Not to be deterred, he found a new set of buddies, losers who liked nothing more than sitting around drinking, smoking, and zoning out in front of the TV. As well as waiting on them every hour of every day, I was expected to put up with their lewd suggestions and occasional groping without comment.
My social life took a further nosedive when Billy forbade me from seeing my girlfriends, his reasoning being that if he wasn’t going out, then neither was I.
“I’ll miss you, babe,” he said. “Friday nights wouldn’t be the same without my girl.”
Without his girl to fetch his beer and dial for his pizza, more like. I stewed over his orders until one evening I decided to hell with it, I was going out anyway.
That was the first time he hit me.
Just an open-handed slap when I tried to get past him to the front door. As the crack of skin on skin echoed in the hallway, he looked almost as shocked as I felt.
“Sweetheart, I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry.”
He gripped my hands, his knuckles as white as his face. Words wouldn’t come as he bundled me up in a hug and cradled me against him.
“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled over and over again. “Please forgive me.”
Eventually, he wore me down with his constant begging. Anyone could make a mistake, right? That’s what Momma always said.
“Okay, I forgive you, but promise you won’t do it again.”
He didn’t hesitate. “I promise, sweetheart. I promise.”
The truth rarely passed Billy’s lips and, of course, that was no exception. I should have known, but he had a way of making me doubt my own sanity. The slaps became punches, the punches turned into kicks, and occasionally, he’d slam me into the wall for variety. My visits home to Momma became an exercise in hiding bruises and putting a brave face on things.
“Are you all right, Lara?” she’d ask. “Is everything okay with Billy?”
“Everything’s fine. I’m just tired.”
The second part was true. I lay awake most nights plotting my escape.
Pride stopped me from admitting how Billy hurt me. He’d conditioned me to shoulder the blame, to believe I drove him to it. The dumb part of me remembered the good times and kept waiting for the old Billy to return.
Not only that, I couldn’t bear to let Momma down. She’d sacrificed so much for me growing up—working two jobs, dressing from the thrift store, skipping meals—all so I could have a roof over my head, eat well, and do things I loved like going to math camp in the summer. When I got accepted to Brown, her grin made the Cheshire Cat look so-so.
“All those years were worth it,” she said, grabbing my hand and dancing around the apartment. “My daughter, the college student.”
She told everyone the good news—her friends, the neighbours, the cashier at the supermarket, the man who came to read the electricity meter. I wouldn’t have been surprised to pick up the local paper and find a half-page announcement. How would she feel if I dropped out?
Because if I left Billy, staying in Providence would be impossible. He’d make my life a waking nightmare. I ticked off each passing day on the calendar in my head, counting down until graduation and the day I could finally run from him.
Whenever I heard people talk about domestic violence, their first question was always, “Why didn’t she leave at the beginning? Why stick around to be used as a punching bag?”
Once upon a time, I’d asked the same thing, except when I ended up in the situation, I realised words were so much easier than actions. Billy’s cruelty crept up on me like a high tide. My self-esteem got washed away with every drop of my blood he spilled until I became an empty shell, battered and dulled around the edges. Devoid of colour. Incapable of feeling.
I was the ghost to Billy’s monster.
I tried to block out those memories as the phone rang yet again. It was no good—I’d have to answer it to have any hope of peace. I nearly tripped as I stumbled over to the jacket I’d worn yesterday and fished the phone out of the left-hand pocket.
Tori calling, the screen announced. Thank goodness for small mercies—at least it wasn’t Emmy, or worse, Mr. Goldman. Not that I expected him to call. After all, he’d only met me for two minutes and neither of them was pleasant.