by Bellus,HJ
“Wait.” I hold my hand up. “Was he stripping when I had my bachelorette party there?”
“You mean your death sentence?” Darby asks.
Ava elbows her in the ribs. “Don’t be an asshole. No, he was the bartender. Kip hasn’t been stripping long. Just helping out Ross.”
“He seems to be quite the gracious Samaritan.” This time there’s no disguising the thick annoyance dripping from every single word.
Ava does a fantastic job of lightening the mood the rest of the afternoon, exploring all kinds of topics us girls need to catch up on. Just like in college we’re sporadic, discussing everything from new fashion trends to the size of our last poop. I’m sure we’ll have to go a town over if we ever want another spa day.
At the end of the long morning that blends into late afternoon, I’m left a with a long bob that floats just above my shoulders. I have thick bangs and a gorgeous caramel brown color with hints of auburn highlights. It’s the trendiest I’ve looked since before Zack and I can’t help but smile.
On the ride back to Kip’s I play with the loose curls framing my face and realize even though I’m at the lowest state of my life right now, I’m happy. It’s a weird happy laced with guilt, embarrassment, and hurt. The happiness lingers like a single fleck of gold in a cold stream of water. Barely there, but there. It’s the sign of a tiny promise of hope in a monumental sea of despair.
“Ladies.” Kip nods and opens my door before Ava has her engine off.
I study him before he sees me and watch his expression. I’m not sure why it even matters how he reacts, but I’m a fool and can’t help but stare.
“Chloe.” He ducks his head down in the back seat. “Wow.”
His brown eyes dilate and his toothy smile lights up the backseat. My insides quiver and fingers begin to tremble. This was a bad idea, such a bad idea. Tears well up in my eyes and my gut wrenches.
“Chloe,” he whispers.
Sweat beads up on my forehead and the vortex whirling around in my belly threatens to expel.
“Move.”
The pain shooting through my arm makes me dizzy when I hoist myself from the car and run for a trashcan outside the garage door. The lid is barely off before the storm inside me spills out. Once the liquid is gone the dry heaves begin.
I feel hands on my back and can hear my friends’ voices. Kip’s is a bit louder, demanding answers from them. My brain knows it’s not Zack, but my body goes straight to autopilot. It is Zack and he’s livid with me for doing something without his permission. My arm spasms, intensifying the pain and fear coursing through me.
The longer the situation goes, the more out of control everything feels. He still has power over me, controlling me, and I can’t even fight it miles away.
“Hey, baby. We’re home.”
I’m nervous as hell when I enter my home with Jenna. Her husband is Zack’s new big dog lawyer and they’re the closest to our age among all of our so-called friends. She invited me to the salon with her today and ended up convincing me to get a makeover.
My life is a tricky one. It’s a strategic poker hand I always have to play carefully. I can never show fear and have to make the best decisions on my feet to represent Zack in the best light.
“Back on the patio.” His words are a bit slurred and I cringe knowing when he drinks it’s the worst.
“Our guys are going to be so excited.” Jenna picks up the pace. “Sam loves it when I do this; says it’s like having a new woman.
If she’s playing a poker hand then she’s a damn card shark showing no fear or reservations. Me, on the other hand, I should have folded instead of going all in. My nervous fingers strum my curls. It was only a few inches and a couple highlights, nothing drastic at all.
Jenna leaps into Sam’s lap spilling some of his drink onto the white patio chair. I flinch when the dark brown liquid hits the white material and then notice Zack’s jaw flex and fists ball up.
Jenna and Sam are too wrapped in dirty talk and light kissing to notice any of it. Zack squints his eyes at me and I know it’s going to be bad, very bad. I begin to tremble, but he sends me a slight nod and I know better.
“Zack, what do you think of Chloe’s hair?” Jenna asks with a beaming smile.
He rises from his chair and I know he’s too smart to hurt me while they’re here. Actually, I pray they never leave tonight. He closes the space between us, until his hand snakes up the back of my neck until his hand is fisting my hair. He pulls on it so hard, I can hear the hair rip, but like I said he’s a smart man and talks at the same time.
“Pretty lady.” He leans down, so only I can hear. “You look like a fucking white trash whore.”
He stands back up and kisses the tip of my nose.
“Did you guys have fun golfing?” I ask, controlling the fear threatening to over take my tone.
It’s small talk that lasts like this for the next two hours. Zack is so toasted by the time our company leaves I’m hopeful he’ll pass out. But no such luck. As I finish washing my face and flipping off the master bathroom lights, I’m ripped down by the hair.
My cheek slams into the cold tile floor making me see stars. Everything goes black, but the overwhelming sensation of my hair being pulled on and the carpet below me burning my skin wakens me. I pray to pass out again.
“What in the fuck made you think I wanted my wife to look like a cheap whore?”
“I’m sorry, Zack.”
“I take one afternoon off to golf with a friend and you think it’s national become a whore day.”
I look up in time to see him pull a shiny golf club from behind his back.
“You show me no respect and one day you’ll learn, but I’m starting to think you’re too fucking dumb.”
