Breathe (3 page)

“I walked into a door,” she lied. 

Bethany stood up from the table and started to walk away -- just like that.  She flinched when I grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving.  She looked painfully down at my hand as if she had been scorched.  I jerked my hand back immediately.  She was staring at the table again, struggling to regain her cool façade.  I raked my fingers through my hair as my mind raced to decide the best way to approach her.  There was no way to say it tactfully, so I just plunged ahead. 

“A door doesn’t leave a handprint on your cheek,” I pointed out gruffly.

She leaned slightly away from me as I lightly traced the bruise on her face.  

Bethany looked like a goldfish. She opened and closed her mouth a few times without speaking, obviously flabbergasted.  She hadn’t expected me to call her on her weak excuse.  She huffed and lowered her voice to a whisper. 

“Thanks but I am fine.  It doesn’t hurt anymore.” 

Her face did not look fine.  It had to be painful to even talk, yet she didn’t even wince.  Our conversation was over as far as she was concerned judging by the way she clamped her mouth shut.  I received the only answer I was going to get from her.  Her eyes pleaded with me to let it go.  The bell for fifth period rang, and she rushed from the room.

Bethany managed to avoid me for the remainder of the day. My teachers could have been speaking Chinese for all I knew because I was so preoccupied with her.  I just couldn’t get the picture of her battered face out of my head.  The final bell rang and I headed toward the student parking lot.  Just as I was opening the door to my car, I spotted Bethany gliding across the weed riddled practice field.  As usual, she was walking alone.  I climbed in the car and pulled around to the far side of the field and waited for her.  I knew the second she spotted me.  Her brisk walk slowed significantly and she changed her direction slightly so she could walk well in front of my car and avoid me altogether.  I jumped out of the car and called to her.

“Bethany!  Can I give you a ride home?”   

She pretended not to hear me and started picking up her pace once again.  I wasn’t giving up this time.  I intercepted her at the curb.  To get away from me she was going to have to walk around me. 

“Look, please let me give you a ride home.  It doesn’t feel right to let an injured girl walk home in this heat.  My dad would be ashamed.”

It was the best excuse I could come up with on short notice.  She finally stopped and gave me a little smirk.   

“I’m an excellent driver and I swear not to ask you any more questions about your fight with the door,” I promised wryly.

This time I got a small smile.  Her busted lip cracked a little, but I was grateful to see a smile on her face.  If she looked this stunning all bruised up, I couldn’t wait to see her smile when she was healed up. 

“That sounds fair enough,” she conceded, “Nice car by the way.”

I looked back at the black mustang my dad bought for me on my sixteenth birthday. 

“Thanks.” 

Bethany was unfailingly polite as she gave me directions to her house but had little else to say.  The closer we got to her house, the quieter her voice became. 

“Thanks for the ride.  It’s the next house on your left,” she directed, barely above a whisper. 

As I eased the car to a stop, a large man came out of the white clapboard house.  I recognized the expression on Bethany’s face instantly.  It was the same cornered animal look she had given me in the library earlier.  Her eyes were glued to the man on the front porch.  He was a tall, lanky, middle aged man with thinning brown hair whose expression appeared as if he smelled something particularly offensive.  He was obviously not happy as he slammed the front door shut behind him. 

“What do you think you are doing in that car you little whore?” he yelled from across the yard. 

Bethany froze in her seat as he approached the car.  Then, the expression on her face instantly became blank.  She unlocked the car door and started to walk across the yard completely unfazed as he spewed curse words at her.  She said something softly under her breath and gave him a wide berth as she made her way towards the front door.  My hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as I pulled away from her house.  Now, I knew who was hurting Bethany.

Chapter Three

BETHANY

After Logan dropped me off, Jack didn’t bother waiting until I got inside to start spewing cruel, hateful words.  When I made it safely to my room without Jack adding anymore color to my battered face, I sat on my bed and took several deep breaths to get my rapidly beating heart under control.  The usual comforting numbness I felt in stressful situations failed me.  Just the thought of Logan witnessing the humiliating scene with Jack almost sent me into panic attack mode. 

A tiny part of my brain was terrified that I even cared what Logan thought of me.  I never cared what the kids at school thought, why should I be embarrassed when it came to Logan?  I didn’t allow myself to dwell on that for too long.  I had more immediate things to stress about.  I was just thankful I made it into the house before Jack started using his fists to voice his displeasure. 

