by Piper Frost
“I don't care if it's cute. I don't care if it's repulsive. What I care about is why most of your goddamn body is covered in bruises. From the looks of it, all in different motherfucking stages of healing, Affton!” I've never felt so much rage. Not until right now.
“I was in an accident. Is that what you want to hear?” She tries to push me out of the way of the door and I let her, because I'm not about to add to the painting of color on that beautiful fucking body.
She shoves her way to the bedroom and slams the door. I let out a growl, thrusting my fist into the doorframe. The pain doesn't help anything.
With heavy feet I storm to the kitchen, slamming the cabinet doors while making myself a drink. I fucking need a drink. Because my Beany's not the girl I made her out to be. I don't fucking know who this girl is anymore. Married without telling us? In a motherfucking accident that left her that bruised and battered without telling us? Hell, she's probably got three or four kids by now too! Who the fuck knows who this girl is anymore?!
I finish my drink and stare into my empty glass.
“Shit,” I huff, hanging my head.
If I’m her supposed longest, best friend I wouldn't be out here pissed that she didn't tell me. I'd be in there, like a friend-zoned motherfucking pussy trying to make sure she's okay. Shaking my head, I walk back to her closed door and knock gently.
“Affton?”
I hear the sniffles before her clearing her throat. “What?” she calls through the closed door.
“Can I come in?” I rest my head on the door, my hand on the handle just waiting for the invite.
It's a few minutes before she quietly replies, “Yes.”
The door slowly opens and I see her sitting at the small desk, trying to reapply her makeup that hides the bruising and marks. Explains a lot. My stomach drops watching her trembling hand as she tries to smear over one of the darker bruises.
“Affton, stop,” I say, my stomach rolling. “I've already seen them.” I walk over to her and sit on the side of the bed.
With a huff, she sets her makeup wand down and picks up her phone, quickly pounding out a text.
“I didn’t want you to see any of this,” she whispers.
“Why not?” I rest my elbows on my knees and lean forward, looking at her as she stares at her phone screen.
Her face scrunches at whatever she just texted and she quickly types out another response. “Because it's unbecoming. I look like hell. No one would want anyone to see them like this.” She looks up at me and her eyes are glistening with tears.
I shift forward, our knees almost touching. “It's me, Beany. I've seen every part of you. I don’t like that my longest, closest friend thinks she needs to hide something like this from me. It makes me sick. Why didn't you call after the accident?”
A breathy laugh escapes her while she looks upward and wipes at her cheeks. “I don't know, Tommy.” Her head shakes but she keeps it dropped back.
When her phone chimes again, she quickly grabs it and is immediately texting again before her face scrunches while she tries to fight back a sob. When it starts to escape, she sets her phone down and pushes herself into my arms, bursting into tears. I squeeze my eyes closed, trying not to let the tears escape.
“It's fine, Affton. It'll be fine.” I smooth down her wet hair, holding her as tight as I can without hurting her.
When her phone screen lights up, the texts that she's been so intent on replying to so quickly are already open and I see who she's been texting. My eyes scan the screen that she doesn't know is waiting for her to read and suddenly everything makes perfect fucking sense.
And I'm ready to murder someone.
“Affton,” I whisper, my body shaking as I reach for the phone and pull out of her grasp. “What. The. Fuck?” I hold the screen, the words and images on it blaringly obvious.
Corey: Remember this day? I fucking do. You looked like shit while you snored on my bloody pillow. Just remember, I can always make it ten times worse.
My trembling hand holds the phone, my eyes staring at the picture he sent. This motherfucker did this to her. I fucking knew it wasn't from an accident! Fuck!
She reaches for the phone but I pull it back. “Please!” she howls and my eyes go wide. “Please give me the phone! I have to text him back!” She's trying to fight the thing out of my hand.
I stand, taking the phone with me and shoving it into my pocket. She's not fucking getting this thing back. She's not leaving this house again! She...she can't go back to him!
