brow furrows in confusion, but how could he know I’ve been lost in my own head.
“He’s been gone for a while,” I explain.
“Prison.”
I don’t answer him because the word is spoken with assurance and not in the form of a question.
“He’s been locked up for five years.”
“Domestic assault?”
I clench my jaw, annoyed with having this conversation. Every time someone presumed I was being abused, the fingers all pointed to me.
I was asking for it.
I stayed.
I didn’t seek help.
I tolerated the violence.
I poked the bear.
My own parents gave me the you made your bed, now lie in it speech when I called after he hit me the second time.
After a while, I learned to stop mentioning it. It was my own hell to live in.
It wasn’t until Jeremy went to jail that I sought counseling. It wasn’t until I learned about the cycle of abuse that I was able to open my eyes to my own history with a better understanding of what I went through. For years I believed everything people said about me. It took forever before I was able to accept that the abuse wasn’t my fault. It took numerous sessions talking through what had happened to me before I could accept that he didn’t hurt me because of something I did, but rather there was something broken inside of him.
Yet, even after everything I learned, I still opened my door to him three days ago. With trembling hands and fear in my heart, I let that man back in my life because the threats he made all those years ago were still real to me. How easy it was for me to fall right back into the place that believed asking for help would only bring more pain. How any punishment that came at his hands was due to something I did wrong or something I should’ve done better.
“Domestic assault?” Detective Matthews repeats when I don’t answer.
“Robbery,” I answer.
“You’re asking questions you already know the answers to,” Rocker hisses, and I’m thankful he’s showing a little emotion. Most men would back down while standing in front of a man with a badge and a gun.
I don’t think Detective Matthews is a bad guy. I know he has a job to do, and I can respect that, but I’m so overwhelmed right now, I can’t think straight.
The cop clears his throat. “There were numerous calls to your residence for domestic assault ten years ago, but then they stopped.”
And there’s the accusation.
“Calling only made things worse.”
“So the abuse didn’t end?”
“No,” I answer on a sob, my arms aching like I’ve spent hours in the gym as I try to lift them to my face in an attempt to hide my embarrassment. “It didn’t.”
Jinx touches my arm, holding my hand when I look over at him.
Once upon a time, I spent a night with him, but I never took him for the comforting type. He’s more of the pull your hair and make you beg for release kind of man. That night was the beginning of tonight’s trouble, and I have to force my eyes away from him.
I’d rather be interrogated by the police than start the conversation that I know needs to happen. It may not be the smartest thing in the world, but I’ll postpone it as long as I can.
It takes everything I have not to press my palm to my stomach. Although there really hasn’t been much time between waking up and the detective arriving, neither man in the room mentions the bomb I dropped before passing out at the clubhouse. After the beating I took at Jeremy’s hands, there may no longer be a reason for the dreaded discussion.
My tears renew, and by some miracle, the detective remains silent as I cry.
It’s only after Rocker presses a rough tissue into my hands and my tears begin to subside does someone speak again.
“Can you tell me what happened tonight?”
I stare down at the blood on the tissue, trying not to think about how badly my face is damaged if it’s still bleeding after being treated before speaking.
My mind runs through scenarios, wondering if people will leave me alone in jail due to my injuries or if it will only make me more vulnerable and an easier target.
“Jeremy showed up three days ago. He was given ten years, but somehow managed an early release due to overcrowding and good behavior.” I huff a laugh. My husband stopped the fights over me in public after a year of