Living With the Choices We Make (Domestic Violence / Abuse) ✔️

19 - Unwanted Advice

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19 - Unwanted Advice  

Over the next few days, the mood was tense, almost pressing. Brent was careful to stay in control and still showed himself from his best side but I was no longer able to relax like before when we had gone through our honeymoon stage. I felt I was constantly walking on egg shells, afraid to even breathe too loud. I stayed away from the phone but the thought of seeing Kade in just a few days was somewhat comforting.

Soon, I was thrown into a dilemma. I still had a sick note for school and Brent would leave in the morning to go to DePaul but I never knew when he would return. He didn't share his schedule with me and sometimes surprised me at lunchtime, even sneaking up on me a few times, almost starling me to death. This made it almost impossible for me to leave the house without the danger of being detected and it was his way of telling me that I was a prisoner in my own home, guaranteeing him to keep me in check.

I figured the safest time to go to my appointment with Kade would be in the early morning and a few minutes after Brent departed for DePaul, I seized the opportunity. It took me about twenty minutes to get to the hospital by bus and I asked for Kade at the reception desk of the emergency room as soon as I arrived.

"I am sorry but Dr. Fallon was called into surgery," I was informed. "It will be a while."

That was just great. I checked my watch and pondered if I should wait at all but decided I would give him an hour. I was sure I would still be OK yet the delay agitated me. I was nervously drumming my fingers on the armrest, watching the other patients, trying to determine what was wrong with them.

A young girl about my age was clutching her arm, seemingly in a lot of pain and I was wondering how she got hurt. Maybe her boyfriend or father pushed her down the stairs which was a consoling thought. Back then, it was so much better imagining that I was not the only one being abused – it helped me to justify my continuous devotion to Brent.

An hour passed and I had just decided to give Kade another fifteen minutes when I was approached by a young woman.

"Are you Rena Cooper?"

I glared at her with suspicion and neither confirmed nor denied my identity. She must have taken my silence as a 'yes' and gave me a crocked smile. "I am sorry to intrude. I'm Laura. Kade ask me to come by and talk to you."

I studied her from head to toe. She was maybe in her mid-twenties, short and a little on the heavy side. Her wavy hair was chestnut brown and she had a cute button nose covered completely with freckles but what was most dominant in her otherwise pretty face was a scar which was running from her left eyebrow upwards towards the top of her skull, disappearing somewhere in her hair.

I gave her a curt smile and signaled with my head that the seat next to me was not occupied. She lowered herself, her feet planted firmly on the ground, prepared to jump up at any moment. Her eyes scanned the emergency room cautiously and when she didn't find what she apparently had been looking for, she relaxed somewhat but there was still a certain degree of tension in her face. I would soon learn that this was part of her usual appearance.

"I work in the woman's shelter on ...," she started.

I immediately regretted having offered her a seat. I crossed my arms in front of my chest. "I am not really comfortable talking to you."

I felt betrayed by Kade and I did not appreciate him going behind my back and sic that woman on me.

She found my eyes. "I understand how you feel. I was in an abusive relationship for five years before I got out. I went through the whole spiel – promises, threats, blame, the feeling of inferiority, the works. He beat me close to death twice and this is a permanent present he gave me one Christmas Eve." Her fingers traced the scar.