Crossfire

47.

Onika Maraj
Smoky Mountains

I made sure no one was watching, then slipped outside to the top balcony. The cool air hit me hard, but it was a welcome distraction from what was happening inside.

"Tre, why the fuck are you calling me?" My voice came out sharper than I intended, the frustration building inside me.

I could feel the anger rising-he had no right to be calling me.

Not after everything.

There was a pause, then his voice came through again, dripping with regret. "Nicki... listen, I'm sorry. I know you don't wanna hear it, but I wasn't okay back then. I wasn't right in the head... I wasn't in control of myself. But I've changed. I'm getting help in here. I just need you to know that."

I stayed quiet, gripping the phone tighter. It was always the same with him-this twisted cycle of guilt and apologies. He knew exactly how to play with my mind, how to make me question everything. He'd done it for years, kept me trapped in his web.

I should've hung up. But, I didn't.

"I love you," he continued, his voice lowering, as if he could reach into my soul and twist the knife. "I've always loved you, Nicki. And I'm sorry for what I did, for how I hurt you. You didn't deserve any of it. But I've changed. Jail's been different for me. I've been talking to someone, working through my shit. I wasn't well, but I'm better now"

I felt sick. He had broken me in ways I didn't think I'd ever recover from. And now here he was, claiming he'd changed.

That he was getting help in jail. I wanted to believe it. I wanted to believe that people could change, that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't the monster I remembered.

But then the memories flooded back-the pain, the fear, the nights I would lay awake terrified he would come back.

"You don't just get to say you're better, Tre," I finally said, my voice shaking. "You don't get to pretend like none of that happened. You hurt me. You broke me."

"I know, Nicki. I know," he replied, and damn if he didn't sound genuine. "I wasn't in my right mind. I was fucked up-mentally. I couldn't control myself. I'm not excusing it, but I'm telling you, I'm different now. I'm not that person anymore. I've been working on myself. I know you don't owe me anything, but I need you to know that."

I closed my eyes, trying to block out the sound of his voice, trying to drown out the part of me that still, deep down, wanted to believe him.

But I couldn't forget the bruises, the nights I cried alone, the shame I felt for staying as long as I did. He knew how to manipulate me, how to say just the right thing to make me doubt myself.

He always had.

"I don't know what you want from me, Tre," I whispered, feeling the weight of everything crashing down on me. I didn't know if I was angry, scared, or just tired.