Just Let Go

Darcy's Past

"Be safe Darcy..." Caras words echoed through the phone as I place it back into the receiver. Each day she signs off the same way, each day I can't give her the words to remove her worry. My heart heaves as I shut the door on my emotions, my body wracks with guilt. As much as I force every ounce of pain and suffering out of my voice in our daily phone calls, my Cara still hears through my lies. A glance to the perfectly positioned clock on the wall revealed our phone call had run past the hour so I was now running late. I remember buying the clock, in a happier time. Foster and I stumbled across it in an old reproduction furniture store. In a dark dingy corner amongst cobwebs and furniture that looked like it hadn't seen any love in years, the clock stood out. It's cream face with dark gold intermittent swirls smiled at us from above. I gushed into Fosters shoulder about how wonderful it would look in our new home, we had just moved in. It would take pride and place on a wall, I didn't care which. It just belonged in our home. It's funny how something that once brought such a sense of giddiness and joy soon turned into something that brought nothing but a painful reminder that my next bruise was merely minutes away. Another glance to said clock showed my distracted trip down memory lane had taken another four minutes of time I couldn't afford. I got distracted a lot lately, any excuse to get lost in something. Get stripped away from the life I can't escape. My feet wouldn't allow me to waste anymore time and took me to the kitchen, my hands took over and turned the oven on. Before my brain knew what it was doing, I was halfway through preparing dinner. My hands chopping through onions on their own accord, my body knew what was coming, yet still tried desperately to fight it with the only thing it had left. Obedience.
Laying the bowl of salad between the two steaming plates of Chicken Alfredo, the front door clicks open. The keys jingling grate on my ears but I still manage to pour the wine.
"Darcy my darling, this smells delicious" I look up from what I'm doing and look at the beast that stands in the door frame. His wide stance fills the opening as his heavy boots step forward.
"Chicken Alfredo with homemade garlic bread, one of your favourites.." I watch the table and keep my eyes low as his figure steps beside me. He brings his right arm up and I flinch automatically, as naturally as someone blinks.
"Shhh" My eyes screwed tight, he strokes through my perfectly brushed and placed hair, just how he likes. With a quick tight squeeze on the nape of my neck he settles into the chair and picks up his fork. The appreciative hums coming from his mouth appease me enough to sit beside him at my plate. We sat in silence. I would take silence. It wasn't the deadly quiet he could give off, I wasn't on the edge of my seat. This was new, and not unbearable. Dinner wasn't rushed, I began to enjoy my mouthfuls, placing more salad on Fosters plate when I saw he could use some more. Pulling my cutlery together on the plate a ghost of a smile played on my lips at this new atmosphere. I waited like this until Foster had finished, almost giddy to please him more, and keep him in this calm mood, I jumped up to clear his plate. The next few moments shifted so quickly, I didn't stand a chance. In my excited and eager state I knocked the bottle of wine over the length of the table and to Fosters feet. I was frozen in that moment. The only sounds coming from the motion of the rolling bottle, currently emptying the final remnants of it's once crisp liquid filling and my laboured breathing. But Fosters silence had taken on the edge I was so happy to have lost tonight. He wouldn't look at me, just at the mess spilling onto his boots. The sharp jerk of his chair pushing backwards sent me to my knees, not quite into the foetal position but hunched to look at our wood flooring.
"Oh Darcy, so eager to clear up. Now look at the mess you've made...typical Darcy." To anyone else, his voice would sound carefree, almost jovial. But I knew it was anything but, the steadier his voice, the deadlier he became.
"Come have a look at what you've done Darcy" I crawled towards him, in a pathetic state. Shuffling your body to inevitable pain and hurt used to be a struggle. My body would fight the outcome. It learnt better. Each movement, my muscles sighed. Giving into what was going to happen, there was only so much I could protect. Now kneeling at Fosters feet, I saw the liquid staining the tanned colour of his new Timberland boots, the dark stains seeping further around the toe caps. I managed to close my eyes before the ruined left boot connected with my jaw with a force much greater than his fists had ever had. Flat on my back I could see fists come towards my face, no pain. No sound really, just muffled tones of loud words. His face distorted with my blurred vision. It made him seem unreal, like I was imagining it all. This wasn't my life.
Unfortunately the pins my jaw would probably need and the excuse I would tell the doctor tomorrow would remind me that this is real, I'm not imagining it and this is my fucking life.