by Kira Berger
“And the worst is that I believed what Niall said. I started to believe what he told me. That I’m worthless. That no one else would ever want me, that I was lucky to have him.”
When my hands are grabbed in a firm grip, I flinch. “You are not worthless, or any of that other shit!” he growls.
“I know that now,” I try to reassure him. “Oliver, and my family, reminded me of my worth. It took them a bit, but I know I’m not all he said I was.”
“Still, I’m gonna kill this motherfucker.” And I can tell he means it, too.
The rest is only going to make it worse. I don’t want to tell him. Like he can sense my hesitation, he urges me on in a softer voice, not letting go of my hands. “Go on, babe. I’m here.”
I sigh, trying not to lose my composure before I can get this out. “It got even worse from there. He’d be his normal charming self whenever people were around. No one ever suspected anything—not that anyone came around enough to notice. The only family he has left is his twin sister, Kendra. They work together and are weirdly close. He would always drop whatever he was doing to race to her side if she asked for it. She had this weird influence over him where she could make him do whatever she wanted. I could never figure out why though. I know she hated me for whatever reason. And she knew what was going on, I heard them on the phone once. She was encouraging him to keep me in line however necessary. She seemed to be getting off on hearing about it. If you think he was bad, she was batshit crazy. He never told me what happened to his parents, except that they died.
“We never saw my own family. He was never overtly threatening toward them, but he’d drop hints how I’d regret it if I ever told them what was happening. By that point, I knew the person he was so I believed him. And I wasn’t going do something to put them in danger.
“I think eventually I grew accustomed to all of it, you know—the unpredictability. I could never predict when he’d lash out or why. Sometimes it was the way I poured milk into his tea, the next it was the way I dressed or talked. He hated that I sounded more American than British. He kept calling me an uneducated hick. I never told him I’m half American. I never realized it before, but I think I was giving myself an out should I find the courage to use it. I thought it would keep him from finding me.” I shake my head at my silly notion that he wouldn’t be able to find me. “It was probably two years into the relationship when every excuse I told myself up to then, every reason and every lie vanished, and who I was broke.”
I take a deep breath, trying to stop my body from shaking. “He went out for drinks after work one night, coming home bloody wasted. I expected him to just go to bed and pass out; it’s when I usually snuck off to the couch to sleep. But not that night…”
I tug my hands out of his grasp. I can’t have him touch me for this. I need distance. I stand and walk to the window, watching the breeze move the tops of the trees outside. It’s peaceful, such a contrast to the storm raging inside of me.
“Fuck, how I wish he passed out that night. But… instead he wanted to have sex. I wasn’t in the mood though, I never was. I didn’t feel well on top of everything, and I told him so. Not that he gave a shit. He just took what I wasn’t willing to give.”
“Fucking hell.” Duncan’s soft voice sounds like he’s holding back tears, but since I’m still not looking at him I can’t be sure.
“I never knew until then that your spouse, your partner, can rape you. It was always something a stranger would do to a woman, not someone who sleeps next to you. I lay there that night, crying, hating myself, but knowing I was too fucking weak to leave. I had no way out, he controlled everything—our finances, who I talked to on the phone, you name it. He never even let me go to the grocery store by myself. And I knew, deep down, he’d kill me and everyone I loved if I left. He told me enough that I wouldn’t survive without him. That if I left the ones I love would pay the price. I believed him, so I stayed. The next morning, we both pretended it never happened. It was easier that way. I came home to a bouquet of white roses. It wasn’t the last time either. For the next year and a half, I’d come home to white roses every morning after he raped me or broke a bone. It took me a while until I acknowledged to myself what was happening, but by then I didn’t know how to get out. I was alone. I didn’t know where or who to turn to. He had me convinced it was my fault, that I somehow deserved it.”
“Please, tell me you don’t believe that anymore?”
“I don’t, no. My family helped me see how he manipulated me, made me think things that weren’t true. But there are some days where I wonder if I could have done something to make him change.” I shrug, not wanting to lie. “You know what’s the worst? I never begged him to stop after that first time. Not once. How fucked-up is that? Instead I kept silent, it’s all I knew how to do.”
A second later, two strong arms wrap around me from behind. I didn’t realize how much I needed the warmth infusing my body, to be in his arms, even just for one last time. I can’t hold the tears at bay anymore, and I let them run down my face freely.
“It’s not fucked-up. You didn’t deserve it. You refused to give in, refused to break, refused to give away the last of your power by begging.”
“I know, but I wish I could stop these thoughts from creeping in,” I say quietly. And I do. I wish I could believe when he says he’ll never leave, that I deserve someone like him. I wish I could grab hold of him with both hands and never let go. But I don’t think I’m brave enough, strong enough, to do so.
“One day you will,” is his vow. One I wish he’d be able to honor.
He doesn’t prod me to continue, instead gives me his strength to continue. Now that I started, I need to get the pain out before it consumes me whole.
“By now I had no one but him. I went to work—even though he tried to get me to quit but living in London on one salary is just about impossible—came home, cooked dinner, and waited for him like a fucking dog. The slaps and hits were a daily occurrence by then. I was just grateful he usually kept it off my face so people wouldn’t see.
