Where the Heart Lies

by Amanda Ray

  "If I ever catch you trying to talk to another man again, I'll kill him. And then, I'll kill you." He slowly dropped me so that my feet could touch the ground, my hands were gripping and scratching at his big, scrawny hand around my throat, trying every attempt to break his hold on me, "What makes you think any other man would want to have you? After what I've seen you do in bed? The way you dress? The way you act? Getting drunk every night of the week, working at a dance club. You think other men like that? You're a disgusting whore, Freya, and you're lucky that I allow you to act this way. That I put up with this shit! Other men would have left you already. But not me." he loosened his grip so that I could breathe. Gasping for air, my eyes were red in the reflection of his and stinging with tears. Kennedy started to brush his hands through my hair, "I'm sorry I lost my temper on you like that, but you have to understand... When you do shit like that, when you talk to other men behind my back, it makes me see red. You're mine, Freya and no one, especially another man, is going to take what's mine."

  ◆◆◆

  I look around the room and see nothing but sorrow. Tears fall down cheeks and breathing becomes shallow on some of the women who sit before me. All of these women have been through similar situations, if not worse, but every time someone tells their story, you feel it inside of you. Like a piece of you was right there with them. Like a part of you went through it and felt every hit, every word, every sting of pain. I take another deep breath, "That was the first time Kennedy ever put his hands on me. And it wasn’t the last." I look at our group leader Lauren, she gives me a small smile and a nod telling me to continue. "I stayed with him for eight more months after that."

  "Was it just the same?" A girl in the back asks.

  "Pretty much,” I say nodding, "for that whole year it was nothing but me going through the motions. Drinking, sleeping with Kennedy whenever he wanted and then if I made the slightest mistake. If I said something in the wrong tone of voice, or smiled too much at a guy in the club or something that just pissed him off, he would hit me. And sometimes I would wish he would hit me because the things he would say to me made me feel worse. The physical cuts and bruises can heal but sometimes the words, the things that hit you mentally, can’t be healed. Or at least, it takes a lot longer for them to heal."

  "Yeah. I know what that's like," Teresa chimes in, "like all the little put downs just build and build. They're like little cuts-paper cuts- that just keep getting deeper and deeper until they're hitting your bones and before you know it, they become a piece of you. A second skin. That's how you view yourself. Every single nasty word, every bad thing they've ever called you or said about you, is how you see yourself."

  I nod my head understanding exactly what she means. When someone puts you down enough times, you start to believe that it's true and no matter how many times other people tell you otherwise, there's still that voice in your head. The one that says you're not good enough. That everything they’ve ever said about you is the truth and that you’re just lying to yourself.

  "So what happened with Jesse? Did he find out what happened?" Denise asks leaning forward, elbows on her knees, anxious for my response. "After Kennedy shattered my phone, I never responded to Jesse's initial text. I didn't want to take the risk of Kennedy getting angry with me again, so I just ignored Jesse's text messages and phone calls when I could." Sorrow fills my heart and I bite my lip to steady my trembling chin and keep from crying but also to keep from saying too much. I hate myself for allowing someone to have so much control over me, even now. For taking advantage of me and pressuring me to lose the only good person I had left in my life. For making me nervous to reveal certain truths for the fear of being judged.

  "We do what we have to in order to survive,” Lauren recounts, "Don't look back and think of all the things you could have or should have done. You did what you could. What you had to in the moment, at that time in your life. You can only go based on the information you are given at that point in time." As if reading my mind she continues, "You...none of you...can look back at your past now and wonder what you could or should have changed. You can't say that you should have done this or that. You didn't have all of the information you do now and you can't fault yourselves for that. You did the best you could, in the circumstances you were in, given the information you had at the time. The only thing you can do now is love yourselves and move forward with your lives. You are not at fault. Forgive yourselves for not knowing what you know now. There's no way you could have known. Forgive yourself.” And with that we all nod our heads. Some wiping away the stray tears running down their cheeks.

