BREATHLESS

I was fucking lonely.

I was confined to these four walls that should have felt like a home. It always felt like the walls were closing in on me. My back felt as though I had been stoned and I was feeling the bruises form. As I laid on the ground, eyes staring at the ceiling, I felt a sense of distortion. Every day was another bitter, painful day to live.

The air in my lungs felt as though they were flowing a lot slower than the other times. My entire being felt physically and emotionally broken, inside and out. I knew if I moved even in the slightest, I would add another unwanted bruise to the collection. I didn’t think I could endure another beating.

Creaking echoes the house and the heavy footsteps of a once good man faded. The front door slammed harshly as a brief breeze of air, brushed my skin. The slight breeze was enough for me to get goosebumps. I felt so cold.

He had left for the night. Finally.

I regained steady breathing and blinked. I struggled to roll to my side. Everything hurt as usual and I was supposed to recuperate before he returned home. Getting up felt like a difficult task that required the help of another person. It shouldn’t be that difficult, yet it was. My body ached when I finally rolled over, hissing as I did so.

There forming bruise on my stomach and shoulders would be painful for the next few days. I used the little strength I had left to push my body up as though I was doing a sloppy push-up. I stayed still momentarily, allow my body to get somewhat comfortable. It was impossible as everything ached.

I reached over to grab the couch, slowing getting onto my feet. I held onto my stomach gently and limped to the guest room. My room was upstairs, however; there was no way I could make it up there without falling. My body was too weak to get that far. I had to rest before trying to do anything.

As my body found the softness of the bed, I closed my eyes. They were burning and felt drowsy. It was sooner than later that rivulets of tears fell down my cheeks. I turned my head and opened my eyes, looking out the window.

I had loved the outdoors so much. I had dreamed about traveling everywhere. I wanted to explore every forest I could and venture the beach blue oceans. Yet, I found I wouldn’t be able to do that again if I was living like this.

I had nine hours to myself before the terrorizer came back home. I would rest for a few hours before cooking. I desperately needed the rest, anyway. The beating he had given me had taken all of my energy, or at least what was left.

It wasn’t always like this. Skippy was once a kind and bright man. Everything deliberately changed as soon as his mother died. It was like Skippy didn’t know how to function without his mother. It was as though my love wasn’t enough for him. His mother was his everything. And when she was gone, so was the kind and bright man he used to be.

Skippy and I had been together for three years. The first two years of our relationship was steady with minor arguments here and there. It wasn’t until last year when he acted differently. His behavior shifted day by day, and his consumption of alcohol was worsening. I was foolish and told myself he was struggling to cope with his mother’s death, but even after a year, it didn’t get any better. It only got worse for me.

I tried to sympathize with Skippy because I had lost both parents right before graduation. The only person who I had left was my older sister, Jackie. For a while all I had was Jackie, then I met Skippy and things escalated and it was as though we both severed ties without another word. Jackie never bothered reaching out to me and I was too afraid to speak to her. We drifted apart for different reasons. Jackie always hated Skippy, and he couldn’t stand her presence. They would never get along. Now, I was alone.

With no one to call for help, it left me to fend for myself. Every day was another day of wondering if I would escape this hell of a madness I lived in. I wanted to be free again, but I was too scared of what Skippy would do if I ever left him.

The first time I tried to leave Skippy resulted in a fractured wrist. That was also the first time he ever hit me. I wanted to get out of the relationship because he was sulking and tearing me down. It was too much and I couldn’t take the mental abuse anymore. Jokes on me for trying to even leave him. That was my first sign but like any other person, I ignored it and forgave him.

He promised he wouldn’t do it again.

He lied.

I got played repeatedly, each time getting worst than the last. I’d cry myself to sleep or fall asleep with pain consuming my entire being. My nights would soon turn into sleepless ones and my days would become dark and depressing.

At some point, I stopped going to work because Skippy didn’t want me leaving. I tried leaving the house to go back to work, but that didn’t end well for me. I ended up with bruises all over my arms and legs. I got violated for the first time and it burned like Hell.

I didn’t think someone I allowed into my heart could hurt me so badly. The love I once had for Skippy dissipated like melting ice. All I felt now was bitterness and sadness when I looked at him.

My mother always told me the right one would come least expected. Skippy and I met by chance and I swore he was the one. My heart ached and longed for him like no other. Maybe I was the one who created a false image in my head only to be let down.

I tried calling the police once, but it backfired. The bruises that were once painted on my body were gone because they had healed. There were practically no signs of abuse on my body so Skippy never got in trouble for it. That same night, he punished me repeatedly. I think I blacked out.

