by J. L. Perry
“When I was a kid, I was in the exact place you are now. My mother and I fled our home in the middle of the night with only a few measly belongings. It was hard at first, you know, leaving everything behind, but in time it was soon forgotten as we settled in here and made a new life for ourselves.”
Her face turns a ghostly shade of white as she listens to every word. “Why did you flee?” Her words come out in barely a whisper.
I hate talking about my past, but opening up to her may help her understand me better. I want her to trust me, but more than anything, I want her to stay.
“Make your call, and then we can talk.”
I’m stalling, I know; I hate reliving this shit.
“Maria,” I say the moment she answers the phone. “It’s Morgan.”
“Oh, Morgan, thank god. I’ve been so worried about you.”
“Worried, why?” I ask, puzzled.
“That boyfriend of yours came in here yesterday. He was looking for you.”
“Wade?” My heart drops into the pit of my stomach, and my gaze moves to Ryan. He’s resting his chin in his hands, watching me intently, so I turn my back and take a few steps in the other direction.
“Yes, him.” She knows nothing of my situation, but the few times she’s met him when he’s come into work pestering me for money was enough for her to know she didn’t like him. She’s probably the only one who didn’t think he was wonderful. “He got so angry when I told him you weren’t here and accused me of hiding you. Morgan, that guy is crazy. You know I’ve never been one to interfere, but you can do so much better than that.”
“I know,” I say, letting out a deflated sigh. “I’ve left him. That’s why I didn’t come into work yesterday. I had to leave town.”
“Oh, honey,” she says, sympathy lining her words. “When you didn’t arrive this morning, I was frantic. I tried to call your phone, but it went straight to voicemail. I thought something must’ve happened to you.”
Tears fill my eyes. I’m grateful my back is still to Ryan. I don’t want him to see my weakness. “I’m okay,” I whisper. “My phone is flat. I won’t be coming back to work. I’m sorry to let you down like this, but I think it’s best if I start over somewhere far away from there.”
“Honey, I’m sorry to lose you and I’ll miss you more than you know—you’re one of my best workers—but you need to do what’s best for you. Does he know where you are?”
“No.”
“Good, keep it that way.”
“I have no intention of telling him.”
“If he comes back in, I won’t tell him I’ve heard from you.”
“I appreciate that. Thank you.”
“I have a customer waiting. I have to go.”
“Okay.”
“Be safe, Morgan.”
“I will. Thanks.”
After ending the call, I stay with my back to Ryan, giving myself a few moments to pull myself together. This is really happening. I have no home, no job, and a poor excuse for a bank account. My future looks bleak.
I jump when a hand rests on my shoulder.
“Are you okay?” Ryan asks, and I can hear the concern in his voice.
“I will be,” is my only reply, as I reach up to wipe the tears from my face.
I pass him back his phone, but still can’t bring myself to look at him. “Come,” he says. “Let’s go get that coffee.”
We walk in silence all the way to the café, and I’m thankful for that. I’m in no mood for any of his questions, although there’s a part of me that wants to tell him everything. My dire situation is starting to sink in, and as desperate as this sounds, he’s the closest thing I have to a friend right now.
“Ryan,” a middle aged lady says as we enter the café.
“Hi, Sally.” He seems to know everyone in this town by name, and has greeted everyone we’ve passed with sincerity.
Sally puts the cloth she was just using to wipe down one of the tables in the front pocket of her apron before focusing her attention on me. After giving me a pleasant smile, her gaze moves back to Ryan. “Table for two?”
“No, actually, we just want two coffees to go. We’re gonna head down to the river.” Her smile grows as her eyes move from him back to me. I hope she doesn’t think this is a date.
“Nice,” she says. “It’s a beautiful day for it.”
“It is,” he replies.
“Are you new in town? I haven’t seen you around here before.”
“Sorry,” Ryan says, answering for me. “This is Morgan.” I’m glad he doesn’t elaborate further.
“Hi, Morgan.” She extends her hand to me. “It’s lovely to meet you.”
“You too,” I reply. We are interrupted when the phone behind the counter rings.
“Just give me a second, and I’ll be right with you.”
Sally seems flustered when she comes back to us, and Ryan obviously notices that also. “Everything all right, Sally?” he asks.
“Amber quit yesterday—her husband said she was working too many hours—and that,” she says, pointing to the phone on the wall, “was Christy. She just called in sick. I can manage this place on my own in the mornings, but come lunchtime I don’t know how I’m going to cope.”
“There’s nobody else you can call in?”
“Nope.” I can hear the desperation in her voice and I feel bad. “You don’t know anyone, do you?”
Before Ryan gets a chance to answer, I cut in. “I can help you. I’ve worked in the hospitality industry since I was seventeen.” It’s only for a few hours, and I have nothing better to do.
“OMG!” Sally practically squeals. “Would you? That would be amazing.” I turn to Ryan, and the huge smile I see on his face tells me he’s pleased by my offer to help. “Can you start at eleven? That will give us time to prepare for the rush hour. I’ll probably only need you until two.”
