by Holla Dean
Then it was time to pack her clothes and the things she was not willing to leave behind. Maggie went to the local thrift shop and bought several items of clothing. She purchased blouses, skirts, pants, and dresses. When Frank was at work, she packed the clothes in her closet into her suitcases and then hung the clothes from the thrift store in her closet and placed some of them in her drawers. Frank never noticed the difference in clothes.
Maggie wasn’t overly attached to her furniture or other household goods. All of those things were replaceable and she had enough money in the bank to buy whatever she needed after she found a place where she could settle down. She packed up her old photo albums and other mementos in a box and shipped them to her parents for safekeeping. They knew she was leaving Frank.
The last step was to purchase a new cell phone that Frank did not know about. For this she recruited her friend Emily. They went to the cell phone store and Maggie picked out the latest and greatest Smartphone. It had unlimited calls and unlimited data usage. It was purchased under Emily’s name and Maggie paid for one year of service. Emily took it home with her so there would be no possibility of Frank finding it. She already had Maggie’s new laptop at her house.
Maggie gave her two week notice at the medical center. After her last day, she went home and cooked dinner. She made lasagna, thinking it would be the final meal she’d ever cook for Frank. There would be enough leftovers to feed him through the weekend.
All she had to do was get through Friday night until Frank fell asleep. Then she would take her suitcases out to the car, drive to Emily’s to pick up the new laptop and cell phone, and take off.
She wasn’t worried about waking up Frank. He always got drunk on Friday night and passed out after they had sex. Frank slept in on Saturdays since he didn’t have to be at work until noon. Frank was the sales manager and half owner of a large auto dealership and always worked weekends. Her biggest concern on her last night with Frank was that he would beat her.
Friday nights had become the most often night that Frank beat her. It was a night that generally consisted of him getting drunk, accusing her of cheating on him, and using him for his money. She would try and soothe him, assure him that she loved him and would never cheat on him. But Frank never listened to her protests, and eventually would strike her, usually slapping her across the face.
Then the blows would continue, raining down on her head and shoulders as she cowered in a ball on the sofa or in a corner. She had learned not to fight back. That always made it worse. Frank would then have to show her that he was in charge, that he was stronger than her, and there was no way she could win.
Maggie recalled how horribly wrong the night had gone. Dinner was fine; Frank loved her lasagna and ate his fill along with garlic bread and a salad. Then they sat down to watch television and Frank started drinking his bourbon. By the time the news was over Frank had consumed more than half the bottle. His speech was slurred and Maggie made sure not to say anything at all unless Frank spoke directly to her.
She was scared, just like she was every Friday night. When the news was over she got up and started to head for the bedroom.
Frank grabbed her arm roughly and asked, “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
“I just thought I’d go and change, get ready for bed.” Maggie tried to give him a smile as she pretended that everything was all right.
“You’ll get ready when I say. Now sit back down,” he snarled at her.
Maggie smiled again and reached out her hand to caress his chest. “I wanted to get ready for you, honey. But I’ll sit with you until you’re ready to go to bed.”
She never saw it coming. The blow across her brow hit the corner of her eye and knocked her down so she fell across him onto the sofa. It felt like he had punched her, though she knew he had just back handed her very hard.
Maggie felt her eye swelling shut. Before she could curl herself up in a tight ball, Frank got up and pounded her ribs, cracking one of them. He jammed his knee into her lower back bruising her kidney. Then he just hit, slapped, and punched until he ran out of steam.
Frank finally sat down on the sofa. After a long while he put his face in his hands and started mumbling how sorry he was. He put his hand out and gently touched Maggie’s hip. When she flinched at his touch, he began to cry. “Oh, Maggie baby. I don’t know what the hell came over me. I’m so sorry baby. Please tell me you still love me. I promise it will never happen again.”
He sounded so sincere. Maggie almost believed him. She knew that it would never happen again. But not because of his promises. She knew because once he passed out, she was leaving. Leaving him for good.
“Maggie baby, come on, honey. You know I love you. Tell me you love me; tell me you’ll forgive me. I’m sorry baby, I’m so sorry.”
Maggie could not bring herself to tell him what he wanted to hear. She was crying, she was in pain, and she was having a hard time breathing. She knew at least one rib was cracked. If he expected to have sex now, she knew it would be almost impossible for her. She was afraid if she refused he would end up in another rage.
Frank stood, bent over, and picked her up. He carried her to the bedroom, murmuring words of love and remorse. He laid her on the bed and she winced in pain. Frank continued to talk softly and undressed her. He undressed himself and got in the bed on his side and touched her.
She flinched and then forced herself to relax. But every breath hurt. As Frank continued to run his hand over her naked body, he drifted off into a drunken sleep. It was just as well, his dick was as limp as a dishrag.
Maggie waited a half hour and then painfully got up. She went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Oh my god! She thought this was the worst Frank had ever hurt her. Her right eye was swollen completely shut and turning a very deep purple color. Her jaw was swollen as well, though she could move it without much pain. She looked at her ribcage and saw the discoloring there and more swelling.