It didn’t matter, anyway. Skippy eventually took away my phone and laptop leaving me with nothing. The doors of our house locked from the outside and it mortified me. I couldn’t even break the windows if I tried. He’d been one step ahead of me the whole time and I was forever trapped in this place.

“The Hell, Vincenz! Pick up the fuckin’ box and stop fuckin’ around,” a voice boomed. It was a powerful voice. I looked at the moving truck parked a crossed the street.

“You—” the same voice said. “Clean this fuckin’ mess before you’re done.”

I forced myself upright. We hadn’t had neighbors across the street for about two years. I limped over to the window and leaned against the windowsill. I saw a lot of men moving things in and out of the truck. The man who had been yelling had disappeared inside the house. I don’t know why I was even watching. I had nothing better to do with my life.

A figure emerged from the front door and the same man was holding a phone. His mouth was moving, and it showed he was probably tearing a new one to whoever he was speaking to. He had walked down the driveway towards the street. He was looking at the street as he spoke.

There was something about him that made me feel nervous. Maybe I was afraid of men and all I thought of was terrible things. I had to tell myself not all men were the same.

The way he stood so confidently made me think he was a man with wealth and power. His arms flexed and I could practically see muscle oozing from him. His hair was long, and it fell over his eye. He looked handsome; I thought. He slammed his phone on the ground and I gasped.

He turned and for a moment; I thought he had seen me. After all, my curtains were open, and I didn’t think twice about looking away. I couldn’t move as fast as I would like, but I moved to the side. I leaned against the wall and breathed slowly. I waited a few minutes before peering out the window. He was no longer there.

I went back into the bed and remained there. I didn’t even bother to clean up the blood on my face. I’m sure there’s dried blood on my cheeks and lip. It was too tender for me to touch and I honestly probably gotten used to the pain.

I sighed and fell asleep.

When I woke up, it was a little after seven. I had three hours to make something presentable for Skippy to eat. I was glad I had woken up before he got back home. I opted for cleaning myself and taking another shower.

By now, the blood was stuck to my skin and dried out. I felt like I had been in the shower for ages and that was enough to bring me back to reality. The steam from my shower fogged all the mirrors up. I wiped at the steam on the mirror. It was enough for me to see just how bad I had looked.

All that was there was a lifeless girl. My once bright brown eyes now lacked any joy. They were only dull and helpless. The dark circles or maybe bruise surround my eyes were clear. There was bruising on my right cheek and a bruise forming on the left of my forehead. The old bruise on my cheek looked like an ugly yellow. My battered skin didn’t look beautiful either. My lip was busted, and I ached to touch it, but the pain wasn’t worth feeling. I was nothing.

The longer I looked at myself, the more I hated myself. I felt tears forming in my eyes as I recalled the last beautiful memory I had of myself. I couldn’t even think of it. It had been so long.

I dismissed any other thought and dressed up. The last thing Skippy said to me was, “Be dressed to impress. You look like a whore.” I didn’t take his words personal anymore. I didn’t know why he wanted me dressing nicely either.

I had a feeling Skippy was inviting his colleagues over after work. I hated all his friends. They were so stupid and really believed I wasn’t getting my ass handed night after night. Some of them even had the nerve to joke about how abused I look. Skippy even went along with it sometimes. I had to sit and smile as though it was all fun and games.

The thing about Skippy and his friends were the outside work they did. Skippy sold drugs. It ranged from weed, heroin, to even cocaine. I had learned this a little after a year of dating him. It didn’t surprise me so much as he was big into smoking weed, anyway. I didn’t know how deeply he was in this selling business. Apparently, his cousin was the big distributor. He could get away with a lot.

Most nights, Skippy often returned home high as fuck. His eyes would be so low he could hardly see me. However, I had to admit, that was the most pleasant he ever was to be around. His inhibitions were so messed up he couldn’t hit me. It was only when he was sober or drunk as fuck he hit me.

I wasn’t sure what Skippy was expecting from me. I had some nice clothes, but they were all too revealing, apparently. I settled with a simple white dress. The dress had thin straps and part of it exposed my shoulders. It was a loose fit, and I felt like it was decent enough. It stopped short above my knees which was enough to hide the other bruises. The sleeves fit loosely at the end of my wrist which covered most of the scarring and bruises.

I did the usual and placed concealer over my bruises. I loved doing makeup. It was my passion, and I never thought I’d have to use it to cover my scars and bruises. I covered my bruises so well a person could never expect a damn thing. The only thing I couldn’t cover was the busted lip.

I entered the kitchen and made some chicken Alfredo. This was Skippy’s favorite thing to eat. He loved everything I cooked but Alfredo was his favorite.

