I can’t tell her.
It’s my problem, not hers.
I suddenly wish that I wasn’t here having this drink, my joy at having a little freedom evaporating. If I had just gone straight home, then I wouldn’t have been subjected to this line of questioning. I also wouldn’t have the lurking thought of what Michael is going to do when I walk through the front door.
“Lucy,” Kim says as she places her hand over mine. I look up at her and a lone tear slides down my cheek. “Does he physically hurt you?” Kim has the decency to talk quietly. I feel caged, as if I am being cornered.
This is my chance.
I can do this. I can tell her.
I can find my voice.
I open my mouth, ready to spill my secrets to her, when I hear him.
“Lucy,” Michael says from the side of our table. I whip my head around and take in his form standing there, looking down at me. I feel any colour that I had left drain from my face.
I can’t speak.
Why is he here?
Did he hear what Kim said?
Did he sense that I was about to break?
Did he come here to make it clear that I can never escape?
“Hey,” I say as I hastily swipe my cheek, wiping away the wet trail left by my tear. “What are you doing here?” I put on a fake, cheerful voice and force a smile onto my face.
“I just came out to pick us up some food and thought I would drop in and see what you fancied,” he says, his eyes intently searching mine.
“Oh.”
“Are you okay?” he asks, his expression conveying sympathy. I just nod at him in reply. I can feel Kim watching us both as she sits quietly on the opposite side. The air around us is so tense that there is no way that it can go unnoticed.
Michael’s jaw tenses and I know that he doesn’t believe me. He’s wary.
“Um, actually, I don’t feel too good,” I say, hoping that this will suffice his over active imagination.
“No?” He places his hand on the back of my head and I have to stop myself from flinching at his touch.
“My stomachs hurting.”
“Maybe you should come home with me?” Michael suggests, and I can see Kim shake her head slightly in my peripheral vision.
“I think that’s a good idea.” I haven’t even drunk any of my wine, but that’s the least of my worries. “I’m sorry, Kim,” I say, needing her to let me walk out of here without her asking questions. “I need to go.”
“Sure,” she replies, shocking the hell out of me with the one-word answer. I can see the disappointment in her eyes though, she doesn’t need to tell me.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” I say as I shuffle off of the seat and into Michael’s outstretched arm. As I step close to his body he curls his arm around me, placing his palm on my shoulder, squeezing slightly. I gulp down the lump that has formed in my throat.
“Okay.”
“Bye, Kim,” Michael says before turning me around and marching me out of Alan’s.
I can feel Kim’s eyes burning a hole in my back as I walk away.
I feel sick, the nausea sweeping through me at a rapid pace.
When Michael gets me outside, he heads in the direction of the apartment.
“Did you not want to get food?” I ask, wanting to prolong the idea of being interrogated a little longer.
“I think it’s best that we don’t.” His tone says it all. He’s pissed, and I’m in trouble. He must have heard Kim to be this annoyed. His grip tightens more on my shoulder, but I don’t squirm. If I squirm, he will only dig his fingers in more. So, I walk along, gritting my teeth and bearing the pain.
It turns out that in my haste to get some distance from Michael, I may have just fractured my friendship with Kim a little bit more.
Chapter Forty-Two
The storm brews
“I’m going to go and have a bath,” I say as Michael and I enter the apartment. I don’t wait for a response, I just want to get away from him and have some time to myself before I have to deal with his mood. He hardly spoke on the way home and I know that he is working himself up. The sooner I am out of sight, the better.
I take my jacket off, hang it by the door, slip my shoes off and head for the bathroom. I start to run the bath, pouring a generous amount of bubble-bath into the water, enjoying the scent of roses as the water starts to bubble.
As I watch the water fill up the tub, I feel Michael stood behind me and I can’t help but let out a sigh.
It turns out that I’m not going to get the peace that I was craving a few seconds ago.
“What was Kim talking to you about at Alan’s?” he asks me, going straight for the kill.
“Nothing much, we didn’t really get to talking before I felt off and then you showed up.”
“So it’s my fault that your drinks were cut short?”
Oh for Pete’s sake, he has to bring it back to him every single time.
“I didn’t say that, Michael.”
“You implied it.”
“No, I didn’t, you just took it the wrong way.”
Lately, he seems to take everything the wrong bloody way.
The water gets to the level that I want it to and I shut the taps off. I start to undress, all the while aware of Michael still stood behind me.
As I put my clothes into the washing basket, I plunge one foot into the water and my skin tingles from the heat. I immerse myself fully in the bubbles and sit back, closing my eyes and trying to ignore Michael’s domineering presence.
It’s hard to act relaxed when every single part of me is screaming to get the hell away from him and get the hell out of here.
My mind is a jumble of thoughts that are constantly warring with themselves.
He loves me.
He doesn’t mean to get so angry.
He hurts me.
He makes me feel weak, helpless.
He makes me want to fight for what we used to have.
We were good together once, weren’t we?
