Chim - Make You Stay

Chapter 42

Kimberley

He looks down on me, an angry glare across his face. He quickly clamps his hand down over my mouth, forcing me to stop screaming. As he sways slightly above me, I realise that he's drunk, smelling cigarettes on his hand.

He slowly removes his hand from my mouth, nervous that I'm going to scream again. We both stare at each other, glaring into each others eyes. It feels like the world has stopped, everything standing still as the moment lasts forever.

"What are you doing here?" I say, and I curse myself as my voice comes out as a scared whisper.

"Where is she?" he demands, and the tone of his voice sends chills down my spine.

"She isn't here"

He pulls the duvet roughly off of me, and I shiver with the sudden cold.

"Where. Is. She? Where is my wife?" he growls.

I swallow the lump in my throat and answer back, trying to sound brave.

"She isn't your wife anymore"

My first mistake.

I blink and suddenly he's on top of me, straddling me, and I flinch as he punches me in the face. I cry out, regretting answering him back as my face stings, and tears roll down my cheeks. He gets off of the bed, and drags me up with him, pulling me across the room and holding me roughly against the door by my shirt.

"WHERE IS SHE" he spits, his face scarily close to mine.

"She's not here" I sob. This must be a dream, please let this be a dream.

He lets go of me and I sink to the floor at his feet. My second mistake.

I cry out as his foot comes in contact with my stomach. Once, twice, three times he kicks me. I gasp for air, completely winded and tears rush down my cheeks, my body aching and my face throbbing from his punch.

"YOU DIRTY SLUT STOLE MY WIFE. YOU STUPID LESBIAN TELL ME WHERE SHE IS! TELL ME!" he screams at me, but I don't say a word, knowing that whatever I say will make it worse.

He uses his foot to nudge me out of the way of the door, and walks out of the room. I lay in the quiet, just the sound of music thumping above me still as I cry. And I pray. I've never prayed in my whole life, but I pray to any God that will hear me. I thank Him that Cheryl isn't here, because I'm weak. I wouldn't have been able to protect her, or myself. I also pray to Him that Ashley will leave. I pray that he's gone, on his way home, but I haven't heard the front door open or shut.

I slowly sit up, gasping as the pain shoots through my middle. The bedroom door is still open, and trying to be as quiet as I can, I crawl into the hallway, holding in my tears. Every movement feels like I'm dying, but I carry on, seeing the front door ahead of me. Get out. Get out. Get out.

I finally reach the door and tug on the handle, trying to be silent in case Ashley is still here. It doesn't budge. I pull as hard as I can, but still, nothing. It's locked.

"Nobody's going anywhere until I can talk to or see Cheryl" I hear the voice behind me. I turn around and Ashley is standing in the doorway of the living room, a bottle of champagne in his hand. Cheryl and I were saving it for a special occasion. I begin to sob again. There's no way out.

"Where's your phone?" he asks, walking over to me. I feel like screaming, begging for help, but I know it will be a waste of breath. Nobody will hear me over the music from above.

"I ASKED, WHERE IS YOUR PHONE" he yells.

"Why?" I whisper in reply

"SO I CAN CALL HER" he yells.

My heart stops and my breathing gets heavier. No no no. He can't call her, this can't happen. A large part of me wants to let him, so she knows what's happening, so he won't hurt me anymore and so she can get someone to help me. But he doesn't deserve it. And neither does Cheryl. Getting a call at half past two in the morning from your girlfriend, saying she's being beaten up by your ex? Not a call anyone wants to pick up. I can't do that to her. I have to be strong.

"No."

"What did you just say?" he whispers, his eyes staring into mine.

"I said no. You can't call her and I won't tell you where my phone is" I say defiantly, staring him down as my heart pounds in my chest.

That's my third mistake.