Broken Heartbeat

Chapter 3

(Jasmine's POV)

Two panic filled hours later, I find myself sitting on a tourist filled coach. I clutch a small black backpack on my lap and gaze frantically out the window, my eyes dart in every direction out of fear that Greg will somehow pop up out of nowhere.

From the moment Greg left the house I started packing my large suitcase with terror taking over every cell in my body. It took me a good twenty minutes before I was able to calm myself down enough so that I could think straight. I needed to be careful about what I did next.

I couldn't take a big suitcase with me it just wasn't practical. Instead, I fished out the small bag I now clutch so tightly. Next I pulled out the stash of cash I had hidden under the floorboard beside the bed. It wasn't much, but $800 was better than nothing at all. I had saved the money up from working in the bookstore.

Martina had thankfully paid me cash and I was able to keep a little to myself every week. Greg controlled all the money that came into the house, or so he thought. I had secretly been saving $25 every week for the past eight months. I didn't know what I would need it for but my gut told me to save.

I glanced around the bedroom, trying to see anything that I wanted to bring with me but there was nothing, nothing that meant any importance to me. All my cherished belongings had been thrown out, or worse, burned in front of me by Greg as a punishment. Whenever he thought that I had eaten too much or he thought that a guy was looking at me, he would grab something that reminded me of my mother and destroy it in front of me. He would then slap me, hit me or kick me. Whatever part of me he could reach easiest was his target.

He knew how much I cherished my mother's belongings. They were all that I had left of her. He knew I didn't have any memories of her, that I was too young when she died. To destroy her things like that was almost as bad as the beatings, if not worse. He knew it too, which is why he made it his mission to burn everything I had of hers.

I put the cash securely in the backpack along with a piece of paper with cell phone numbers of people I might need to contact. I dropped the backpack on the bed before heading into the bathroom. As I entered the bathroom I kept my eyes downcast, so that I wouldn't see my reflection in the mirror in front of me. I haven't looked in a mirror in over six months, not since Greg gave me a black eye. It hurt to see my bruised face, especially when he told me that I had drove him to it. So I simply stopped looking.

I pulled off my clothes and scrambled into the shower, the hot water cascaded down on me and I let out a shiver of fear. Without looking down I focused my gaze on the glass in front of me and methodically washed myself from head to toe, letting out soft whimpers of pain every time I hit a bruise or a tender area.

I hated showers. I used to love the water so much, but now the idea of it petrifies me. It started one night when I decided to take a bath after a long day working. My feet were killing me from standing and all I wanted to do was soak in the tub for a while. Greg wasn't due home for another hour and a half, so I knew I had time to have a relaxing bath before I needed to start dinner.

I had filled the bath up with relaxing salts and lots of bubbles as a mini pamper treat for myself. I climbed into the bath and just relaxed in the soothing aroma of the salts but, before I knew it, I had drifted off to sleep. I was awoken some time later by the bathroom door slamming open and a furious Greg looked down on me. His fists were clenched and he had a wild look in his eyes. I'm pretty sure he had been drinking.

Before I knew what was happening, he had grabbed me by the hair and pushed my head under the water. I screamed in shock and of course my lungs instantly filled with water. I panicked and my legs started flailing in every direction. I reached up and clawed at Greg's arm, which only infuriated him even further. He dragged me up from the water and I couldn't even scream in pain because I was coughing and choking so much. He yelled at me in fury before shoving me back under again. The second time he pulled me up, he yanked me out of the tub altogether and flung me across the room. I'm not sure what happened next but I remember waking up on the floor by the sink a few hours later, my hair was mated with blood and there was a throbbing pain between my legs. It didn't take me long to figure out what he had done.