Capture Me

by Amber Thielman

Kass unclasped the necklace from where it hung and dropped it onto the vanity. She was too bitter tonight to wear it for him, not after their argument just now. She also wouldn’t want it to draw attention to the potential bruise forming on her chest from where he’d slammed her with his hand.

  Kass could hide things well. It was an art she’d perfected over the years, an incredible poker face that came in handy when all she wanted to do was fall apart and succumb to the vexing madness of her crushing thoughts. Sometimes they were too much, her emotions, and yet on the outside nobody would guess she was screaming for help, begging for an escape, always wondering if there was more to this life than what she could see in front of her.

  She closed her bedroom door behind her and walked steadily towards the living room, ignoring the curious stares of the surrounding partygoers. Most glances were from women just like her who could sense that pain in another being; a tear-stained face, a stiff walk, drooping chin. While so many people in Kass’s life could detect that something might be wrong, nobody could really ever figure out just what it was. Including Kass herself.

  The dull thudding in her chest had faded, but she already knew when she took off her clothes before bed tonight, she’d find it developing there, black and blue and tender.

  She grabbed a drink from the cooler by the wall and took a seat on her and Abby's faded couch, tucking her legs beneath her. As she chugged her beer, wishing she’d started drinking earlier, she caught sight of the letter sitting folded on the coffee table. Someone had used it as a coaster, but Kass couldn’t find the desire to move it out from under the collecting condensation. The professional stamp on the front of it said it was from The University of the Washington School of Medicine. And inside that letter was a brief hello, congratulations, a high five for being accepted into medical school. You are one of so few, Miss Harding, so pat yourself on the back for working tirelessly for so many years.

  Blah. Blah. Blah.

  She rested her eyes on the letter for a moment, chewing her bottom lip. Years and years of backbreaking work, of all-night study sessions, of stressful classes, and days and nights of endless, sob-worthy tests and exams. All this work, all that time, and she was finally there.

  A dream come true, that was, and yet somewhere in her heart, all she wanted to do was cry.

  “Jungle juice?” Abby dropped next to her on the couch and handed her a red cup filled to the brim with some concoction Kass couldn’t pinpoint. Dressed in a mini skirt and a sequined tank top, Abby clutched a bottle of beer between fingers with blood red fingernails, frizzy hair down and wild about her face. Her fair complexion looked flushed with red, eyes glazed over in a half-drunken stupor. “What do you think of the party?” She shouted over the music. “Everything you hoped for?”

  “And then some,” Kass responded, and she forced a smile for Abby’s sake. She bit her lip to keep herself from saying she wished she was still at work, running EMS calls and celebrating her acceptance to medical school in the most appropriate of ways she could, by saving lives. Forget Ryan, forget the whole party, she hated these things.

  Kass, however, said none of that, because her roommate and best friend tried really hard to make events special, to celebrate Kass’s success. The least she could do was pretend to be grateful, even though she knew damn well that maybe two or three people in the entire house knew who or what the party was even for, but Kass didn’t mind. She could have a good time if she wanted to. It was her party after all.

  She set the bottle of beer down and sipped the new concoction, trying to place the different liquors. She tasted vodka. Malibu Rum. Everclear, maybe. While Kass hated the thought of losing control and doing something stupid while under the influence of alcohol, she felt tonight she deserved to relax a little. Losing control frightened her; it was the reason she wasn’t big on alcohol. She’d seen firsthand what liquor could do to a person, and she wanted no part of it.

  “Hey,” Abby said. She elbowed her softly in the ribs. Kass winced, drawing in a sharp breath, but Abby didn’t seem to notice. “You know I’m proud of you, right? Not that I didn’t think you would get in, because we all knew you would, but I’m so proud of you.”

  “I know. Thank you.” She tilted her head to rest it on Abby’s shoulder and closed her eyes, wishing that life could slow down for a bit, give her a break. She felt she could sleep for days, months even, but it was rare that she didn’t feel that way anymore. Every day was like the other, it felt, a mundane routine in her super-controlled world. The thought of med school exhilarated her, as did anything in academics, but at the same time it made her tired and anxious, a shitty combination for anyone, but especially for her.