  Lauren looks at me and nods giving me the go ahead to continue. "Jesse texted me one day saying 'I got the hint, just know I'll always be here for you' and other than the occasional birthday or holiday text, I haven't really seen him in a few years." Gasps fill the room. "Years?" Teresa squeals and I look around the room to see horrified looks about my confession. It saddens me that these girls feel Jesse's loss in my life as much as I do and they don't even know him. If they only knew the whole truth. God, I think they would all fall out of their chairs and try to hunt him down themselves.

  I nod my head clarifying that what I said is true. "So wait," Rebecca asks, shaking her head in confusion, "What made you finally gather enough strength to leave Kennedy? That is what happened, right? You left him?" I smile and let out a sigh, "I did. I left him. About a little after a year of our relationship."

  "What made you do it?" Denise asks the same question I neglected to answer from Rebecca. I look around the room at the girls and I attempt a shaky smile. My nerves starting to get the better of me.

  "Something lit a fire under my ass. Made me realize that I didn't want to be treated that way anymore and that I needed to love myself more. I needed to get out before something worse happened. Before he killed me." I inhaled a deep breath and then exhaled, "I got pregnant."

  Chapter 30

  Gasps fill the room and mouths fall open, nearly hitting the floor at my revelation and I smile shyly. Most of the women here haven't mentioned having children in our sessions, but by the way they unconsciously grab their stomachs at my words, it's not too far off that most of them, if not all, have felt life in their wombs at one point. Or at least can empathize with my story.

  I shake my head on a small breath, already bracing myself for the new girl's wary question. She looks at me, tears brimming in her eyes, her tight grip on her stomach, protective. I know that grip. I've had that grip. "How did you get out? Did you keep the baby?" she asks tentatively.

  More gasps fill the room and eyes shoot over to her at her intrusive question. But it's not intrusive at all. That's what we're here for. To help each other. I smile at her softly, knowingly. She's pregnant now and doesn't want anyone here to know or hasn't told anyone else, yet. I unconsciously stroke my stomach, the memory of my once growing baby and the protectiveness coming through. Another deep breath fills my lungs and I nod, "Yeah. I kept her,” a sigh of relief leaves the new girl's mouth but there's still worry in the room, until I break through everyone'ssilence. " And she's the most beautiful little girl I've ever seen. She's my light in the darkness. She not only helped save me but she showed me what love really is. Truly is. She helped me in ways she'll never know but oh man, that little girl is the best thing that's ever happened to me." My love for my daughter shines through and happy tears start to stream down my face. As I wipe them away lightly and look up, I'm graced with smiles so bright it proves to me, even more, that my decisions that got me here were the best decisions I could have made.

  "How old is she now? Does she have any contact with him?" The last word is full of spite, being spit out in distaste and anger. I recognize the hatred tone. I shake my head, "My daughter's three now but no she has absolutely no contact with her biological father. He does know about her though, and that's a burden all on it's own. A weight that I’ll always have to carry." I clench my fists tightly, thinking back to the day I found out I was pregnan
t.

  ◆◆◆

  It was right after my twenty- third birthday and Kennedy and I had been arguing more and more. He had been disappearing more but when I did see him, he was more aggressive, violent, evil. I had tried my hardest to keep him happy and tried to keep the fighting to a minimum. I even went to the extremes of getting a second phone, that he thankfully knew nothing about. In it was the only number I had memorized, the only number that was important....Jesse's. I had texted Jesse a few times, always managing to avoid answering questions on how things were going with Kennedy, but I'd be lying if I said he didn't know. Jesse kept me sane. He kept me grounded, and to this day I will forever be grateful for him.

  I hadn't been feeling well for a few weeks and with Kennedy's disappearing act I called Jesse for comfort. His warm voice had filled my ears and his insistence on me going to the doctor fueled me to get off my lazy bum and finally go. I waited patiently in the waiting room, my legs were shaking with nerves and my fingers twitched on my phone.