I hummed old songs as I cooked. I haven’t heard actual music in over a year because I had been so sheltered in. I had my imagination to get me through the days.

“No garlic bread,” I muttered as I looked in the pantry.

I finished cooking and wanted to go out for garlic bread but Skippy remembered to lock the doors. He would walk through the doors at any minute now and I was hoping he was high. That would have meant I’d have a decent sleep and no worry of being hit.

The door came flying open and entered Skippy along with Eric and Hanson. They were laughing up a storm until they saw me. Hanson was staring at my fucked up mouth while Eric gave Skippy a questioning look.

Skippy narrowed his eyes. “What happened to your lip, babe?” he dared asked as though he wasn’t the one who didn’t cause this.

I feigned an embarrassed smile. “I opened the top cabinet and the pots and pan came falling out,” I lied easily. “Obviously, I didn’t move fast enough, and it hit my mouth,” I finished.

Hanson chuckled. “Those pots and pans really gave you a beating then.”

Eric shrugged. “As long as I don’t taste blood in my food,” he said.

“That’s what you’re thinking about?” Hanson asked, shaking his head.

I rolled my eyes at Eric. Their jokes were already starting as usual. Eric wasted no time heading to the table. Hanson at least had the decency to thank me. I met Skippy’s gaze and looked away after. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or not.

Skippy came toward me and lowered his lips to my ear. “I’m sorry for earlier. I shouldn’t have done what I did.”

It was always like this. Skippy would try to apologize for his fucked up behavior and I go along with it and say everything was okay. I nodded this time and gestured for the table. He went first, and I followed quietly.

“Damn, my favorite, Carter.” Skippy beamed at his friends. “I love you, you know?” he asked.

I nodded and smiled at him. “I know you do.”

Skippy leaned over and placed a cold kiss against my lips. The kiss held nothing for me. All I felt was hatred and bitterness from his kiss. He lingered longer than usual but I did nothing else. I pulled away and ate the food. Skippy had glanced at me a few times. I kept my head down never once looking at him.

“What do you do all day, Carter? You stay in this house all day,” Hanson questioned.

I took a sip of the water. “I read and sleep. I keep the house clean. I cook,” I said.

“Translation — she’s a housewife,” Eric said and laughed. “Skippy brings in the big bucks. You’re lucky Skip has all this money. You don’t gotta ever work, girl.”

“Do you like not working?” Hanson asked.

I hesitated on answering but Skippy beat me to it as usual. “She stays home because she’s pregnant.”

I almost choked on the water I was drinking. Skippy placed his hands over mine and the hold tightened but not enough to hurt me. I licked my lips and felt my blood boil.

I was not pregnant. Skippy knew I was on birth control. I was due for removal sometime within the next four months. My implant only lasted for three years. There was no way I was having his baby. I would never want to give this bastard a baby.

“Oh, shit! Congrats, Skip!” Eric says as he raises his beer bottle. “How far are you?” he asks, looking at me.

I gulp. “I found out today. I’m not too far along yet,” I lied.

Hanson grins. “What do you want, Carter?”

I thought for a moment. I wasn’t actually pregnant, so it never occurred to me what gender I wanted. I never wanted kids after Skippy. I guess if I ever got out of this life, I’d want a son. I wouldn’t let my son lay a damn hand on a woman.

“I want a boy,” I whispered.

Skippy rubbed my hand. “I’m happy with either. You’re never leaving me now,” he finished.

Something about his statement made me squirm. I excused myself to go get more water. I heard the chair move, and I didn’t bother looking back. I knew Skippy followed me.

“Carter,” Skippy said in a firm tone. I stopped mid-stride.

I turned to look at him. “Skippy, I’m not pregnant. What are you doing?” I asked quietly. I kept my voice as quiet and leveled as possible. The last thing I wanted was for him to be angry.

“So you want a baby. I can give you a baby,” he said ignoring everything. “We’ll start tonight. I’m taking that implant out.”

I gasped, mortified at his words. “Skippy, you can’t do that. It comes out in four months.”

“What the Hell is wrong with you, Carter? I’ve given you everything,” he says stepping closer. “You want a baby. I’ll give you that.”

“I’m not letting you cut me open to take out this implant. Don’t you think you’ve hurt me enough?” I snapped. I was unaware of my feelings taking over.

Skippy fumes and he advances forward, grabbing me by the neck. “Who the fuck are you talking to? I’m not the one, Carter.” His hand tightened slightly more, and I grabbed his hand. His hold was impossibly uncomfortable.

“Don’t be fucking stupid.” He released my neck, and I gasped. “Tonight, Carter.”