  “Who is Ryan talking to?” Abby asked, pulling Kass from her exhaustion. Ryan was across the floor, talking to a young, perky blond-haired woman. The girl leaned into him, her manicured hand caressing his back as she giggled something in his ear. Ryan reached out to the girl and squeezed her shoulder, hand lingering a few seconds too long. The blonde laughed—her high-pitched giggle ringing through the air—and said something else, but Kass couldn't hear the words over the roar of the music.

  She raised the cup to her lips and took another sip, wondering how many more drinks she’d have to chug before she could get that image out of her head.

  “Shit,” Abby said. “She might as well be sitting in his lap. Is she even legal?”

  “He's drunk and mad at me,” Kass said, and she realized she was trying to make excuses for him. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that’s exactly what she was doing. That’s all she ever did; make excuses for Ryan.

  “I’m drunk, too,” Abby said. “But you don't see me climbing into your lap.” She paused, grinning. “Not that I wouldn’t jump on that train.” She laughed, nudging Kass, but in a moment, her face was serious again. “Are things okay with you two?”

  “Fine,” Kass said. She felt the overwhelming urge to add another layer of clothing so Abby wouldn’t be able to somehow spot the bruise on her chest, or the fading bruises on her arms from a drunken escapade with him two weeks ago.

  “Fine?” Abby's eyebrows shot up, and suddenly Kass wished she was anywhere else but there. She cleared her throat, eyes fluttering from Ryan and down to the booze-infused liquid sloshing around in the cup.

  “I think I want to end it.”

  “With Ryan?” Abby gasped, drawing stares from across the room.

  “Shhhhh!” Kass hissed, flushing. “Yes, with Ryan. I think I want to end it.”

  “Why?” Abby asked. “Has he done something? I mean, we all know he’s a chauvinistic pig, but I thought you knew that when you started dating him.”

  “I knew that. I mean, I know that.” Realizing that she’d been clenching her jaw painfully, Kass tried to relax.

  “Are you telling me you’re going to break off the engagement?” Abby hissed, and Kass cringed at the thought of that. With a man like Ryan, you didn’t end the relationship. He did, and only on his terms, nobody else’s.

  “I don’t want to talk about it right now,” she said. “I just want to enjoy my night.”

  “What a dick weed he is,” Abby said.

  “You told me you’d stop saying that.”

  “I haven’t said it to his face in, like, three months. Progress.”

  “Progress,” Kass agreed. More than anything she wanted to tell Abby the truth; that Ryan hit her sometimes when he drank. But she felt scared, scared to hear what her best friend would say, terrified that Abby would judge her, ridicule her; or even worse, pity her.

  “You should be happy, Kass.” Abby dropped her hands in her lap and met her eyes. “With life. With getting into medical school. With Ryan. But you’re not happy, and I know you’re not happy, and I wish you would talk to me.”

  Kass hesitated for a moment, her eyes on Ryan, wanting nothing more than to let it all spill out. No, she wasn’t okay. It wasn’t just tonight she’d considered—for the umpteenth time—to leave Ryan. Break up with him
. Kick him to the curb. No sane person could understand her desire to stay with him, and the worst part was, there was no desire anywhere in the equation. Desire didn’t keep her chained to a man that hit her. Desire didn’t make her stupid or petty or weak for staying with him.

  Fear did. Fear of Ryan. Fear of what he might do to her if she tried to break up with him.

  He’d threatened her before in a drunken state, made it clear that if he couldn’t have her, nobody would. And that very fear kept Kass coming back, accepting the apology, loving him even when she knew she shouldn’t.

  “It isn’t something you should have to think about,” Abby said, sensing her hesitation. “Loving the right person means that even in the bad moments, you know you wouldn’t want it any other way. It means that come hell or high water, you’re safe and loved and respected by that person, even through difficult times. That’s what matters.”

  “I know,” Kass said.

  “Do you though?” Abby reached out and rested her hand on Kass’ arm. She leaned in, lowering her voice. “I don’t want you to end up with someone like your dad, Kass.”

