I watch the woman my brothers tell me I loved. The One. That’s what my journal tells me. Lillian Blackwood is my one. The problem is I can’t remember her. Not a single thing. All the descriptions I wrote about her don’t do her justice. Even while I watch her breakdown. While I watch my brother comforts her, over a dog named Benny. She’s still incredibly beautiful. “Are you willing to let that go?” Dylan asks as he watches the commotion in front of us. “I can’t let go of something I didn’t know I had.” I shrug and walk outside. The house is beautiful. I’m told it’s her mother’s or was. “You need to think about this.” Dylan pulls the ring from his pocket. “You commissioned this piece, Lucas. That’s how serious you are,” he shakes his head, “Were about Lily. She’s a wonderful woman, and she is going through a lot right now. Decide.” He storms off back inside. I take in the view of this beautiful piece of land. It’s just as I described in my journal. Decisions…. Stay or leave?
*****WARNING******* This book may cause triggers and contain mature domestic violence themes, flashbacks of sexual, physical and emotional abuse, and medical trauma. This story may not be for you. ******************** Perseverance is more prevailing than violence; and many things
Four years earlier, the escape Lately, I’ve been looking at myself in the mirror and I wonder who is that young woman looking back at me. What happened to her? There’s a glazed look in her eyes and tiredness and yet she is alert all at the same time. She appears to be sad and depressed when he isn’t here. With a sigh, I plaster on a smile. Dean loves you; it’s going to a good day. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that”, the woman in the mirror smirks at me, “It may be a different day, but it’ll end the same as every other day, and it’s your fault” she points her finger at me, blaming me. I look away from the mirror. I can’t stand the bitch telling me how stupid I am; I know it’s my fault. I don’t need her to point it out. I should have cooked something different. Maybe that would have made a difference. Last night was a bad one. I’m surprised I can even walk straight with what he did to me last night. I feel so damn
The memories of last night overwhelm me. Things should have been perfect and yet. I turn the oven on low to keep our dinner warm. I look around for anything else I might have missed. I have put the laundry away and dressed nice, neat, and clean to Dean’s liking, but still, I feel like I’ve missed something. I fidget on the spot; this red piece of lingerie he wanted me to wear is entirely impractical—the slightest movement and the tiny string bites into the crest of my arse. But if I want to have a good night, a peaceful night, I must follow Dean’s every command. I don’t think my body can take another night of abuse like last night; I’m still very sore. I start to fidget again, I want to make him happy I do, but sex with Dean isn’t like it used to be. Ha! Used to be, I don’t think he has ever been gentle. I bite my lip nervously, “Everything is going to be okay”, I whisper to myself.
Present Day “I will hunt you down”, he breathes in my ear. “I will hunt you, like the fucking pig that you are.” He snarls, “I will kill you and your family if you ever leave me.” “I-I promise, I won’t leave. I don’t want to leave Dean. Please!” I beg him. I wholeheartedly believe he will kill my family and me. “Not good enough. Come,” Dean orders. He tugs my arm hard and drags me to the car, tossing me into the passenger side, slamming the door behind him. When he climbs into the driver's side, he smiles at me sinisterly and starts the car. We drive down a very dark long dirt road with no streetlights. Dean stops, puts the car in park, and turns to me with an icy stare and evil smirk. He turns the headlights off; for a moment; we’re in complete darkness. Just as quickly as he turned them off, he turns the lights back on to high beam. We’re in the bush, the kind of plac
I have four ladies in my final session. Rebecca, who typically runs this group, filled me in about these ladies have not quite come out of their shell individually or with each other. So today, I will tell them a little of my story in the hopes that it will be small comfort to them and help them open up or, at the very least, not feel so alone even if they’re in a group with similar issues. “Good Morning ladies, my name is Lilly, and I have survived domestic violence.” We go around the group with introductions and some small talk. I can see how anxious everyone is. “Rebecca asked me to be here today, to tell you a little bit of what I’ve been through since I left my abuser.” “Bec said it’s your last day”, Kelly states “It is.” “Can I ask why?” Annie asks in a small voice “I feel like it’s time.” Kelly gives me a quizzical look, “I’m not a trained professional. I do these sessions because I know it helped me in the beginni
This sunset is what I love about my apartment. This evening's sunset is stunning; the reds, pinks and purples and the golden sunset on the ocean. Dax is lying comfortably on my lounge, watching some TV show on the Comedy Channel, completely missing the setting sun happening directly behind him. He’s in the perfect spot to watch it, but instead, his eyes are thoroughly glued to the TV screen. I would roll my eyes, but I can’t help but smile; even though I’ve been on my own for more than a year, I’m never truly alone, not with Benny and not with Dax always around. When I first moved in, I was so scared. Thankfully I have Benny, my godsend, in more ways than one. No man would attack me in my apartment without Benny getting a bite in first. Benny trots happily towards me, his long tail doing a slow swish, swish behind him. He sits down and waits for my command to greet me. God, he’s a good boy. I give him a scratch around his ears. Dax is still staring mind
“Come on, sweet stuff, time to strut” Dax pulls me from the booth “Don’t you mean strum?” I ask laughing He stops and looks at me with a smirk on his face, “You don’t strum little bird, I do.” He continues to drag me up to the stage. “No need to drag me.” He lets me go, and I fix my clothes while grumbling about his and his brother's nick name. At first, it was cute, but then it stuck, and after a while, a grown arse woman doesn’t want to be called ‘Little Bird’. The crowd claps and whoops as Dax gets situated with his guitar, and I approach one of the lead mics. I take a look around, getting a feel for the room. We have a good mix of men and women tonight, which is nice. Lately, Modus Grace has been a bit of a ladies band, so the mixture tonight is good for me. Ladies can be pretty possessive while drunk, even though they have no clue whether Dax is single or not. It’s remarkable what some people do. A couple of men wink at me, and lo