Marielle was scared of him, but Harry was only scared of losing her.
*DISCLAIMER: This story contains a lot of domestic abuse, violence and swearing. Please consider checking out these things if you're interested in helping with domestic violence or...
I didn't like to think that because it wasn't very humble. So I'll rephrase it: I feel smart. Better? I guess.
When your cheeks are mascara stained, your neck has a large red mark the size of a hand, and you're trying to catch your breath. You aren't okay. I knew that. So today, I waited until her boyfriend left for work. I observed his blue mechanic uniform. He knew how to handle tools; or weapons in his case. I mentally noted that.
When his black Ram pulled out of the apartment parking, (yes, I knew this one American car. I'd seen enough of them driving over here) I clicked on some random heavy metal song. It wasn't my preferred genre but it was enough to get her attention. I felt like it wasn't her preferred genre either.
Then I waited. About twenty minutes later, I heard the knock I'd been expecting at the old wooden door. I sprung to my feet and greeted the brunette at the door.
"Um..hi. Can you-um..turn it down a little?" My plan had worked. And that was why today I felt smart. But not for long. I'd spent so much time on the plan then what I'd say to her. I scratched the back of my head.
"I'm sorry. Can I make you a cup of tea to make up for it?" I sounded like a complete idiot. Of course, she wouldn't say yes.
She giggled a little, "you're so British." I laughed along and opened the door wider. I watched as she stepped into my apartment and looked around. I remember last night when I'd glanced around, none of the curtains were open and it was as dark as the night sky. I didn't like that. I always kept the curtains drawn and the windows open when it wasn't chilly.
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I closed the door behind her and ran to switch off the god awful music I'd decided to blare. I hadn't fully unpacked yet. All my furniture was in but there were boxes everywhere. I had tried to pack as little as possible; I didn't expect to be here long. I was going back to the UK in less than a year.
"Wow, a lot of unpacking to do here," I nodded in response, pouring water into the steel kettle.
"Why did you move here?" She asked.
"Umm..well, I like to write music so I wanted a taste of something else. Something—small." She giggled a little, "well, you came to the right place."
I hadn't done my research, this town was small. It was a Christmas town and that was nice. I decided it would be a good place to spend the next year. Writing music. Even if it wasn't going to go anywhere.
I carefully grabbed two mugs from an open box and dug through another for tea bags. Mum had sent me here with some. I bet if I told Mara that she'd laugh again and tell me I was very British. I couldn't help it, the tea was great.
"So how long have you and Trent lived here?" I asked eyeing her and watching her flinch at Trent's name. I felt bad, but if my neighbor was being abused by her boyfriend, I needed to help.
"A couple years now. I kind of just got sick of living in the big city with my parents and my sister so I guess I ran away with Trent." She shrugged the answer off surprisingly. Like it was nothing. I decided not to press her anymore about her family. It wasn't my business, none of this was.
"Oh."
She nodded, and we stood in awkward silence, waiting until the kettle was done.
Only God knows how long that will take.
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American hotline for domestic abuse:1-800-799-SAFE (7233).
Website link for more information and numbers: http://www.thehotline.org