“I hadn’t been home to see my family in over three years, not for birthdays, Christmas, anything like that. I was barely able to talk to them on the phone. I didn’t want to face them after everything that happened or have them see the bruises. It was bad enough I put up with it, no need to drag my family into it.”
I have to clear my throat; the next part is the hardest—the one I can’t forgive myself for. I lean my head against the window, his arms still around me, comforting me. I need all the comfort I can get when the images start flashing in front of my eyes.
***
It was unusually rainy and cold even for London when things took a turn. I was standing in my kitchen, a place I hated with a passion. He requested I make shepherd’s pie for dinner—a dish I used to love and now despised. Just like everything else about this place. I stood there, waiting for the oven to ding and pronounce dinner is ready.
He wasn’t home yet, and I was fantasizing what it would be like if he never did again. I’d be free. The fantasy made me smile for a second, unfortunately also reminding me it will never come true.
“What has you smiling, bitch?” The voice startled me from behind, and I tensed. I knew what that voice meant; he’s in a bad mood, which never bodes well for me. I decided to lie, even though that never helps. But telling him I was fantasizing about someone or something killing him would be worse.
“Just happy you’re home, babe.”
“Whatever. What’s for dinner?” he snarled.
“Shepherd’s pie,” I said, trying to diffuse the situation.
“It better be good. Not like the shit you normally make.” How sad is it that I didn’t even notice the barbs anymore and just took them? It’d become my new normal. I was used to the degrading, the hitting, the violations. I’d fallen so far into this dark abyss I didn’t even recognize myself anymore. This empty shell of the person I used to be. I missed her. The vivacious, outgoing, gras
ping-life-by-the-balls girl who was up for anything.
“I made it just like you like it,” I answered. Anything else in my defense would just earn me a punch to the stomach.
“You better.”
And with this I knew, no matter what it tasted like, he wouldn’t like it. Something happened and he was looking to take it out on me. I resigned myself to it. It was nothing new, nothing I wasn’t used to. And not five minutes later it happened. I was standing there, not paying attention, when he suddenly grabbed my arm, an arm he bruised just the night before. I couldn’t contain the cry of pain leaving me. Cowering in front of him, I prayed for it to be over quick. I prayed for him to tire out fast and pass out.
His fist was raised to strike, but unlike every other day during the last two and a half years, something unexpected happens. With a bang, our front door suddenly burst open and banged off the walls. Oliver, my beautiful, older brother, stepped into our apartment with a look of fury etched on his face. He broke the lock on the door, and for the first time since we moved into this place, I was happy for the flimsy craftsmanship—at least for a second. Then I froze in fear and devastation. Fear of what Oliver was going to do, and devastation because I could tell by his face he knew exactly what was going on in front of him.
Whatever suspicions he had that made him travel to see me, the scene he just walked in on pretty much confirmed them—the hold Niall had on my arm, the pain etched on my features, the raised fist, and when I looked down I noticed the bruises on my wrist were visible due to my sleeves being shoved up my arms from making dinner.
“What the fuck?” Oliver’s voice is deadly quiet. My brother wasn’t someone who lost his temper quickly, but when he did it was scary.
“Who the fuck are you? You broke our bloody door. You can’t just barge in here,” Niall yelled at him. He never liked to be interrupted, it only ever made it worse for me.
Meanwhile, all I could manage was a weak, “Oliver.” I was shocked he was here. I hadn’t talked to him in a few months, hadn’t heard his voice. He must have grown impatient with me ignoring his calls and took matter into his own hands.
Calm like a soldier before going into battle, Oliver took a step toward me. “Let her go.” His voice was measured, but I could hear the underlying current of his anger.
“Go fuck yourself.”
With one swift movement, the grip on my arm was gone and Oliver was in front of me facing Niall. “I’m going to tell you this once, and only once. Get the fuck out of here and do not come back. You step one foot back through the door while I’m here, and I’ll give you the beating of a lifetime,” he said in a tone that had chills running down my back. I never heard him speak like this.
Niall hesitated for a second, but wisely decided to leave when Oliver took a threating step toward him. Oliver was built like a boxer, lean and muscular, but you could tell the power behind the frame was immense, and intimidating. Niall was built like a runner, tall and lean without much power behind the frame. But he wasn’t leaving without getting the last word in though. “You’ll pay for this. Mark my words, Alex, you all will pay for this.”
I should have taken him more seriously. I should have done something to stop what was put in motion that day, but I didn’t.
Once the door closed behind Niall, Oliver turned toward me. I pulled my sleeves down my arms and moved away from him. “You shouldn’t have done this,” I murmured.
“Alex,” he pleaded, but didn’t come near me. “We were worried. Why didn’t you call us? We’re not stupid, we knew something was up when you stopped calling regularly.”
“It’s not what it looked like,” I tried. “He wasn’t even hurting me.” And he wasn’t, yet. Another five minutes and it would have been a different story.
“Don’t fucking lie to me. I know what I saw. I’m not a fucking idiot.” He moved behind me and lay a hand on my shoulder, causing me to flinch.