Maggie opened the bottom drawer of the bathroom vanity and pulled out the first aid kit. She carefully wrapped her ribs as best as she could. Then she went to the kitchen and got two ice packs for her eye and jaw. She sat on the sofa and iced the injuries to her face for about fifteen minutes.
She got dressed, moving slowly, and taking shallow breaths. She quietly went into her closet and pulled out the largest suitcase. It hurt her cracked rib to pick it up, so she dragged it across the carpet to the front door. The other suitcases were in the closet of the second bedroom and she got those and put them next to the first one.
She had to rest then, so she sat down and put ice on her facial injuries again for another ten minutes.
Maggie opened the front door and one by one, she rolled the suitcases to her SUV and stowed them in the back. She went back inside, grabbed two coats, one heavy one and one lighter one. Then she picked up her purse and keys and took everything out to the car.
Her heart was pounding in fear that Frank would wake up and demand to know what the hell she was doing. With each breath and each beat of her heart, she felt like her cracked rib was about to puncture her lung. She longed to take a deep cleansing breath, but knew that would cause more pain than she could endure. Not to mention the strain it would put on the rib.
Maggie went back inside one last time. She tiptoed into the bedroom to check on Frank. He was lying there, with his mouth open, snoring loudly. She was safe.
In the kitchen she quickly wrote her note to him. She took a quick look around and wondered if there was anything she wanted to take that she hadn’t thought of. In the living room, she saw the soft afghan her mother had made her last Christmas. It was made from soft yarn of rich browns mixed in with deep reds. No way was she leaving that with Frank.
Holding the afghan to her chest, Maggie left the little house for the last time. She closed the door softly, locked it, and made her way to the car.
The driveway sloped away from the house; it was a good fifty feet long. Maggie put the car in neutra
Her friend Emily lived about twenty minutes away. She lived with her mother and two children in the same house she had grown up in. Emily was divorced from her abusive husband and had been urging Maggie to leave Frank for nearly three years.
Emily came out of her house to see why Maggie was taking so long to get out of the car. As she got closer, she could tell Maggie was in pain. She ran to the car to help her friend and stopped, staring in horror when she saw Maggie’s face.
“What the hell did that bastard do to you!?” She cried out.
“I’m okay, Emily,” Maggie said. “It wasn’t a good night, but I’m okay.”
“Come in the house and let me take a look at you.” Emily was also a nurse; the two women had met in nursing school and become fast friends.
“Emily, I can’t. If Frank wakes up and finds me gone, this is the first place he’ll look. I’ll just grab the laptop and cell phone.”
Emily looked at her friend and shook her head. “You stay here; I’ll get your stuff and bring it out.”
She ran inside and came back out with not only the laptop and cell phone, but a small cooler and a travel mug of coffee. Inside the cooler were a half dozen bottles of water and a couple of sandwiches. Emily slid into the passenger seat and tried to gauge if her friend was really up to a long night of driving. Maggie really didn’t look too good and now Emily noticed that she wasn’t breathing normally.
“Where else are you hurt?” She asked.
“I think he cracked one of my ribs. It hurts to breathe, but I’m sure it’s just cracked. I wrapped up my ribcage. It’ll be okay.”
“Maggie, why don’t you put your car in my garage and spend the night here? You can rest and get started tomorrow after you know Frank is at work.”
“No, I can’t. Thanks Emily, but I have to go tonight. For all I know he’ll call in sick tomorrow and start looking for me. I can’t risk it.”
“All right, Maggie. I want you to call me every hour on that new cell phone and let me know that you’re all right.” She put the cooler on the passenger seat when she got out.
Emily walked over to the driver’s side and opened the door. She leaned inside and gave Maggie a very gentle hug. “Stay in touch, Maggie. Drive safely and don’t push yourself too hard. If you get tired try to stop at a hotel that has an underground garage so your car won’t be easily spotted.”
“I will, but I’m not going to call you every hour; you need to get your sleep. Don’t worry, I’ll call you tomorrow. Thanks for all your help.”
Both women were on the verge of crying, but both stayed strong and Maggie put her car in gear and drove towards the freeway. North, she thought. I’ll head north. Frank will think I’m going east towards Chicago, so I’ll head north.
By Monday evening Maggie was in Wyoming near the Montana border and saw an exit sign for a town called Blue Moon. She took the exit and followed the sign that said Blue Moon was twenty-one miles to the west.
When she approached the edge of town she saw the Welcome to Blue Moon sign stating a population of less than ten thousand. As she drove through the small town, Maggie thought she liked it. She was about thirteen or fourteen hundred miles from Frank and that should be enough. He would never think to look for her in a little town like this.
Five minutes later she was at the other end of Blue Moon and she made a U-turn to drive through the main street again. She spotted a series of white washed cottages with a corny sign that read Home Sweet Home. A neon vacancy sign flashed on and off. Below that, another sign said ‘Comfy, cozy cottages. Daily, weekly, or monthly rates available.’
The property was clean and well maintained. Each cottage had pretty flowers planted in the front and along one side. The other side had a covered car port.