He takes a swing, connecting high on the side of my outer thigh. The sharp edge of the club slices my skin. He connects again, cutting me further open. I’ve learned to never scream or it will only last longer.
My crimson blood flows from my body, soaking into the pristine white carpet. It’s a sponge and my mistake is being absorbed by it.
He finally bends down, swaying back and forth from all the whiskey he’d drank. It takes him a bit to kneel down by me. The golf club is only feet from my reach. All I’d have to do is reach over and swing it at him.
He clutches to the back of my hair, pulling my face back up to look at him; his eyes are wild with no signs of his reign of hell stopping anytime. He’s a switch and can flip anytime. It’s society, the stress, and me fucking up that are his triggers.
“Now you’ve stained my carpet, you bitch,” he grits out between clenched teeth. “All because you’re an ugly ass whore.”
I place a hand on his chest, hoping it will calm him. It’s a mistake and I should know better.
“Don’t touch me. You’re not good enough.”
He pulls me by the hair until he has my face inches above the pool of blood on the carpet.
“You will not clean this or have it replaced. You’ll see this stain every single day and it will serve as a reminder to never disobey me again.”
My face is smashed into the cold liquid. I can barely get my nose and mouth to the side to breathe. He applies so much pressure to the back of my head, I swear I’m only inches from having my neck snapped.
I hear the sound of his zipper and then feel my skirt rip from my waist. He doesn’t remove my panties before he impales me. He’s in my ass without warning and I want to scream out my pain. It hurts so bad. All of it hurts. Every single thing hurts.
“Move.”
Kip’s voice pulls me from the horrible memory. I panic and pull at the ends of my hair, disgusted with myself. I hate myself. I fucking hate myself. My chest is heavy and I can’t pull air into my lungs with each second that goes by. I realize how pathetic and worthless of a human I really am. I’m in a downward spiral and can’t pull from it.
Ava and Darby back up, letting Kip near me. He bends down, holding out his arms and I panic
.
“No,” I scream and slam back into the wall of the garage. “No.”
“Chloe, you’ve been triggered and need to calm down. I need you to breathe and work through it.” He raises both hands and steps back. “I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to, but you need to breathe in and out, okay?”
Kip’s voice is soothing and trained. So are his facial features and hand gestures. He’s a good guy trying to help and it only guts me even further. It’s the final fucking dull knife buried deep in my gut and is being slowly twisted.
“Who am I?” I whisper, before sliding down the wall and collapsing on my butt. I bury my face in my bent knees and sob.
I feel a hand on my leg and know it’s too little to be Kip’s.
“Please go,” I whisper between my sobs. “I can’t do this.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” Ava responds.
I wail harder into my kneecaps.
A body slides down next to mine and just from the scent, I know it’s Kip. He doesn’t touch me and doesn’t talk for a long time. His breathing becomes rhythmic and I study it. It calms me down, but the silent tears still roll.
“I like your hair,” his deep voice finally booms.
“Chloe, you need to talk, honey. You can’t keep this all in.” Darby holds my other leg.
When I look up, Ava and Darby are sitting in front of me and Kip is at my side. I’m a numb shell of a person who’s lost her final gleam of hope in life. Memories of Zack will always haunt me. I’ll never be able to escape him. It’s like a prison sentence no matter how far I run from him.
My head becomes heavy on my shoulders, so I lean to the side until my cheek hits the top of Kip’s shoulder.
“The last time I had my…” I pause. “my hair cut. It was bad.”
“Go ahead,” Ava nods.
I relive the nightmare again when I let it spill from my soul. I don’t have anything left to puke this time and the tears have dried up. The invisible layer of shame and guilt blanket me.
My three friends remain frozen when I’m finished talking. Not one word is spoken. There’s no it’s going to be okay or you need to file charges. I’ve left them stunned.
“I’m sorry.” I look up to Kip. “I’m sorry that happened. There was no warning, it just nailed me in the gut.”
“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry. It’s not your fault, Chloe.”
“But it is and that’s the thing I’m worried about never being able to get over. It’s my fault for staying. I knew better than to have my hair done.”
Kip looks over to Ava and Darby who are silently crying for me.
“It’s. Not. Your. Fault,” he bites out. “You need to go to a counselor. This is horrible shit.”
“I agree,” Darby whispers.
Ava nods in agreement. “He will not win this or own you any longer.”
“I hate my hair.”
Kip smooths a hand over my hair and Ava follows him.
“What do you want to do about it?” he asks.
“Let me shave your head.” Darby wipes the tears from her face. “It’s on my bucket list to shave a best friend’s head. Please!”
A light laughter fills the air, taking some of the heaviness from us.
“I like her hair.” Kip pulls me further into him and protecting me from the blades of a clipper.
“No clippers, Edward Scissorhands,” Ava spouts.
“You have to learn to love yourself.” Kip grabs a hip and twists me to face him. “Life has broken you. The cruel reality of a society so desperate for power and greed consumed your soul. Every single day, unfair things happen to innocent people all over the world.”
I swear I see tears form in his deep brown eyes, but they never spill over. He talks to me like Darby and Ava don’t even exist.