  What if they tell me something is horribly wrong? I had anxiously texted Jesse, my nerves were still on high alert, getting the better of me and my twitching leg.

  Nothing is wrong, flower. And IF it is. IF. Then I will be there for you, Freya. Always.

  His comforting words had made me smile so wide that when the nurse called my name, her look of confusion made me giggle. She must have thought how odd I was to be so excited about a doctor's appointment. After the typical blood pressure and weighing, the nurse asked me a few questions before placing me in an exam room.

  "What's the reason for the appointment, dear?" the elderly woman in Winnie the Pooh scrubs had asked me, keeping her eyes focused on the computer screen in front of her. "I haven't been feeling well lately." I claimed matter of factly. "Symptoms?" her tone was warm and inquisitive but her eye contact was severely lacking. "Nausea, some dizziness, and fatigue." I had started rubbing circles around my queasy tummy, feeling the slight need to run to the bathroom and vomit up the little bit of soup I ate earlier that day. "When was the last day of your cycle, dear?" her question threw me off kilter and it was a few silent moments before she looked over at me. My face was white and I turned sheepishly to look at her before I shrugged my shoulders, unable to remember the date of my last cycle. She leaned over and handed me a clear cup container, nodding toward the bathroom, "Take this, deary. We'll test your urine and the doctor will meet you in exam room three with the results.” I nodded my head and hesitantly left the chair, walking like a zombie to the restrooms. Pregnant? There's no way! I've been so careful. There's no way.

  After what felt like a lifetime, the doctor came in to greet me in the exam room. He nodded at me and smiled, "So it looks like congratulations are in order.” I felt the blood drain from my face, "I'm sorry, what?" The confusion on my face wasn’t apparent to him because his back was now facing me as he went through my chart and lowered himself into his rolling chair. "I didn't know you were trying, Freya, but now that we know that you guys are pregnant we can get you on prenatal vitamins and schedule you for routine blood work if you'd like to keep the fetus. If you'd choose to go another route, we have plenty of information packets in the lobby that you can do some research on. If you choose." I shook my head and gripped my stomach protectively, "No! I'm keeping the baby." The words tumbled out of my mouth before I even realized what I'd said. They were true nonetheless. The doctor smiled again at me and nodded before drowning me with information overload.

  On my way to fill my prescription for the vitamins a familiar figure had grabbed my attention. Kennedy. Getting into his car. With a woman. A usual from the club we worked at. I watched as the two got in the car but stayed parked with the car turned off. His car was parked in an alley, secluded from the hustle and bustle of people and with a tightness in my chest I slowly made my way closer. Inching my way to the alley my breath caught at the sight of the steam on the car windows. My vision was blurred by the foggy windows but the image of what was transpiring was as clear as day. The moans were heard loud and clear. My head shook in disbelief and my legs started on their own accord, taking me away from the unwanted scene.

  Tears began to flow down my face. The heightened emotions from the pregnancy had gotten the better of me and my hand instinctively grabbed at the baby growing inside my tummy. Instead of going straight to the pharmacy my legs led me back to my empty apartment. It was times like that that made me wish Anna still lived with me. I made my way to the fridge, grabbed a water and then slowly made my way to the couch to plop down. The second I did I pulled out my secret phone to text Jesse.

  Not dying.

  Told you! :) What'd they say?

  As I was about to text him back the front door swung open and I heard Kennedy's heavy steps. My heart began to race and I pushed further into the couch, trying my hardest to hide. I looked down at my secret phone and then to my growing stomach. The sadness and the fear inside of me, turned to anger and I flew up from the couch stomping over to his lengthy body. "I know where you've been! I know what you've been doing! You're disgusting! And I want nothing to do with you!" The fear I once had was now gone. The anger and protectiveness pushed through every other emotion.