“I–I–I didn’t know how to tell you,” I finally admitted, and a sob escaped me. The tears had long since started flowing down my face. All the pain and heartache I held inside the last few years broke loose in that moment. The floodgates opened, and I couldn’t hold anything back. I told him every detail of what happened over the last few years. The beatings, the assault, the abuse. And with each word, I could tell he became more and more infuriated until he had to hold himself back from going on a rampage with only one victim.
Once I was finished, he turned me in his arms and hugged me to him for what felt like hours. And it was just what I needed. I realized I hadn’t been hugged in almost three years. There was no affection between Niall and me, and I had no one left in my life who’d hug me. Such a simple gesture, but it made me realize just how starved I was for it.
“You’re coming home with me. Now. Go pack your stuff, all of it. I’ll book us a flight,” he commanded, taking charge, and I obeyed. I was too tired to fight anymore. I gave up too long ago to be able to leave by myself, but having the decision taken out of my hand made it easy. Leaning on someone else made it easy. It also made me even weaker, but in this instance, I didn’t have it in me to care anymore.
I didn’t have much to pack—my clothes, passport, important documents, laptop. That’s about it. I was leaving behind anything which reminded me of my time here. I came to the UK to live my dream, and all I found was a nightmare. It was time to go home and try to heal surrounded by my family and my mountains.
“I’m ready,” I said, standing amidst my luggage in the place I called home for years. A place which brought me nothing but agony.
“The first flight I could find was for tomorrow. But I booked us into a hotel for tonight, a cab is on its way.” He walked toward me to cup my cheek. “You didn’t deserve any of this,” he said with conviction. “No matter what the fucker tried to tell you, you didn’t deserve this, okay? Now, let’s get out of here.” And with that, my brother took me home, cared for me, and taught me how to be strong. How to stand up for myself.
***
I just wish I remembered.
“For the next four months my brother, his fiancée, and my parents did everything they could to drag me out of the darkness. And it worked, they managed to resurrect parts of the old me. I started to feel safe again. My brother took me to self-defense classes and taught me how to believe in myself again. He showed me that Niall’s actions weren’t my fault. He showed me how to be happy again. But the one thing that probably helped the most was my brother taking me on hikes in the Alps. The French Alps are beautiful, and it was the one place I could find peace,” I tell Duncan, a small smile curling my mouth despite the storm of agony swirling inside of me.
“I quit my job in London the day after I left. I gave them the vague reason of a family emergency which needed me to be home. Which wasn’t a lie, technically, I did need to be home, just for myself more so than for my family.
“I slowly started to enjoy life. I still had bad days where I wouldn’t leave the house, but I was finally finding me again when Niall crashed into my life once more. It started with phone calls and morphed into letters threatening me and my family, and white fucking roses. While I didn’t press charges when we left London, I did press charges then, but they couldn’t do much more than issue a restraining order.”
I had three months of peace before my life was turned upside down again. All my newfound confidence threatened.
“I tried so hard to not let what happened affect the way I lived my life again. But I couldn’t keep the fear from creeping in. He was still out there and nothing was going to stop him from coming after me. I tried to tell myself I might as well live my life, you know? And some days it actually worked.” I fill my lungs with much-needed oxygen. Gathering my thoughts, I tell him all of it, just how weak I actually am. What I’ve done.
“I knew he would never give up though, his letters and emails said as much. But I thought he would just come after me. Sure, he’d make comments about my family, and how they corrupted me against him, how th
ey needed to pay too. But I thought ultimately, he’d only kill me, and I was ready for that. To be honest, by that point, I was resigned to not make it out of this mess alive if it just kept my family safe.” At my admission, something I have never told a soul, he pulls me against him more firmly, like he’s afraid I’ll vanish into thin air.
“Please, don’t talk like that. I can’t bear to hear you say this. I’m sure your family loved you no matter what and didn’t blame you.” His voice is gentle and soothing, like he’s talking to a spooked animal. “I’m sorry you had to go through this, gorgeous. So sorry. And if I could, I would bring your family back for you.”
“I know,” I say. And I do know he would bring them back if he could. Just like I would give my life for theirs in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, that kind of shit only happens in fairy tales. And my life is the furthest thing from one of those as you can get.
“Tell me the rest,” he encourages, knowing instinctively I’m not done yet.
***
While I have been slowly coming back into myself and found the courage to leave the house, I still had days I couldn’t leave the security of the apartment. The day my carefully constructed world came crashing down was one of those days.
It was my brother’s fiancée’s birthday. They begged me to join them for dinner, saying I haven’t been around in over two years to celebrate with them. But I refused, claiming I didn’t feel well instead of telling them I was terrified to leave the house.
That I had a bad feeling.
Niall’s emails and gifts kept coming more frequently, showing his impatience. I stopped telling my family every time they arrived, it just made them sad or angry. I thought there was nothing they could have done anyway. I’m not sure if it was fate or some cruel twist of Karma, but for the rest of my life I’ll wonder if things would have turned out differently if I would have told them just how frequent Niall’s packages had become. Maybe they would have stayed home that night, too.