“Affton! You can't talk to that man! He... He fucking did this to you!” I whimper out the words, pacing the bedroom. My hands run through my hair and I feel her phone vibrate in my pocket again but I don't have the stomach to open it. “How long? He's the husband, right? How long, Affton?” I’m trying not to be mad at her, but who the fuck in their right mind stays with someone that does this to them!
She grabs my hips and drops to her knees before her hands clasp and she begs, “Please give me my phone! I have to respond!”
“No you don't!” I bellow, letting the tears slip down my face. “You don't! You don't owe him anything but a shotgun shell to the motherfucking face!” I drop to the floor in front of her and take her hands in mine. “Beany,” I whisper, searching her eyes. He took whatever fight my girl had and he completely crushed her.
Yanking her hands from mine, she scrambles to her feet and frantically slips on the heels she showed up in, but she's in pajama pants.
“I have to find a phone,” she pants, running in circles, looking for something before grabbing her keys. “I need a phone,” she keeps repeating and runs for the door.
“Stop!” I run after her. “Fuck, just stop. Fine,” I mutter, defeated. “Take it. Just...please don't leave.” I slowly feel my soul crushing as I pull her ringing phone out of my pocket.
She pushes her hand to my lips and quickly answers, holding it to her ear. “I'm sorry, I was in the elevator,” she blurts. “I'm not ignoring you.” I can feel her hand tremble on my lips. “I promise you I'm alone.” I roll my eyes and take a step back, shoving my hands in my pockets.
Corey. Motherfucking Corey. I'm going to murder you, Corey. You fucking wait.
“No, Corey, I'm alone.” She's shaking while on the phone with her husband! She's terrified of a fucking phone call! “I love you, I would never ignore you.” You don't love him. You love me. You're scared to death of him. Holy fuck, what did he do to you? ”Yes, I'll be leaving tomorrow afternoon. We'll stay on the phone my entire drive.” The fake laugh that comes out of her, loud, obnoxious, and unbelievable shatters me. She's fucking perfected this. “I love you. Sleep well.”
She ends the call and won't look at me.
“You're not leaving,” I growl. “Not tomorrow. Not the next day. Not ever, Affton. You're not going back to him.”
“Tommy, please.” She sighs and closes her eyes. “You don't understand.”
“Enlighten me. Because right now the girl I—” I stop and let out a laugh. A loud one, because I have no right to anything right now but I'm acting like she owes me the world. “You know what? You're not allowed to walk in here and defend a guy that will do this to you. I don't care how nice he is to you when he's happy. If he can do this to you, what else can he do? Huh? Has he ever broken any bones? He will, if he hasn't. Stitches yet, Affton? Or does he treat you at home so you don’t have to be seen at the hospital time and time again?” My heart's fucking racing and I want to vomit. She's not going to stand here and defend that!
“I'm sorry,” she blurts and I'm shocked when she shoves herself against my chest and wraps her arms tight. “Please don't be angry at me.” Holy shit...she's treating me how she probably treats him so he won't hit her. “I'm so sorry. Don't be angry.”
I let out a sob, because she's fucking brainwashed!
“Affton, baby.” Fuck. “I'm not mad at you. I just don't get it. Help me understand, please.” I wipe at my face. “What did he do to you?” It c
omes out a whimper before I choke back another sob.
“I don't know,” she cries and backs away, covering her face. “I don't understand it myself!” Dropping her hands she looks me dead in the eyes. “Please don't hate me.”
“Beany, I could never hate you.” I cup her face. The bruises across her jaw make me clench mine. I hate Corey. I hate the life she's been living, probably for all five goddamned years. But I could never hate her. “Stop treating me like I'm mad at you, Affton. I'm not mad at you.” I shake my head. “You need to start from the beginning, Bean. I need to know everything.”
I don't want to know everything. I want to get her address, knock on that fuckers front door, then shove a knife in his dick before shooting his fucking brains out.
“Tommy,” she says my name in panic. “You can't tell anyone. You can't tell my brother. If you ever, ever cared about me, you...can't. Please, you don't understand.”
