called the police. Adrian’s mother was informed. She bribed a rehab facility to admit him against his will, and I packed my bags, but I had to wait for my ribs to heal first because I couldn’t take a breath without bursting into tears… And I didn’t want you to know what Adrian did, because it wasn’t him. It was the drugs,” Nadia explained, her voice small. “I thought it was over, but then he tried to kill himself. He got clean for me, and I wasn’t there. What choice did I have? I had to go. I couldn’t let him try again.”

  Then it hit me. It was the reason why Ty left it to Nick to inform Nadia about Adrian’s second suicide attempt. He knew her reaction would depend on her mental state. If she was willing to fight for him, it would crush her inside out, but if she finally saw him for who he was, there was a chance she could bear the news.

  “He was doing so good all those months, and he even realised that I couldn’t love him. He told me to go…”

  She was getting closer and closer to another panic attack, and I wasn’t having it. No fucking way. I couldn’t watch her vulnerability and do nothing. I cupped her face, careful not to press on the bruises. A shaky breath left her lips, my touch working better than any pills.

  “Look at me,” I pleaded, my heart breaking every time my eyes roamed over her face. “This isn’t your fault. If he loved you, he would’ve stayed away until he was certain he wouldn’t hurt you again.”

  She bit her lip, first tears dancing in her eyes.

  “I stabbed him.”

  I dropped my hands back to hers when she opened her mouth, ready to tell us the whole truth. Words kept coming as if a dame burst. With every next sentence, she squeezed my hands tighter, feeding off whatever strength she found.

  “I used to be passive; I took every ounce of his anger, not even trying to defend myself, but this time was different…” she stopped to take a deep breath.

  Her face twisted with pain,
she let go of me, and doubled over, holding onto her side.

  “What’s wrong?” Nick asked, coming closer.

  “Just bruised ribs this time,” she uttered, breathless.

  She continued with her story, unaware that her words broke something deep inside me—the part of my character that believed everyone deserved a chance to redeem themselves.

  Adrian didn’t.

  He deserved to suffer. He knew it when he tied the rope around his neck. He knew that life filled with suffering was all that was waiting for him, and he chose the easiest way out. Too bad it didn’t pan out.

  “I tried to talk him out of…” Nadia hesitated, unable to call the abuse for what it was. “When that failed, I grabbed the knife.”

  Not even my proximity could ease her torment when she told us how things played out that night. She shook all over, and eventually let go of my hands and moved away, hugging her knees, even though it seemed to cause her more pain.

  Nick sat beside her when I moved across to the far end of the couch, despising the invisible wall that suddenly separated me from Nadia.

  “Have you seen a doctor?” Nick asked a while later.

  He had a hard time processing the news, and an even harder time keeping himself in check, but he ignored the overwhelming feelings for Nadia’s sake, trying to be her pillar.

  “There wasn’t time. The paramedic looked me over, and told me to head to the emergency room, but Ty didn’t want to risk the police questioning me in case they’d stop me from flying back home. Besides, all I’d get were painkillers.”

  I wasn’t sure what hurt me more: the fact that she knew what the doctors would do about her bruised ribs, or that she accepted the bruises and cuts as something normal.

  “We need to get you checked over, but we’ll do it tomorrow at the private clinic instead of spending the night at the A&E. I’ll call Mel to get the guest bedroom ready. You’re staying with us for now.”

  Nadia shook her head, her eyes wide. “No, that’s not a good idea.”

  “I wasn’t asking, sis. I’m not letting you stay here alone. What if Adrian checks out of rehab and comes over?”

  There was something in Nadia’s stance that had me bracing for more excuses on Adrian’s behalf. More lies she fed herself with for months.

  “I’m fine.” She wiped the tears from her eyes. “I just need to get up and keep going.”

  “I fucking hate what he did to you,” Nick snapped. “I’m sorry I hadn’t figured it out, but don’t expect me to leave you here. I’ll help you any way I can, I swear. Until you’re truly better, and until I’m sure he’s gone from your life, you’re staying with me.”

  “He’s not a bad person, you know. He’s just lost.”

  The annoyance I struggled to keep in spilled from Nick’s mouth with no filters.

  “I swear, if you try to defend him ever again, I’ll have you admitted. You can’t keep doing this! He’s not a good person.”

  “Don’t say that. It’s the drugs. Without them he’s okay…”

  “You think he wanted you to stay because he loves you? No. It’s because he owns you. He knows that no matter how much he hurts you, you’ll forgive him. You are the victim here, Nadia, not him. You.”

  I never thought Nick could see past the love he had for his sister and assess the situation for what it was. His words stung, but it seemed the only way to show Adrian as the abuser, not a helpless victim of his own addiction.

  “I know. I don’t think he can be saved,” Nadia muttered. “And I no longer want to try. It’s gone on too long.”

  Nick and I traded glances. It was the best moment to tell her what he tried to do, but he shook his head. His reluctance was understandable, but it would make things much harder.

  “I’ll do it if you want,” I told him.

  It wasn’t my job, but it didn’t mean shit. The longer we waited, the worse the repercussions, and she’s been through enough. She had to process it while she was in the right frame of mind—not willing to help him anymore.

  Nick hesitated, glaring around the room as if searching for the right words. A couple of minutes of hugging her to his side, he pushed her away, and took his phone out of the pocket, and left the room to call Amelia.