When did it all go so wrong?
We just need to work harder.
I need to behave better.
I need to stop pissing him off.
My thoughts are halted as my head is pushed until I am under the water.
My eyes fly open and immediately sting from the water and the bubbles.
I can make out an arm above me, a hand pushing me down. I struggle against Michael’s overwhelming strength as I fight against trying to take a breath under the water.
Panic grips me.
Pain surges through me.
I lift my hands and bat at his arm as I yearn to taste the air. He doesn’t budge.
I kick my legs, sending water flying everywhere.
I try to scream out, but it just comes out muffled. My heart pounds, my blood pumps.
He’s got to let go.
He has to.
He can’t do this to me.
It’s my fault for angering him.
I should never have gone for a drink with Kim.
This is my fault.
I’m a bad girlfriend.
The thoughts continue to rage, my hands continue to hit out.
I lose the battle and open my mouth, an animalistic sound ripping from my throat. I can’t fight this anymore. I don’t have the strength. I can’t even cry. All I can do is feel the pain in my lungs from holding my breath, and the pain in my heart that my world is crashing down around me just a little bit more.
I stop kicking.
I stop fighting.
I let my hands fall into the water.
I close my eyes.
I’m done.
Chapter Forty-Three
A wake up call
As my head is pulled out of the water, I splutter and gasp for breath. My arms grip onto the side of the bath and I continue to cough. My eyes fly open, stinging from the air. My vision is blurry, and I feel light-headed.
I need to get out of this bath tub.
I
try to pull my body up, but I feel weak. The shock of what just happened has made my blood run cold.
When I eventually get my eyes to focus, I look to Michael who is towering over me, a grim expression on his face.
Minutes pass and I am still trying to regulate my breathing. My throat feels sore and is screaming at me to get a drink, but I daren’t move.
Michael may have hit me before, but this is a whole new playing field.
“Christ,” Michael says as he kneels down beside the bath, making me jump backwards, sending more water sloshing everywhere.
I don’t want him near me.
I don’t want him to touch me.
“Lucy, I’m so fucking sorry,” he says as he places his hands on the side of the bath tub.
I sit, trembling. The water no longer feels warm and inviting. My teeth chatter as I continue to push myself back.
“I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry.” His eyes may look genuine, but I’ve seen that look before. It’s the look he gives me when he knows that he has gone too far. It’s the look he does when he knows that he has got to up his game in the sorry stakes.
“Get away from me,” I whisper, my throat hoarse.
“No,” he replies with a shake of his head. “I’m not leaving you.”
“I don’t want you near me.”
“But, I love you, and I didn’t mean to. I just get so mad sometimes that I do stupid shit.” His excuse is just that, an excuse. It’s not a reason for why he treats me like this. It’s not good enough.
“Please go away,” I whisper, my eyes wide, my heart beating a million miles a minute.
I don’t want to talk, I don’t want to listen. When I listen to him, he works his way into my mind. He plays games with me, and I can’t let him continue to do that. I can’t let him think that I am okay with this.
He reaches across the bath tub and my hands fly up in front of my face, and I let out a cry of alarm. He freezes, his hand just in front of me before he withdraws it and hangs his head in shame.
Quietly, he gets up and leaves the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
My heart continues to hammer in my chest as I expect him to come crashing back in here. A few minutes pass before I am able to get myself out of the bath tub. The first thing I do is lock the bathroom door. I grab a towel and wrap it around my body before sitting on the bathroom floor. I bring my knees up, wrapping my arms around them. Tears spill down my cheeks. I’m angry, sad, disappointed, pained, frightened. My faith in relationships has taken a serious knock since I’ve been with Michael.
I have spent months turning a blind eye or giving into him and believing his excuse for why he behaves in the way that he does. I have given him the benefit of the doubt because I thought that he loved me, but I can see now that he doesn’t love me in the way that he should.
His love for me is terrifying.
He wants me all to himself, and he wants me to obey him.
He wants to control me, and I have let him do just that for most of our relationship without realising it.
This moment has given me a wake-up call.
This moment has flipped a switch inside of me.
I will forever remember this moment as the moment that I decided to leave Michael.
I need to get out.
I need to save myself.
Chapter Forty-Four
Walking away
After getting dried, putting some clothes on and towel-drying my hair, I walk into the kitchen with a new determination in me.
I don’t want to be scared anymore.
I want to be the person that I once was.
As I look to the lounge, I see Michael sat on the sofa, his head hanging in shame.
Good. He deserves to feel ashamed of what he has done to me.
There is a small part of me that does feel sorry for him, but I slap the feeling away as quick as it comes. I don’t want any guilt to consume me. If I even let a slither of it in, then I am going to be a goner.
“I want my phone,” I say, my voice rock solid for the first time in months.
The tension in the flat radiates around me, but I won’t lose focus. I need to get out of here. Michael keeps his head hanging when he answers me, so I have to strain my ears to hear his muffled answer.