“Sounds great.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” she says. She has no idea how right she is; I’m pretty sure I saved my own life yesterday.
“Look at you,” Ryan says, bumping shoulders with me as we leave the café with our coffees in hand.
“What?”
“Offering to help … That was really nice of you.”
“It’s not like I have anything better to do,” I reply sarcastically.
“I’m offended by that comment,” he says, placing his hand on his chest in mock hurt. “You were supposed to be spending your time hanging out with me.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Being escorted around town by the local cop doesn’t really qualify as hanging out you know.”
He stops to look at me intently, and I immediately become self-conscious. Do I have a milk moustache? I bring my hand up, wiping my mouth just as he speaks.
“You have a beautiful smile. You should smile more often.”
I feel my face flush from his words. It pleases me that he thinks my smile is beautiful. I barely even know this guy, but the more I get to know him, the more I’m finding it’s impossible not to like him.
“I haven’t had much to smile about lately,” I admit.
“Give it time,” is all he says.
“Ryan, when you said you’ve been exactly where I am, what did you mean?”
He shrugs his shoulders and starts walking again. It takes some time before he finally answers. “My stepfather was abusive towards my mother. It went on for years. I guess she was too scared to leave him. It was awful seeing her being treated so badly. She was a good mum and wife. But I was just a kid, and I was scared of him too, but that doesn’t seem to lessen the guilt I still carry around for not protecting her.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” I say with sincerity. The interest he’s shown in me is starting to make sense.
“The night we left, he was chasing my mother around the kitchen table with a metal candlestick in his hand, and he kept lunging at her. He was getting more and more frustrated because she kept evading him. I remember him saying somet
hing like, ‘When I get my hands on you, I’m going to cave your fucking skull in.’”
I gasp when he says that. It would’ve been terrifying for them both.
“I was standing in the doorway watching, paralysed with fear, but something inside me knew that if I didn’t do something, this time he was really going to kill her.”
“You poor thing,” I say, instinctively reaching for his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. He looks down at our joined hands, and I see the corners of his mouth curve up, so I immediately let go. I feel compelled to comfort him, but I don’t want him getting the wrong idea.
I see a flash of disappointment cross his face before he shoves his free hand into the pocket of his jeans. He takes another sip of his coffee then continues speaking. “The next time he passed me, I stuck my foot out, tripping him over.”
“That was a very brave move for a small child to make.” It makes me feel even weaker for not having had the courage to stand up to my own abuser.
“I’ll never forget the look on his face when he stood up and faced me. Anger was pouring off him, and in his eyes was a look of pure evil.”
“I know that look well,” I admit.
This time, he removes his hand from his pocket and wraps it in mine. I don’t protest. It seems like the difficulties of our past are bonding us in some strange way, based on a mutual understanding of what the other has gone through.
“I’d never been so frightened,” he admits. “I’d seen a lot in my young life, but that was the first time his anger had been directed at me.”
I feel tears sting my eyes as I hang on his every word. I want to grab that small boy and wrap him in my arms.
He stops walking and turns to face me. “He backhanded me so hard, I went flying across the room.” He bows his head, and a lone tear leaks from my eye.
“Oh, Ryan.”
“I was so scared, I wet myself.”
Without even thinking, I step forward and wrap him in my arms, holding him tight.
“I’m sorry he did that to you,” I whisper.
“And I’m sorry somebody hurt you as well.”
Spending the morning with Morgan was more enjoyable than I thought it would be, and when it came time to walk her back to the café, I was surprised by the level of disappointment I felt. I didn’t want my time with her to end.
I can honestly say I felt lighter as I headed back home to change into my uniform and get ready for work. I’ve never opened up to anyone like I did with her today, not even to the counsellor my mum made me see when I was a kid. The words just came so easily, maybe because she’s the first person I’ve ever met who can understand what my old life was like. I think unless you’ve lived it, you don’t truly get it. During my time on the force, I’ve often heard people say, ‘They’re stupid for staying. Why don’t they just leave?’ I know first-hand that it’s not always that easy.
“Macca,” I say with a flick of my head when I enter the station.
“Ryan, my boy.” I love it when he calls me that. He’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a father. “That phone you left on your desk has been blowing up for the past hour. Whose is it?”
Shit—Morgan’s phone. I forgot it was still on charge. “Just a friend’s,” I say. Although Macca and I are close, I’m not ready to divulge my situation with Morgan just yet. I know he’ll be more than ready to help if and when I need his advice.
He gives me a quick rundown on what transpired during his shift, and like usual, it’s pretty uneventful. The moment he leaves, I head straight for my desk. I pick up Morgan’s phone and press the home button, illuminating the screen.
I’m not surprised to see there’s over seventy missed calls from Wade and three times as many text messages. The police officer in me wants to read every single one of those messages, but of course I don’t. Morgan trusts me, and I have no intention of doing anything to diminish that by prying.
There’s also a missed call from Maria. I presume that’s her boss, because I heard her use that name this morning when she called her work. And there’s two missed calls from Dad. From what she told me last night about her family, I surmised they aren’t that close. I wonder if he knows how badly his daughter has been treated.