  "Yeah? And? You’ll deal with it stupid. You want to know why?" He didn’t wait for my response, “because no one else will ever want you. You’re pathetic and disgusting. A sorry excuse for a woman. Why do you think no one wants to be around you, Freya. Everyone else is better off dead than being with or around you. You think someone else will take you? Will want to deal with your psycho shit? Good luck with that! So what if I step out a few times? Just be lucky I get my shit elsewhere instead of trying to force you for not giving me what I want. You don’t do enough, Freya. You’re not enough and that’s not my fault.” His unbothered tone fueled the anger inside of me even more and I lunged forward.

  I pushed at his body and made him stagger backwards. "I want you out! I want you gone! Fuck you, Kennedy!" I punched at his chest. He seized my arms and began pushing me backwards toward the wall. "I'm not going anywhere girl. And neither are you. As long as I want you, I'll have you."

  "Well, I don't want you! I don't want you near me or around my baby! Get the fuck out!" It took me a few moments before I realized what I’d said and my shocked gasp was just as loud as his. I had no intention of telling him. No intention of ever letting him know. I didn't even think about if or how I was going to tell him, I just wanted to protect my unborn child but it was too late. And because of my stupidity I had unconsciously spit out the words and couldn’t take them back. "Excuse me!" Kennedy's voice echoed off the walls and I staggered backward, hitting the wall, when he released me. The anger that I was feeling had been repacked with fear but it wasn’t fear for me, it was fear for my baby.

  His hands gripped and pulled at his hair in pure fury. My chest tightened and my hands hit the back of the wall, looking for something to hold on to. I knew what was coming and I tried bracing myself. A moment later I was thrown on the floor. My hand cupped my face from the sting of his fist. The breath in my lungs vanished and I could see nothing but the blurry tears in my eyes.

  The pain that ripped through me was almost unbearable. My arms protectively wrapped around my waist shielding my unborn child from the blows of Kennedy's solid, sharp kicks. With each thundering swing of his leg he revealed more and more truths.

  "This will ruin my life!"

  Kick

  "My wife can never find out about this!"

  Kick

  "You stupid bitch! How could you get pregnant!"

  Kick

  "No one will ever know! You're just a useless little slut!"

  Kick

  “Not my wife! Not my side bitches! Not people from work! No one will know! You’ll get rid of it!”

  Kick

  "No one will ever want you! You disgusting piece of trash!"

  Kick

  "I'll kill you and it before you ruin my life!"

  And with that last statemen
t he gave me a final kick to the face. Blood poured out of my mouth, my nose, everywhere and anywhere. From place's I didn't even know could bleed. I curled up into an even tighter ball and gripped my stomach harder. Praying. Wishing. Hoping. He had looked down at me and spit, his saliva dripped down my cheek while he stomped to the door before slamming it behind him.

  Kennedy was right about one thing. He did kill me. A part of me, anyway. The part that was so lost, so willing to let his actions slide. The part that took over when Lily died. But that part died as the blood started to pool around me. He killed that part of me but a voice in my head told me that I wasn't dead. That I needed to get up and get out. That I needed to protect something other than myself. The baby inside of me. And that's just what I did. I pulled the strength from nowhere and dragged my fragile, broken body out of the door, grabbing nothing but my wallet and my phone with one number in it.

  Jesse's.

  Chapter 31

  Jesse's face was painted with rage, fury and pure terror. His eyes were filled with worry and sadness when he hastily made his way over to me at the little table. When I had called him after escaping, he instinctively knew something was wrong by the sound of my voice. Luckily he was in town on business in New York that day and didn’t hesitate to met me at a little coffee shop an hour after I had called him.

  "God, Freya. What the fuck did he do to you?" His hands gently traced the cuts on my face. And to think, if he had only seen me when I had first arrived at the cafe that day, before I went to the bathroom to clean up and attempt to make myself presentable. Gratefully the coffee house had been pretty dead, so other than the two baristas at the register, no one seemed too concerned about the bruised and bloody girl who took up the table in the back.