My eyes go wide. I can't tell anyone? I...
“Beany, you're not going back to him. We're getting you checked out to make sure that asshole didn't do worse damage, then you're going to stay here until we...you…whoever can figure this shit out.”
“Do you have alcohol? Wine? I need a drink and we'll talk.” She blinks her gaze away from me and the look on her face is humiliation.
I push to my feet and hold my hand out to help her up. “I don't have wine but there's shit in there you used to like.” Not sure if she'll still like it. Seems too much has changed to even consider this is the same girl from my past.
As she follows me to the kitchen, her phone starts to ring but it sounds like a video call this time and she whimpers. “I'm sorry, Tommy,” she says before rushing back to her room and closing the door.
I stare at the closed door, my fists clenched tight, for what feels like a lifetime before heading to the kitchen. I grab two glasses, tossing ice in each, then pour her favorite whiskey in both. And then I wait. Gripping the sides of the countertop, I hang my head and try to figure out the next steps. She has to press charges. She can't let him get away with this. Her dad'll fight this until the end, I know he will. And with everyone here in this town she'll be safe from him.
After a half hour and still nothing from her, I head out back and fall into a chair on my patio. Ginnie's doing flips in the middle of the yard, chasing after a bug or something. This is the life she could be living. Happy and with me.
Not beaten and broken down.
If she’s so hell-bent on being in a relationship, it should be with me. I can treat her how she deserves to be treated. I just don’t understand how she got herself into this situation.
I hear the door open but I don't bother to look. She'll talk when she's ready. But she doesn't say anything. Her arms wrap over my chair and around my shoulders while her head rests on top of mine.
“I'm so sorry. And I mean it,” she whispers.
“Please stop apologizing to me.” I clear my throat, bringing my glass to my lips. “You see your drink on the counter?”
“Thanks,” she mumbles and heads back inside. I almost expect her to go back to her room, but she heads back out and sits in the empty chair next to me before she starts to giggle. It's the first real sound I've heard from her since she's been here. “Is that Ginnie?” she asks in excitement.
“Yeah.” I try to smile but I can't. How can she switch gears so quickly? Like this isn't rocking her world.
Well, I mean it probably isn't rocking her world. This is her world. She's...fuck, she's used to it.
“She's so freaking cute.” She smiles over at me but quickly looks away, probably noticing I'm not smiling along with her.
“She's pretty awesome.” I finish my drink and wish I had another. I watch her stare at Ginnie with a soft smile on her face, but the tiny line between her eyebrows is tight like she's deep in thought. “How's your husband?” I ask, trying not to sound too pissy but it's hard when bringing this topic up. I'm not backing down though. I need to know what and why she goes through this bullshit.
“Tommy, don't,” she mutters. “What the hell were you thinking walking into the bathroom like that? Did you think when I said no small talk that I really meant please burst into the bathroom on me? How can you be such a dick that you automatically assumed I came here to have sex with you? I know what we did through text, and I'm sorry I...led you on. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you I'm married. But I am.”
I snicker. “Me? You're mad that what? I saw the truth of your perfect happy fucking life?” My teeth scrape over my bottom lip and I'm trying my hardest not to scream at her. “I don't get it, Affton! Why do you let him do this to you?! Can't you see how fucking horrible this is?!” I'm not going to entertain her attempt to take the focus off the real issue here. Who the fuck cares that she's married? Not me. Not anymore. She'll be a widow soon enough if I can get my fucking hands on him.
“Please stop yelling at me,” she murmurs and her eyes drop to her drink.
I hate that she's so easily complacent. Like she'd say anything right now just to make me not so angry. But that's not how this works.
“No. I won't. Not until you give me a reason to shut up and listen. This is outrageous, Affton. That you're sitting here worried that I'm mad instead of being pissed that he's done this to you! How many times? Huh? This isn't the first, is it?” I clench my fists around my glass. Goddammit.
“I said stop screaming at me!” she shouts before gasping and setting her drink down to cover her face. “I'm sorry. Please stop screaming at me. Please!” Looking at me, she's crying again and I can see her entire body's shaking.