  She looked away from Abby, holding back tears, trying to rein in her desperate emotions. Before Abby could reach out to her, she stood up.

  “I have to go to the bathroom.”

  Abby said something that Kass couldn’t hear, but she didn’t bother turning to ask as she pushed her way through the sweaty crowd of people. Once safely inside the empty bathroom, she locked the door and stood in front of the mirror, letting the tears flow free. Mascara ran down from her lashes, clinging to her cheeks. She yanked a square of toilet paper off the holder and scrubbed, desperately trying to cleanse her skin of the black smudges.

  As she dropped the disheveled tissues into the toilet, the sleeve of her jacket rode up. She caught sight of three things at once: pink, jagged scars on her forearm, fingerprint-sized bruises settling on top of those, and just below that, a shimmering rock newly glistening on her left hand. She pulled her arm back and stared at the ring, ignoring the scars and the bruises as she moved her fingers back and forth to watch the diamond catch rays of light. It was a beautiful ring, one she would never have expected to receive before she'd met Ryan Parker.

  There was another side to Ryan, the side Kass had fallen for. He was a successful man, a man with money and smarts and class. A proud military man who came from a respectable family, Ryan was in his second year of law school. He was kind, the man that showered her with lavish gifts and bouquets of silk flowers for no other reason than because he could. A handsome man, and intelligent, the top of his class.

  Sober, Ryan was every woman’s dream.

  When they’d dated in high school, she’d only seen the beautiful side of him; the sweet, charming, adorable man who could take her in his arms and make the world better, even if just for a moment. It wasn’t until they were two years in before Kass caught her first glimpse of his alcohol-induced rage.

  The first time he’d ever hit her, she’d had a black eye for weeks. She’d left him then, angry and hurt, and he’d begged for her forgiveness. He’d held her and cried and told her it would never happen again. And she believed it. How could you vow to love someone so unconditionally, but continue to hurt them?

  On the other side of the bathroom door, people were laughing. Kass heard Abby shout something, but there was no making it out. She was drunk and probably flirting with some random guy lucky enough to act interested.

  Kass closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. Her heart was pounding in her ears, so distinct it was unsettling. She stepped back to compose herself and bumped into the magazine holder behind her. Some personal hygiene products clattered to the floor, and Kass knelt to pick them up. Near her foot, a spare blade from Abby’s razor had clattered off the shelf and onto the floor.

  Kass stared at it, a knot of emotions tightening in her chest. Without thinking, she reached down and picked up the razor head from the floor. She brushed her hair back with one hand, unable to look at herself in the mirror again. As she held her breath, she put the cold steel of the razor against the back of her hand.

  A sense of excitement buzzed through her; it was a familiar feeling, one of power and control. She pushed harder. The skin under the blade turned white as the circulation smothered. She lifted the blade from her arm. The white faded, allowing the pink of blood to escape back into the area under the skin. Swallowing her hesitation, she rolled up the sleeve on her left arm, ignoring the red, jagged scars already mingled with the fingerprint bruises from Ryan. She pressed the blade to the thin veil of skin and pushed.

  There was pain at first, accompanied by the initial moment of shock. Kass put more weight on the razor’s blade, her breath coming out in raspy gasps as the shiny steel punctured the skin. A drop of blood pooled at the tip, so dark it was crimson. The pain turned into satisfaction, and she slid the blade across the skin in one clean cut. In a single instant, blood pooled to the surface. It was shiny and mesmerizing; taunting her, beckoning her in. She rested the blade one inch down from the first cut and sliced quickly, once more, until there were two blood-soaked lines on the surface of her arms.

  And then another.

  Kass embraced the pain; it was a sharp slap of reality. It was a pain that spoke to her, a pain that assured her she was in control of something, anything, in her life. The pain she inflicted on herself felt different from the pain Ryan inflicted on her. It made her feel in control.

