…
It was too dark. Too many shadows, too many places to hide. Ella slowly spun around the dark room. He could be anywhere. A creaking noise came from behind her. Heart in her throat, she whirled around. More endless darkness. Strong fingers wove into her hair and yanked back hard. She cried out at the sharp pain, seconds before her face slammed into the wall. White stars swam before her eyes. Unable to stand, she slid down the wall to her knees. She touched her face. Sticky wetness coated her fingertips. Her mind was numb. She couldn’t make sense of what was happening, couldn’t process thought. A kick to her stomach sent her all the way to the floor, onto her side. She cowered against the wall, arm shielding her face from the relentless punches that followed.
“Stop,” she begged, barely above a whisper. “Please stop.”
The dark mass lowered until his face was right before her. The stench of beer invaded her nose as the madness in his eyes terrified her even more.
“If you tell anyone, I’ll fucking kill you.”
Ella jackknifed up on the couch, taking in ragged, anxious breaths as her gaze ricocheted around the living room. The nightmare slowly faded and her surroundings registered. She wasn’t in Maine. She wasn’t in a dark room. She was in Kansas, over a thousand miles away. She flopped back against the cushions and covered her sweaty forehead with her arm.
Damn it. Until two weeks ago, it’d been a long time since she’d woken up covered in sweat from a nightmare. Now they seemed to be a regular occurrence. All it had taken was being informed Randy was about to be released back into the wild like the animal he was.
She lay there for a few minutes, trying to slow her racing heart. The quiet of the house was unnerving, suffocating. She needed to talk to someone, needed to feel connected and not so alone. She reached for her cell phone on the coffee table then dialed her best friend.
The phone rang one time before Brooke answered. “Ella?”
She closed her eyes at the familiar voice. Longing to be back home, to be living her life, almost overwhelmed her.
“It’s me.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just missing you.”
“I miss you, too.”
“So…” She hedged, knowing that today was the day, but uncertain if something may have happened that had stalled it.
A long silence passed before Brooke sighed and said, “He was released today.”
A cold lump formed in Ella’s stomach, causing her belly to churn and unpleasant tingles to erupt over her body. Her vision tunneled and she closed her eyes, taking small breaths to calm the panic. When she had herself level again, she said, “Seems unfair, doesn’t it?”
“What does, hon?”
“He’s walking free and I’m—” Her voice cracked, and she clamped her teeth together. She waited a moment to make sure she had her composure back then added, “Hiding. How did I resort to this, Brooke?”
“Oh, Ella. I can’t even begin to imagine what’s going on in your head, and I respect you too much to even try.”
“The moment I learned he was getting released, all the terror I thought I’d gotten past came rushing back. I don’t feel safe anymore. I’m scared shitless that he’s going to hunt me down now that he’s out, and finish what he started. He told me he would. Told me if I ratted on him, he’d make me pay. That’s all I can focus on—the possibility he could hurt me again. And it makes me so angry, Brooke.” Hot tears burned the back of her eyes as she fisted her hands and forced out, “And so goddamn scared.”
A sob rushed out of her mouth, and she pressed her hand to her lips, trying to keep more from escaping and failing.
“God, Ella, I wish I could hug you right now,” her friend whispered.
“I-I just want my l-life back. I miss the hospital. I miss you, my home, m-my ladies.” She scrubbed her face with her palm and took a deep breath. “What kind of example am I setting for the center?”
She’d been volunteering at Healing Hands Women’s shelter for a couple of years. The women who walked through those doors were trying to find a safe haven to escape their abuser. They were at the beginning of their journey. Ella had been far into hers, had picked up the pieces of her life, and had been living proof that a person could start over. And what had she done the moment she was faced with the fact that her abuser was back on the streets? She’d run.
“There isn’t a woman there who doesn’t understand,” Brooke said.
This was true, but it didn’t relieve the disappointment she felt in herself.
“I feel like I’ve let them down by letting my fear take over. I have to get past this, find my way back home, so I can face them.” She paused for a moment. “Have you…”
She couldn’t finish the question, but thankfully Brooke knew what she was talking about.