“I'm sorry,” I manage through a thick throat. “I need to understand. Beany, please help me understand,” I plead. I don't think I'll ever fully understand. I know I'll never accept it. But maybe if I can figure out her reasoning I’ll understand her mindset.
“He's not a bad man.” Her eyes go wide and drop to the ground as she covers her mouth. “Jesus,” she whispers and her head starts to nod as her tears fall heavier. “Yes he is. But he's not always like this. Fuck, Tommy. What do you want me to say? I fucked up. That's all there is to it. I fucked up.” She looks at me again and the bruising across her jaw looks like a shadow, but it's not. It's marks he put on her fucking body.
“You didn't fuck up, Affton. He fucking did. But why the hell are you still with him? Why didn't you stab him in the face the first time he put his hands on you?”
She's blaming herself! For what he's done to her!
She snickers and shakes her head. “You asked me the same exact question about my dad once. Remember that?” She glances at me before taking a gulp of her drink. “He was being completely unreasonable and his threats were insane. I...I don't remember what it was about but you asked me why I didn't just punch him in the face.” A sad smile lifts her lips while she tries to explain to me she puts up with this shit 'cause she was conditioned to since she was born. But her dad never fucking hit her.
“Two totally different scenarios, Affton, and you know it,” I almost growl out. “Answer me this. It's a simple yes or no answer.” I wait until she catches my gaze. Her eyes are hollow. Sad. “Was this the first time he's done this to you?”
A shaky breath exhales and she drops her head. After a few minutes, she huffs and gets to her feet, finishing her drink. She's not going to fucking walk away without answering me. When she moves, I almost snatch her wrist, but she doesn't walk past me, she sits on the deck at my feet and lays her head against my knee.
“I never wanted to marry him. I didn't even want to get into a monogamous relationship. Suddenly my job was riding on being committed to him. And don't fucking bash my job, Tommy. You know I've wanted this my entire life. And then two years later I was unexpectedly pregnant and getting married was the right thing to do, I guess.” Her head lifts so she can look at me. “I miscarried, by the way.”
“I know,” I whisper, pain filling my chest for her but happy she's finally talking. I push her hair behind her ear. “
I'd say I’m sorry, but I'll be the dick and say thank god that baby wasn't born into whatever hell you're living in.”
Her head rests on my knee again. “It wasn't long after that that we had been drinking and got into an argument one night. He hit me then cried all night. Fucking bawled over it so I believed he didn't mean to hurt me.” She sighs and rubs her eyes. “It didn't happen again for a long time. The second time, I just wanted the incident to be erased. If I leave him, I lose my job, and by the second time, it was almost worth it, but I believed him when he said he wouldn't do it again. The third and fourth time were delivered with death threats and it was too late to get out. He doesn't hit me all the time, but it's just easier if I comply. I'm staying with him. I don't have a choice. You can think what you want about me, but please don't hate me.”
“You don't have a choice?” I mutter the words, feeling my blood start to boil. “You always have a choice, Affton. Always.”
“I'm so fucking glad you understand what I'm going through, Tommy.” She gets up. “Thanks for understanding for me. Thanks for not giving a fuck if I live or die, because I know what my choices are.” She tries to walk away but before she gets to the door my hand is around her wrist lightly. I refuse to let her walk away right now.
“I get you're pissed that I'm not telling you you're doing the right thing, but, Affton, you've got to understand where I’m coming from. In a world where beating your wife is a horrible, god awful thing that puts people in jail, how can you expect me to accept and understand what you're going through?” I look down where my hand's around her wrist. Touching her used to feel a whole hell of a lot better than this. “He's beating my girl, Beanie. My fucking girl.”
“I'm not your girl,” she whispers. “And you don't have to understand, but you do have to understand I didn't come here for this. I didn't come here to answer to you. I'm fucking sorry and I'm only saying it because for the first time in a long time, I mean those words. I'm sorry I'm not living up to your expectations.”