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

3 - Red Flags

3 - Red Flags 

"So, this is how Brent and I met." I gaze at Doc expectantly, hoping my story satisfied his curiosity.

"It sounds like he swept you off your feet."

Brent most certainly did. "Yep. Back then, I thought it was love at first sight."

"And today?"

Another one of his clever questions. "I feel differently, I guess."

"Do you think he loved you?"

Brent didn't even know what love was. Sudden tears pool my eyes and I turn towards the window. "No."

How could I have ever been foolish enough to believe Brent when he muttered those words?

"You seem upset. Is this difficult for you?"

Hell yeah. It is harder than he could ever imagine. "No." My voice is trembling and I clutch a hand over my mouth to suppress a sob.

"Look at me, Rena."

I force myself to face him and hope he doesn't notice the traitorous glint in my eyes but even if he does, he doesn't let on.

"Let's go back to your first encounter at the coffee shop," he suggests. "In hindsight, do you think his behavior was odd?"

I sigh. "Sure. Today I know that just grabbing a total stranger's arm is a clear red flag. But back then, I was clueless."

"And his pushy behavior?"

"That too. I should have known that something wasn't right." My age had definitely something to do with it but I also played right into his hands. The alarm bells should have gone off in my head and I should never have agreed to go out with him.

"Do you blame your father for not protecting you?"

I shake my head - I never did. Anyone who knew Brent realizes that he was a master of manipulation.

"How about yourself? Do you blame yourself for being so gullible?"

He got me. I always believed it to be my fault. I should have known what kind of person he was.

Silent tears fall and I turn away again. "Can we take a break?"

He hesitates.

"Please," I beg.

"Ok. Five minutes."

I have the desperate urge to get away from him. This is just too difficult.

"Can I use the bathroom?"

In response, he signals towards the mirror and Thelma, the guard who always watches me in the yard, comes in. Of all the women, she is my favorite. She told me she had a daughter my age and somehow, I believe she understands what I'm going through. At least more than the others do. Unlike them, she doesn't give me these accusing looks, suggesting that I am a cold hearted murderer.

She stands behind me with sympathy in her eyes when I sprinkle cold water in my face, passing me a paper towel when I turn off the water.

"Thanks," I mutter.

"Don't mention it."

I stare into the mirror and barely recognize myself. My eyes are dull and bruised from the lack of sleep, all happiness vanished.

Eyes.... I can't get Brent's blank gaze out of my mind, the way he looked when he took his last breath at my hands. He had left me no choice - at least that's what I thought back then. Today, I know there had been other options all along the way but my fear and stubbornness got me to where I am now.

Thelma clears her throat, my time is up. I have to go back in there and give answers to far too many questions - asked by this shrink who knows next to nothing about me but holds the key to the rest of my life.

He is on the phone as I walk in. "Yes honey, I love you too. Give Mitch a kiss from me."

Mitch is probably his kid. Doc likely has the perfect life – a wife, son and maybe even a dog with Christmas cards portraying a happy family. I hate him for that. And I resent that this little boy has a father and a mother and nothing to worry about.

I lower myself back into the chair. He won't get any more easy answers from me.

He scrutinizes me, tapping a pen against his teeth. "You didn't answer my question yet. Do you blame yourself?"

Why must he have such a good memory and can't just let it go? It is obvious I don't want to talk about it.

"What difference does it make?"

"It makes a difference to the court, Rena. Blame is sometimes seen as sign of remorse."

I snort. "I'm not sorry if this is what you're after. I did what I had to do."

The words come out sharper than intended.

"Do you really believe that?"

Hell no. I just wasn't strong enough to break free. I was weak and as a result, a human life was cut short.

"Look," I snap. "Why don't you just finish your report? Tell them I was perfectly sane and that I'm a despicable person. Just don't bother me any longer."

His eyebrows knot together as he takes in a sharp breath. "You know, they will probably ask for the death penalty if I do that."

I bury my face in my hands. He doesn't need to remind me.

"I just want to go home." My voice is reduced to a whisper.

"I know you do." He opens one of the bottles of water on the table. "But that won't be easy. You will have to convince a jury that your actions were justified. It's a very hard thing to do."

"Do you believe I was justified?"

He takes a few swallows of water. "That's what I'm trying to figure out."

At least he didn't give me another 'It doesn't matter what I believe' type response.

"OK," I say. "Fair enough." I push myself to continue. "Yes, I blame myself. I wonder every minute of the day if I could have done something differently. Why wasn't I smart enough to realize what type of person he was? Why didn't I just walk out the door the first time it happened?"

"And that makes you feel weak?"

"Hell, yeah." I sniffle, stupid tears falling again.

He passes me a box of tissue. "Why don't we take a step back and you tell me how your relationship continued?"

I don't want to, but really don't have much of a choice. From the look of things, he won't be going home to his wife and Mitch until I have answered all of his stupid questions. 

Thanks for reading. Questions for this chapter: How do you like the characters so far? Can you sympathize with Rena or are you still getting to know her? How about Doc? Mixed feelings, plain annoying or kind of a good guy?

I would really appreciate your feedback and don't forget to vote if this chapter deserved it.