“I saw you six months ago, Brooke. That’s when we discovered this little one was coming. You were here six months ago.” She rubbed my arm, but I pulled away.
“No, I wasn’t. I was on the other side of the country. He showed up and hurt me. He brought me back. Why doesn’t anyone believe this?” The beeping on the machines began to speed up.
“You need to calm down. This isn’t good for the baby,” Dr. McGee soothed.
“I can’t calm down. Nobody believes me.” I began gasping for air. The room seemed to shrink, and as my eyes scanned the area, he showed up.
“Everything ok?” Warren stepped into the room, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Fine.” I kept my answer short. I didn’t need to give him any ammunition for convincing the doctors to lock me in the looney bin.
“I just need to measure her stomach, then I’ll be all finished.” Dr. McGee smiled, but I could tell she was trying to hide my outburst. She removed a soft tape measure from her lab coat pocket, and stretched it across my stomach. “Everything looks great. I’ll be back by to check on you before you’re discharged but I expect to see you in my office next month.”
“I’ll make sure she gets there.” Warren smiled but I could tell it was forced. I watched Dr. McGee leave, and Warren take over the chair she was sitting in. He didn’t say anything at first, just scooted impossibly close. “I see what you’re doing,” he whispered in my ear. “You’re hoping one of them will save you. I don’t know how many times I have to show you that I’m in charge,” he growled. “This thing lived because I let it.” He placed his hand on my stomach, causing me to flinch. “Whether it does next time depends on you.” He leaned back and crossed his arms. “Like the flowers?” He lifted his chin and smiled. To anyone walking by, he would appear to be the loving husband. He played the role well, but I knew better. Warren was the nightmare that I couldn’t seem to escape from no matter how hard I tried. I thought I’d put all of this behind me, but now I’m beginning to wonder if any of it was real.
Chapter 2
Brooke
The next five days went faster than I would have liked. Dr. Douglas was satisfied with my progress, so I was given the ok to leave. Fear gripped me when Warren was handed my discharge papers.
He’d shown up that morning, playing the role of loving husband. He’d pretty much demanded that I be released. Since my care was manageable, the doctors ok’d it. A nurse wheeled me down to the drop-off door where Warren was waiting with his car.
He smiled as he opened the door and I slowly lowered myself inside. After buckling up, he jogged around to his door and climbed in. I waved to the orderly as he rolled the wheelchair away, and swallowed the lump in my throat as the hospital disappeared in the distance. This was it. I was on my own again. My days would be determined by Warren’s moods. My life would be propelled by fear.
We didn’t speak the entire drive home. I was afraid of the response I’d get, and didn’t want to upset him. I was still recovering, and couldn’t really defend myself. As we pulled into the driveway, I saw a bag on the porch by the door. “Damn neighbors need to butt out,” Warren grumbled as he climbed out of the car and slammed the door. I sat there hoping that he’d come around and help me, but he continued to walk toward the door. “You coming?” He threw his arms in the air as he looked at me from the steps.
Guess this was it. We weren’t somewhere where he needed to put on a show, so I was back to doing it all for myself. I slowly pushed the door open. My side ached where my cracked ribs were. I swung my legs out, and used the seat to push myself to a standing position. I shuffled along until I reached the steps. Using the handrail, I climbed the steps achingly slow. “What’s that?” I motioned to the bag that was sitting by the door.
Warren rolled his eyes. “The neighbors have been dropping off food for you. I guess they think you can’t cook now.”
“That was nice,” I whispered.
“It’s nosy,” he grumbled as he lifted the bag and carried it inside. “There’s all kinds of crap that they’ve brought over the last few days. Guess you’re off the hook for a little while. Good for you, I guess.” He shook his head as he unlocked the door, and went inside.
I stood there on the porch just letting the words sink in. Good for me? Did he really expect me to go on like nothing happened? I’ve been hospitalized for almost three weeks. Did that mean nothing? How could I have ever loved this man?
I sighed as I came inside the living room. There were newspapers scattered on the floor. A lamp was knocked over, and a hole in the wall next to the kitchen door glared back at me. “I got work to do.” Warren waved his arm in the air as he stormed off toward his office. “Clean some of this mess up.”
I blinked as I looked around in disbelief. It was a disaster zone everywhere I could see. I wandered toward the stairs only to see more destruction. A few books lay cluttered on the landing, another hole in the sheetrock, a spindle was missing on the railing, and a small puddle of dried blood was on the carpet at the base of the stairs. It looked like a crime scene, and for anyone who didn’t live here it would be shocking. The sad thing was, this wasn’t anything abnormal for me.
I knew that Warren had left this mess as a reminder. He wanted me to know that what happened was my fault, and he was in charge. I carefully climbed the stairs, placed my things in our room, and then went to the bathroom to grab cleaning supplies. Any other person would have laid down to rest, but I wasn’t afforded that luxury. If I didn’t do as I was told, he’d do it again. I wasn’t sure how many more times I’d survive this, and based on what he said in the hospital… he’d make sure our daughter didn’t.
oooooooo
It took me most of the afternoon to clean the living room and stairs up. I was constantly taking breaks to catch my breath. Too much exertion made me light headed, and my ribs ached every time I bent over. I couldn’t repair the hole in the wall or the broken spindle, so those were left for Warren.
When I finally finished, I crept up the stairs to put away the cleaning supplies. Moments after I put the bucket in the bathroom, I heard the office door creak open. I sighed as I waited for what I knew was coming. I shuffled into the bedroom, and sat on the edge of the bed. I was exhausted, and just wanted to rest.
“Brooke!” Warren’s voice echoed through the house. “I’m hungry. Come heat up something for dinner.” I knew that if I didn’t follow his commands, he’d be up here dragging me downstairs. The good news was I didn’t have to actually cook anything. The neighbors had been a blessing in that aspect.
“Just a moment,” I called out as loud as I could. It hurt to move. It hurt to yell. My head throbbed in protest as I stood and made my way to the stairs. I stood there at the top, just staring at them. I willed myself to remember what happened, but it was no use. No amount of pressure was going to help. Dr. Douglas had said that I might never get my memory back. In some ways, I hope he was right. I have enough nightmares from Warren to last me a lifetime. I don’t need more.
When I reached the kitchen, Warren was sitting at the breakfast nook with his arms folded on the table. “Bout time,” he grumbled as I opened the refrigerator. There had to be at least ten containers stacked on the shelves. “What would you like?” I turned to face him, and waited for an answer.