  The blade dropped from Kass’s fingers, clattering to the bathroom floor, now tinted with blood. She slid down the wall, droplets of red smearing on her skin as she rested her head in her hands, body shaking with sobs, thinking again of the blow of Ryan’s fist against her chest. She remembered the agony she felt on her arm the last time he’d grabbed her in a drunken rage; recalled the time he’d hit her in the face, giving her a bloody nose, before breaking down in sobs and apologizing to her. It was a game with him. I hate you, but don’t leave me. It won’t happen again. I promise.

  Trying not to spill blood on Abby’s fluffy bathroom rug, Kass reached for the roll of toilet paper and ripped it from its holder, unraveling a wad and pressing it against the gashes on her arm. Her other hand inched towards the razor blade, and it took all the effort she had in her not to put it against her skin again. The satisfaction had dissipated, and now the pain was pulsating up and down her arm. She had to stay in control of this, too, no matter how ridiculous it seemed.

  On the other side of the door, another laugh echoed down the hallway. Kass realized that she could end it all right now and nobody would even know—maybe not even care. But was there a heaven? Was there a hell? She didn't believe in such things, and it made the thought of death that much more frightening.

  Kass didn’t want to die, not really. She loved her job, her school, the chic little apartment on campus she shared with Abby. She enjoyed life, especially when the veil of black sorrow and nagging unhappiness lifted a little, and she could breathe again. Oh, but the anxiety, the need to control everything, that was the worst, even worse than the sadness. Her drive to do well, to do flawlessly, pulled at her every day. There was no mediocre in her life, there was only faultless perfection, and she knew, probably, it would one day kill her.

  The blood from the incisions on Kass's arms soaked through each wad of toilet paper. By the time the flow finally stopped, six people had pounded on the door, yelling about having to pee. Kass stood and pulled the sleeves on her arms down over the raw, jagged marks before rinsing the razor-blade and tossing it into the trash. Then she straightened her tank top, rolled the sleeves of her jacket down, and pushed her shoulders back.

  Kass found Abby sitting propped up on the edge of the couch with her legs crossed, flaunting the flawless skin, breasts nearly falling out of the top of her tank top. She had switched out her bottle of beer for a fifth of vodka, and there were two men on either side of her, vying for attention. In her free hand, she was holding a joint.

  “There you are,”
she called, giggling. “Do you want me to get you a drink?”

  “No. Can you let Ryan know I'm going for a drive? I have his keys; I need some air.”

  “You’re going for a drive this late at night?” Abby asked. She sat up, slapping one of the groper’s hands away. “Where to? Are you sober?”

  “I don’t know where to, and I'm all right.” Kass shrugged on her jacket and turned back to Abby, feeling concern creeping down her neck for her friend. Abby had always been a badass, and Kass had seen outright the force behind a punch she offered to any assholes who might not leave her alone. If only Kass had those balls, she’d knock Ryan the hell out. “Are you okay here by yourself?” she asked, side-eyeing one guy trying to stick his tongue down Abby’s throat. Before Abby bothered to answer, however, she yanked her face away from the stranger’s tongue, and quick as lightning grabbed his genitals in one hand, squeezing. The kid made a sound that was something between a squeal and a gurgle and sank to his knees in front of her.

  “Can’t you see I’m talking?” Abby snapped. She released her grip on his testicles and turned back to Kass. “All good here. How about you? Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Maybe later.”

  “Sure.”

  Kass gathered her jacket and made her way out into the cold of the night, grateful for the muting of the noise as she shut the door behind her. She took in a lungful of crisp, fresh air and walked through the dark towards the SUV. She needed to get away from it all before she lost her mind.

  The rain pounded down hard outside, shattering like glass against the pavement, soaking her to the bone. Twice, she got caught in the muddy pits of the driveway and almost fell. As she reached for the driver’s side handle, the front door slammed behind her.

  “Where are you going?” Ryan shouted, his voice muffled by the roar of the rain.

  “For a drive.” From where she stood, Kass saw him roll his eyes, exasperated before he turned to open the door back up. He yelled something to his friends inside, then turned around and stepped down from the porch, setting half-empty cup on the railing to stuff his hands into his pockets. He swayed as he approached her.