Just as I go to place the phone back down on my desk, it rings, startling me. Dad flashes on the screen. At first I have no intention of answering it, but if he does know what is going on, he’s probably worried about his daughter. I know if it were my mum, she’d be beside herself.
Without analysing it too much, I answer the call. I hope Morgan doesn’t get upset with me for doing it.
“Hello,” I say.
“Oh,” the voice on the other end replies. “I’m looking for my daughter, Morgan. Can I please speak with her?” Although his words are polite, the tone of his voice is the polar opposite.
“She’s not here at the moment. Can I take a message?”
“Are you the gentleman who appears with her in that video she just posted on Facebook? Although, from what my wife just told me about its contents, I’d say you were anything but a gentleman.”
My suspicions are immediately piqued. Morgan’s phone has been here all morning, so there’s no way she could’ve posted anything. By her father’s reaction just now, what was posted isn’t pleasant. “Your daughter has been with me all morning. I know for a fact she didn’t have the time or means to post anything.”
“Of course you’d come to her defence, you, you pervert. Tell her from me to delete that filth immediately. My family and friends do not need or wish to see her sex romps all over social media. I’m beyond ashamed of this person she has become. My wife is right about her—she is nothing but trouble.”
“You know what’s shameful?” I snap in reply. “You judging your daughter when you don’t have the facts.” I end the call without waiting for a response. I’m infuriated by what he just said. My gut tells me Wade is responsible for this.
I press the home key again and use my finger to swipe through the pages, hoping to find a Facebook app. She should have a password lock set on her phone, but in this instance I’m grateful she doesn’t. I know I said I wouldn’t pry, but if something that jeopardises her reputation or character has been posted on social media without her knowledge, I need to know about it.
Bingo! She hasn’t logged out of her account, so I have no problem accessing it. My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach when I see the home video that’s been posted on her page. The quality of it is amateurish at best, but it’s definitely her. She’s on her hands and knees whilst being pounded from behind. Her long blonde hair is tightly wrapped around the guy’s wrist, and the bright light shining through the bedroom window illuminates her. Her eyes are clenched shut, and the wincing I see on her face contorts her angelic facial features.
A whimper falls from her lips as he relentlessly picks up the pace, but I can tell it’s a cry of pain rather than pleasure. This appears to be more like rape than two people making love. I hate to think what she has endured at the hands of this monster. “Your tight pussy feels so good,” he grunts, and the anger that rages in my body has me wanting to throw the phone across the room.
The post is titled, ‘A little entertainment for you guys.’ I pause the video and take a screenshot for evidence before deleting it from her page. I’ve seen enough. It’s already had nine views, which is nine too many.
Dropping the phone onto the desk, I run my fingers through my hair. I want to hurt him just like he’s hurt her, but I’ve got to be smart about how I handle this.
A few seconds later her phone dings, alerting me of another message. It’s from that fucker, so this time I don’t hesitate to open it.
You want to keep ignoring me, cunt? Well, guess what—you know I always get the last laugh. Saving all your passwords on your computer wasn’t your smartest move, but I wouldn’t expect much more from a useless, dumb bitch like yourself. You made it super easy for me to access your Facebook account so I could post one of our s
ex tapes. What sex tape, you ask? Just one of many I recorded on my phone without your knowledge. Now the entire world gets to see what a pathetic, filthy slut you are. You should’ve known better than to fuck with me, Morgan. This is just the beginning, and I won’t stop until I destroy you.
My hand grips the phone with such force, I’m surprised it doesn’t disintegrate. Fuck me, I want to kill him. I’m going to make this lowlife pay for what he’s done.
“I can’t thank you enough for your help today,” Sally says, wrapping me in her arms. “You handled the rush hour like a pro.”
“The restaurant I used to work at was always busy. It was in the heart of the Gold Coast. It made your rush hour seem like a walk in the park for me,” I reply with a laugh.
Sally opens the register, pulls out two fifty dollar notes, and passes them to me. “Here, for all your help today.” I want to tell her not to worry about it, because I actually enjoyed helping, but I’m going to need every cent I can get.
“Thank you,” I say, folding the cash before shoving it into my pocket.
“You wouldn’t happen to be free again tomorrow? I could really use someone as skilful and hard working as you in my café. My customers loved you.”
I shrug my shoulders slightly. I had planned on leaving town tonight, but I guess one more day here won’t hurt. The money will come in handy. “Okay, I’d love that.”
“Wonderful. Could you start at ten?”
“Sounds perfect.”
“You’re a gem.”
“Hardly,” I reply with a chuckle.
“Don’t underestimate yourself, I know a gem when I find one. Good help is hard to find. If I could, I’d hire you on the spot and never let you go.” She says it with such sincerity, which should have me feeling proud, but in that moment, I realise just how low my self-esteem has become. When you’re constantly belittled and told how useless you are, you actually start to believe it.
“Thank you,” I say, giving her a small wave as I turn and head towards the door.