“It’s on top of the wardrobe.”
With purpose, I turn and go back to the bedroom, standing on the bed so that I can peer on the top of the wardrobe. There, at the front, sits my phone and charger. I grab both things and turn my phone on once I have safely stepped down from the bed and back onto the floor. I expect my phone to be dead, but as the screen comes to life I can see that it is nearly at full battery. I suspect that Michael has been keeping watch on who messages me and what they say.
My phone vibrates a few seconds later and I see that I have a few missed calls from Kim, all from this evening, after I left Alan’s. I also have missed calls and texts from Cal.
My heart hammers as I open the texts from him and read through them.
Lucy, I didn’t mean to upset you earlier.
I hope that you can forgive me and we
can repair our friendship. Please give me
a call so we can talk. Cal x
***
Luce, I don’t want to lose you. You have
been my best friend since we were younger.
I love you and I just want to make this
right. Don’t let my behaviour ruin what we
have. Cal x
***
My heart breaks as I picture Cal writing those messages. I know that my reaction to him earlier would have crushed him. It crushed me, but he has no idea that I was just trying to protect myself. He has no clue about what I have been going through, no-one does.
I wasn’t ready to admit it before, but I am now. I’m ready to acknowledge that I need to get out of this abusive relationship with Michael before it’s too late.
I put my phone in my pocket and go back to the kitchen, placing my charger in my handbag. Michael still hasn’t looked up and I would rather that he didn’t. He might be hurting, but so am I and I need to think of myself for a change.
“I’m going to stay somewhere else,” I say, my tone firm and unwavering. Still no response. “I will come and pick up my things in a few days’ time.”
I can hear him sniffle, but I force myself to turn away and walk out of here. I need to piece my life back together, and I can’t do that with him near me.
As I open the front door and walk out, I let out a cry of relief.
He let me walk away.
I showed him that I don’t need him.
I can allow myself to breathe again.
Although I am feeling a weight being lifted from my shoulders, my heart still drops lower in my chest. That’s how much he has messed with my emotions.
Michael is done fighting for me, and I’m done fighting for him.
I need to be strong and I need to realise that this is the beginning of the end.
Chapter Forty-Five
Blurred reality
I knock on the door in front of me and wait.
Seconds tick by as I stand there, with just my handbag. I didn’t pack any of my stuff, I just wanted to get the hell away from Michael. I hear laughter from behind the front door and I realise that I am probably intruding. I turn away and walk down the path, opening the front gate and closing it behind me. I look left and right, the street completely deserted as I contemplate my next move.
I have no idea where to go. Kim’s would be the obvious choice, but I can’t deal with all of her questions right now. She would bombard me, and all I really need is somewhere to lay my head and process what has happened.
As I am about to head right and walk into town, I feel a hand on my shoulder. The scream that comes out of my mouth is piercing. I drop my handbag and it lands with a thud on the floor. I crouch down, cowering. My whole body shakes as my brain tells me that Michael has followed me. He’s come here to finish what he starte
d back at the apartment.
My hands are over my ears, my eyes are closed, and I start to rock on my heels, backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards.
I mentally prepare myself for the fist that is surely coming my way.
“Lucy.”
“No,” I whisper as tears stream from my eyes. I thought that he had let me walk away. I thought that he had realised that he had gone too far.
“Lucy.” The deep voice is insistent, urgent.
A hand is placed on my back, lightly and far too gently for it to be Michael.
I stop rocking and open my eyes.
“Hey, it’s okay.”
It takes me a few more seconds to register that it is Cal speaking to me, not Michael. I look at his face as he crouches beside me and I can see the worry in his eyes. “It’s just me, Luce.”
“Cal,” I say on a breath.
“Yeah, babe, it’s me.”
“Cal,” I repeat as I suddenly move and wrap my arms around his neck. He doesn’t pry me off of him as my tears dampen his shirt. He manoeuvres us so that we are both standing before wrapping his arms around me and holding me close to him.
His closeness is such a comfort after months of feeling on edge. I have missed him so much. Our bond is special, and I worry that Michael has broken what we once had.
Cal doesn’t rush me as my body racks with sobs. I guess I am crying for a multitude of reasons. Hurt, anger, stupidity, disappointment, relief, the list could go on.
“I’ve got you,” Cal says as he loosens his grip and picks me up so that I am cradled in his arms. He doesn’t turn me away, but instead picks my handbag up off of the floor and carries me up the path and into his house. I feel him kick the door shut behind us.
“Everything okay, Cal?” a deep voice booms to my left. My fingers curl into Cal’s shirt at the sound of another man’s voice.
“I’ll just be upstairs in my room,” Cal replies, holding me just a little bit tighter.
“Okay, dude.”
I can’t look up to acknowledge the man that Cal has been talking to. If he thinks that I am rude then so be it. I don’t want to speak to another man right now, I just want to be with Cal. He’s my rock, my saviour, my world.
Losing Control (The Control Duet Book 1) Page 12