  I opened my mouth but thought better of it. Maybe Nick had a point. Nadia was vulnerable, confused and still tried to defend him. We both wanted to keep her away from Adrian at all costs, even if it meant withholding information. Last time he tried to kill himself, she packed her bags. There was no way either of us would let her do that again; we didn’t want to see her revert into saviour mode.

  Nadia crossed the room, taking a packet of cigarettes from the coffee table. She opened the balcony door, but stayed inside, inhaling the smoke.

  There were enough drawings around to fill a decent-sized gallery. One of the pieces closest to me showed Nadia’s alter ego—the girl in white dress—kneeling before something that looked like a make-shift grave in the middle of a dark, sinister forest. Her hands were dirty as if she dug it herself, her dress stained. Fog surrounded the dark trees. A barely visible silhouette of a man was everywhere, yet nowhere.

  It was beautiful but heart-wrenching. I stared at the piece, feeling the emotions she wanted to show. There were words carved onto the stone on the picture that I haven’t noticed before.

  “Bury it underground, cover it with a stone, and I’ll dig out the bones anyway. What am I?” Nadia recited.

  She watched me, resting by the open balcony door, a cigarette in-between her pencil-stained fingers. I joined her, welcoming the chilly December air that ruffled the curtains with relief.

  “Don’t hide whatever is going on inside your head for anyone’s sake. You can’t run away forever.”

  She inhaled the smoke, watching the dark, starless sky. There was no guessing what she thought about.

  Nick came back to the living room. “Mel is waiting; you want to pack something?”

  Nadia shook her head, and threw the cigarette over the railing, walking around me, her face stoic.

  “I haven’t unpacked my bags yet.”

  I gathered some pills from the coffee table and grabbed one of the few new sketchpads along with a handful of pencils before I followed them out of the apartment.

  We didn’t speak much on our way to the cottage, but I watched Nadia in the rear-view mirror the same way I did when Nick and I picked her up from the airport six months earlier.

  Amelia waited in the kitchen, a bottle of wine on the counter, the rim of a half-empty glass pressed to her lips. Her eyes were red, hinting that Nick must have told her the story or the main bits, at least.

  She rose from the chair when we entered, and for three seconds, she kept her composure. Then she lost it. She hugged Nadia, crying like I hadn’t seen her cry before.

  “Don’t cry,” Nadia said, too strong for her own good. “I’m okay.”

  It did nothing to calm Mel, but it did a lot to turn my stomach. How could she consider what Adrian did as “okay”?

  Amelia disappeared in the living room only to re-emerge moments later with a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses in hand.

  “Come on. Girls night in.”

  Mel tugged on Nadia’s right hand, but I caught the other, my chest heavy. I didn’t want to lose her out of my sight.

  “Did you take any pills tonight?”

  A shadow of a smile crossed her lips. “Nothing I can’t mix.” She let go of Mel and pressed her body against mine, hands flat on my chest.

  I wrapped her in my arms immediately, a tingling sensation in the pit of my stomach.

  “Thank you,” she said and moved away, my body cold, and missing her already. “Goodnight.”

  I stood in the hallway until they disappeared at the top of the stairs. Nick patted my back, gesturing toward the leaving room.

  “You want a drink?”

  “No.” No amount of alcohol could numb my messed-up mind. I plopped on the couch. “How are you holding up?�
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  “Me?” he scoffed, pouring whiskey into a crystal glass. “I haven’t felt so detached since my father died. I can’t wrap my head around this. I hate what Adrian did; I hate that she was afraid to tell me; and I hate that I hadn’t figured it out sooner. There’s no way I would’ve let her go back there…”

  He sat in the wing chair, placed a glass on a side table and pulled on his hair, his face pale. He stared at the floor, gathering his thoughts for a long time before he looked back to me.

  “I think I’m doing better than you, mate,” he pointed to my hands. “You haven’t stopped shaking since Ty called.”

  Shaking was just the visual representation of the madness happening inside my every cell, and Nick knew that. I didn’t need to spell it out for him. His sister was still the centre of my world, even though I tried to chase the feelings away.

  “You should call him.”

  I closed the living room door so the girls wouldn’t hear the conversation. Nick dialled Ty’s number, put the loudspeaker on and laid the phone on the coffee table.

  “You got her?” Ty answered, his voice tense.

  “Yeah. I should break your fucking neck,” Nick hissed. “How could you keep it a secret?! You should’ve told me!”

  Should have, would have, could have…

  It was too late for this shit. The damage was done. We had to help Nadia deal with the trauma, instead of screaming and placing the blame on ourselves, Ty, Adrian, karma and fate.

  “I know,” Ty sighed, “I’m sorry. I wanted to call you, believe me. I tried so many times, but at some point, I gave up. I hated being the one to trigger her panic attacks.”

  Nick rubbed his face, gulping the last of his whiskey.

  “Now’s your chance to talk. I want to know what it looked like, because all Nadia does if defend that piece of shit. I want the truth, Ty.”

  I changed my mind about drinking the moment Ty started to speak, filling my head with sick images.

  “At first we were both stupid,” he began. “We tried to help Adrian quit, but it soon became clear that wouldn’t work, and all I tried to do was to separate them,” he scoffed. “That girl is reckless, Nick. Honest to God. Every time he got high, the abuse got worse, but she still made excuses for him,” he spat out sounding exhausted and reproachful. “She ran to me in tears, in pain so many times, but there was no reasoning with her. Adrian waltzed in the next morning, begging, crying and apologising. I watched Nadia hide the bruises and forgive him every time he made a punching bag out of her.”