“Skippy! Don’t tell me you’re trying to give Carter another baby!” Eric shouted.

Skippy rolled his eyes. “Mind your business, hijo de puta!” he shouted back.

“You’re the son of a bitch. Unlike you, he doesn’t beat his wife,” I blurted. I didn’t say it loud enough for anyone to hear, but it still irritated Skippy.

“You ask for it,” he replied. He grabbed my hair, and I winced. It was a hard yank which forced me to look up at him. “You should be grateful I provide for you, puta. Unlike your ungrateful sister, I didn’t leave your ass to die. She left, not me. It would do you well to remember that.”

His words hurt.

I missed my sister so much. I always told myself she didn’t leave me purposely. The way we ended hurt me and I couldn’t understand why it was still hurting me. Skippy hit a sore spot. His words hurt more than the physical things he’d done.

“You got nothing else to say, huh?”

With that, he released my hair, and I immediately rubbed my scalp. I even ran my fingers over my neck. I didn’t think I would have bruises on my neck but I’d have to check for it, regardless. I couldn’t go out looking like Skippy just beat me. I quickly went into the bathroom and the mirror only showed a miserable woman. He left no marks this time.

I went back into the dining room where the men were casually chatting. I made sure I brought them more beers. It wasn’t like they needed anymore but I couldn’t have Skippy hurting me because I didn’t serve him a cold one.

“You look stressed, Carter. It’s not good for the baby,” Hanson says. “When Trisha was pregnant, she had to be stress-free. It impacted our baby.”

What the Hell did his wife have to be stress about?

I was over here wondering when I would die. With how Skippy was spiraling, it would be sooner than later. I had spoken back to him for the first time in a long time. It felt exhilarating yet frightening all at once. I couldn’t say I regretted it though.

“Got any names? Eric and Erica sound good too me if you’re thinking for some,” Eric commented with a cheeky smile.

“Those are ugly names,” Skippy retorted. “Babe, get the dishes, will you? I need to discuss business with the boys,” he said looking at me. His eyes were daring me to speak back, but I didn’t.

“Yeah, let me do that,” I mumbled.

Eric and Hanson noticed nothing awkward about the exchange between Skippy and I. Carrying the plates and glasses alone was a challenge not that these fools cared. I went into the kitchen with full arms and cleaned the dishes.

All I could think about was another way to escape this place called home. I wasn’t even sure what I’d do when I finally got out of here. I had no one to go to either. There were nothing and no one waiting for me beyond those doors.

“Another beer, Carter!” Skippy shouted.

“Coming,” I called back. I grabbed another beer for him and rushed into the dining room. All the men look stressed.

Eric spoke first, “His son is the new main distributor. He gets the big bucks. Your cousin is meeting him when?”

Hanson rubbed his chin. “I heard he puts a bullet through your head when you don’t follow through. He’s extreme.”

Drugs. Dealers. Illegal shit. That’s what they were talking about. When Skippy wasn’t at the office fucking his assistant, he was out seeking people to sell his drugs. Skippy thought he was so good at selling. I mean, that was a part of his income.

I always wished Skippy would stop the selling. It wasn’t a good business to be in. Messing with the wrong person or selling to the wrong person could cost him his entire life. Back then, I would’ve begged for him to stop, but now, I didn’t give a shit if he got caught. I wanted him to be contained and taken far away. I dreamed of the day someone came over and told me someone would put Skippy in jail for his illegal activities. The day had yet to come.

“Lux is your new neighbor. You’ll be seeing the fucker every day,” Eric mentioned.

“Babe, you can go to bed without me. I’ll meet you there,” Skippy said. His voice left no room for argument.

As usual, I nodded my head, and I bid everyone a farewell. They didn’t know Skippy, and I never shared the same bed. Sometimes, Skippy would come into my room all intoxicated or high. Those were the rare days he’d sleep with me. I hated it so much. The stench of drugs and booze stuck to his skin.

I sighed as I entered my room. “God give me a sign. I’m tired.”

I wiped off my makeup and washed my face. I didn’t remove my dress in case one idiot called me back down. I went over to the window and saw a car pulling into the driveway. My new neighbor seemed to be on some kind of date. A woman was latched to his arm, and they appeared to be in a deep conversation. I watched them walk into the house.

I remembered having a peaceful relationship. I remembered the sweet, cold nights where Skippy would bring me home. I would let him stay with me and he would sneak out when my sister came back home. Those were the good days.

I laid in the bed as thoughts ran through my mind endlessly. There were so many what ifs and what could have been. I had wished I could take myself out of this cold, harsh life.

“Carter, where the fuck are you!” Skippy shouted.

But I know now it will never happen.