Maggie parked at the front office, which was another cottage, and went inside. It was dimly lit inside the office and Maggie removed her sunglasses. Her eye was no longer swollen shut, but it still had some swelling and the blue and purple colors were vivid.
“Welcome to Home Sweet Home. Would you like a cottage for the night?” The woman behind the small counter looked about sixty-five years old and the badge pinned to her blouse said her name was Nancy. “Why, whatever happened to your eye? You ought to run over to the clinic and have Doc Spencer take a look at that.”
Maggie smiled, ignored the reference to her eye, and asked, “What are your rates?”
“Will you be staying just the night or a little longer?” Nancy asked.
“I’m not sure how long I’ll be staying. Maybe we’ll start with a week. What’s the rate for a week?”
Nancy pushed a laminated rate sheet across the counter so Maggie could read them all. All the cottages appeared to be two bedrooms with one bath, a living area, and a kitchenette complete with range/oven, fridge, and microwave. Each cottage had a stackable washer/dryer unit in a closet. The rates were more than reasonable and Maggie decided to take a week and if all worked out, then she could extend it for a longer time.
“If there’s one available near the rear of the property, I’d prefer that.”
Nancy answered, “The last two on the left side are both empty; you can have your pick. They’re all furnished the same and have the same layouts.”
“I’ll take the last one, thank you.”
Nancy gave Maggie a registration card to fill out, got the key off the hook on the wall, handed it to Maggie and said, “Just park in the carport, there’s a side door for easy loading and unloading. Let me know if you need anything else, Ms. Mallory.”
Maggie smiled at the older woman and said, “Thanks, right now I just need some sleep.”
“I don’t want to meddle and tell you what to do,” Nancy said. “But that eye looks pretty bad, the clinic is just down the street a few blocks and Doc Spencer will be happy to look at it for you.”
“Maybe tomorrow. I just want to settle in and sleep now.” Maggie was not feeling well. Her rib hurt like hell. She knew she was exhausted and she knew she had not eaten nearly enough over the last three days. She had no energy for finding food and drove to her little cottage.
After parking she opened the side door and peeked inside. She was surprised at the homey furnishings. A small pretty sofa upholstered in a flowery pattern, a matching chair, coffee table, an end table with a lamp, and a television set were in the living area. On one wall next to the kitchenette, was a small, round dining table with two chairs.
Maggie walked to the first bedroom and found a queen sized bed with what looked like a homemade quilt. A night stand, chest of drawers, and tiny clothes closet completed the small space. The second bedroom was identical in furnishings, but it was a little bigger, had a small desk with internet access, and was closer to the bathroom. Maggie decided this would be her bedroom.
The bath was small with just a shower, no tub. The sink and toilet filled the rest of the space. There’d be no long soaking baths taken here. But that was all right, Maggie was a shower type of girl.
The kitchenette was the tiniest kitchen Maggie had ever seen. Though the design made use of every inch of space, there was barely room to move around. The fridge was an under the counter model, the range/oven was very small, and the microwave was a small counter model. The double stainless steel sink looked like it could handle only three or four dishes at a time. But it would do for now.
All in all, Maggie found the cottage charming and it was just what she needed now.
She went back outside and began moving her suitcases in. Then she brought in her laptop and the afghan her mother had made. Maggie locked the car and for a moment had a little dizzy spell. Sleep, she thought, I need to sleep.
Inside, back in the bedroom, Maggie didn’t even bother to unpack. She stripped her clothes off, lay down on the pretty quilt and covered herself with the afghan.
SPANK HER AGAIN
CHAPTER TWO
Maggie woke up to a banging on the front door. She was a little disoriented at first, not sure where she was. As she looked around, she remembered. The cottage, she had rented the cottage for a week.
Flinging off the afghan, she realized she was naked and as quickly as she could with her sore rib, put on the same clothes she wore the day before. Nothing else was unpacked.
She peeked out the front window to see who it was before she opened the door. Nancy was standing there with a worried look on her face. Maggie opened up and asked, “Is something wrong?”
Nancy smiled and said, “No, nothing at all. I just brought you over some of the sticky buns I made this morning. You never went out for supper last night and I thought you might be hungry.”
Maggie took the offered plate that had four of the sticky buns covered with clear food wrap. “That’s very kind of you, Ms…uh, Nancy. Thank you, would you like to come in?”
“No, I’m sure you’d like to get settled in. I don’t normally bring breakfast to my cottage guests, but you looked so tired last night and I guess I was worried about you with that big ol’ black eye of yours. It’s not looking much better, by the way. You best get on over to Doc Spencer once you’ve got yourself ready for the day.”
“Well, thanks again,” Maggie said. “I’ll be going to get some groceries later and I’ll think about going to the clinic.”
Nancy left and Maggie stood there thinking about all she’d heard and read about small town life. Everybody knows everyone and their business. Was this really where she wanted to be? She wasn’t sure, but she’d paid for a week and if nothing else, she would take the week to heal and think about what she wanted for her future.
Maggie went to the kitchen and got a fork. She sat down at the small dining table and ate two of the sticky buns. They were delicious. Nancy might be a little busybody but she sure knew how to make sticky buns.
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