“If you live in the prison Zack has put you in then you’re there forever. The memories will never fade and the hurt will only multiply on a daily basis. You have to fight to right his wrongs. It’s so unfucking fair, but it’s the only way to survive.”
His large hand cups my cheek. I flinch for only a second and then relax into him.
“Fix your soul, Chloe; the world deserves it.”
Twelve
Chloe
“Kip,” I holler from the inside of the bathroom.
“Yo, dawg.”
He’s been light and funny all evening from my major meltdown earlier. I’m exhausted; actually, I think I’m two more minutes from all my major organs shutting down from exhaustion. I’ve never experienced a panic attack in all of my years and as the hot water was pouring down my back in the shower I couldn’t believe what had happened. Why didn’t my body ever experience one of those when with Zack? It’s like I accepted the fact I actually deserved the punishment.
“I need help.”
I blow my bangs out of my face as he opens the door.
“Sorry, I’m pathetic.” I tug the towel tighter around me.
“Do you know how some people train their dogs with shock collars?”
“Uh…”
“Well, I need to like pick my nose or scratch my balls every single time you put yourself down. You know, break you of the habit.”
“You’re weird. I didn’t put myself down.”
“You called yourself pathetic.”
“Well, I’m an adult who can’t dress herself because I have no energy to mambo into my clothes one handed and that’s pretty pathetic.” I place a triumphant hand on my hip, proving a point.
Kip places his pointer finger up a nostril, digging for gold to prove his point.
“Gross, stop.”
“Next time you put down yourself, I’ll pull one out.”
I gag and try to pretend like it’s a fake one, but it’s really not.
“A beautiful man like you shouldn’t be picking your nose to teach me a lesson.”
“I’m not teaching you a lesson, I’m helping a friend break a habit and I’m handsome, not beautiful.” He rolls his eyes for added effect before spinning on his heels to wash his hands.
“If you insist, but I’d prefer ball grabbing.” I waggle my eyebrows.
“Maybe for a treat.” He smiles. It’s not a pervy smile or I want in your panties smile, but a friendly and joking one. “What do we have going on here?”
He points up an down at my towel covered front.
“I tried really hard.”
“And you did awesome,” he finishes for me.
“Okay, Mr. Rogers, it’s a wonderful day in the neighborhood too.” I drop the towel from my body, not knowing how to explain the mess without putting myself down.
He covers the smirk on his face with his stretched palm.
“I’d ninja kick you if I wasn’t hobbled.”
He bends down without saying another word, slipping one of my legs from the tangled mess of panties. It’s not as easy putting them on exhausted, one armed, and did I say exhausted? I appreciate the fact Kip didn’t say anything else and instead bent down to help me out.
I place a hand on his shoulder to steady myself as I pick up one leg and wait for him to glide my panties back up. When he has them mid-thigh he leans back a bit, looking away, letting me wiggle them the rest of the way up.
He surprises me when he doesn’t rise to his feet immediately. I finally look down to see what he’s staring at. It’s the long scar on my outer thigh. Goosebumps race over my flesh when he runs the pad of his finger over it. I stare up at the ceiling, fighting back the threatening emotions.
His hot breath is on it and then his lips. Kip peppers every inch of the scar with his lips. My legs begin to shake nearly out of control. Both of his palms cup the backs of my legs. His lips pull back a bit and my scar burns. It actually fucking sears with pain the moment his lips are gone.
I sink down until I’m face to face with him. Kip falls back to his ass on the tile floor and brings me down to straddle his lap. I bury my head in the crook of his neck and cry again.
“K
eep touching me there,” I whisper between tears.
His fingers strum along the raised line and I feel the shredding pain begin to disappear.
“You make it feel better.”
He brushes my short hair over my shoulder with his other hand, leans down and kisses my cheek.
“Good.”
I’m not sure if it’s on purpose or not, but he then runs his hands through my hair. He plays with it like it’s his favorite thing in the world. I want to ask him if it’s another training tactic of his, but I don’t want to break this moment between us.
“Kip.”
He moans out a sort of yes.
“I can tell you were a really good cop. It was your voice and words talking me down today. Thank you.”
Thirteen
Chloe
The bed is warm and soft. I roll over and realize I must’ve fallen asleep in Kip’s arms on the bathroom floor. I stretch my legs and feel Boozer at the end of the bed. The alarm clock shining in the room lets me know it’s only four A.M. Kip’s sleeping face is barely visible by the stream of moonlight shining through the window.
He kept his hand draped over my side when I rolled over to him. I trace the worry lines on his sleeping face lightly with the pad of my finger. I reach over and kiss his chin. I’m so lost. It’s been only a few days here and I thought for some strange reason the past would just fade, but it hasn’t.
I’m broken, wandering an endless path of despair, but it’s him who is keeping me grounded. I want to float away and not feel anything. Reliving the past or even attempting to heal from it seems inevitably hopeless.
“Crackers?” he mumbles, not opening his eyes.
I giggle. “No.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Go back to sleep.”
“You first.” He pulls me into his chest and runs his hand through my hair.
I smile against his chest and only nod. It takes a few seconds for the rise and fall of his chest to coax me back to a deep sleep.