If Jack wasn’t drunk the worst I would get from him was the occasional backhand, but the violence escalated the drunker he got.  When Jack was home, I stayed in my room as much as possible.  When I had to venture out of my room to do my chores, use the bathroom, or eat, Jack would watch me like a hawk.  His eyes scrutinized every move I made, seeking the slightest misstep or infraction, so he could swoop in and ‘discipline’ me. 

I flinched suddenly when the front door slammed so hard it knocked a couple of pictures off my wall.

“Don’t think that this is over little girl!!!” Jack bellowed from outside my door.  “I want you to sit and think awhile about how I am going to punish you for getting a ride home from school without permission!” 

Judging by the tone in his voice, He was downright giddy just thinking about it.  Ice trickled down my spine--I shuttered to think of what this man could to do me when he really put his mind to it.  I heard the refrigerator door open and the rattle of glass bottles clinking together.  Jack was getting another beer no doubt.  By now I was sure that he had his butt parked on the couch watching TV.  I tried not to think about what awaited me once Jack drank enough liquid courage to carry out his threats.  I learned the hard way that Jack usually meant what he said.  There was no doubt about that. 

Eventually, I decided to try and distract myself by reading the assignment for government that was due the next day.  I tugged my backpack off of the floor and pulled my one ton government book out.  Obviously, I had the unabridged version.  I flipped to the chapter we were studying and tried to read.  It was useless, I couldn’t concentrate and found myself reading the same paragraph over and over.  Honestly, it was government so it wasn’t unusual for me to struggle to pay attention long enough to actually absorb what I was reading.  Waiting for the ax to fall made it almost impossible. I found myself staring at the dust motes as they made their way across my window.  Anything was preferable to letting myself think about what was waiting for me, especially since I knew that was exactly what Jack wanted me to do.

Slowly, my room began to darken and I had to turn my lamp on to continue my fruitless attempts at reading.  When another hour went by, I though perhaps I’d been granted a reprieve, and Jack was passed out on the couch.  It didn’t mean that he wouldn’t beat me the first chance he got tomorrow, but at least I didn’t have to worry about it tonight.  I decided to put on my pajamas and try and get some sleep.   I pushed the heavy tome to the floor with a sigh.  I would just have to wing it in government like I usually did and hope there wouldn’t be a pop quiz over the reading assignment.  I threw on my yoga pants and tank top and crawled into bed. 

Just as the anxiety began to ease around my heart, Jack threw the door to my room open. Outwardly, I gave no sign that the evil grin on his face stopped my heart. I quickly picked a spot above his left ear to concentrate on and kept a neutral expression on my face.  The blessed floating sensation that came when my mind began to pull away from reality enveloped me like a warm blanket.

“What do you think happens to little whores who ride in cars with boys?” he spat in my face. 

I remained perfectly still and continued gazing at the door hinge.  I knew of course that he didn’t expect an answer.  This was the part where he explained to me why I was being punished.  I often wondered why he even bothered with this part.  His explanation was usually very brief.  He could rarely contain himself very long before he went right ahead with the punching and slapping.  I felt myself slipping away a little further.

“I am going to make it so that you’ll remember not to accept rides home from boys every time you sit down for the next month,” he snarled softly. 

Despite my carefully controlled facade, my eyes darted to his.

“Oh, did that get a reaction from Daddy’s little ice princess?  Good.  This is going to be a lesson I promise you will never forget.” 

My mind desperately sought to pull away from reality.  The swooshing sound Jack’s belt made as he quickly unbuckled it and pulled it from the loops around his jeans made me flinch slightly.  I hadn’t been ‘spanked’ since I was twelve when Jack discovered that slaps and punches caused me to cry out more.

“Pull your pants down little girl and bend over that bed!  ”

The blood froze in my veins.  Jack had spanked me more times than I could count, but he never, ever, required me to remove any of my clothing before I was spanked.  This was a new and terrifying twist.  I struggled to get back to my calm place as I stared at him with my mouth hanging open.

I waited a second too long. 

Jack backhanded me so hard he knocked me into the opposite wall.  Blinding white light exploded before my eyes, and I saw nothing else for a few seconds.  My hand immediately flew to my already swollen face as I gasped in pain.  The sound of me hitting the wall was so loud, I knew my mother heard it but there would be no rescue coming from her.  She usually retreated to the back porch the moment Jack began yelling at me.  I was alone.

“You pull those pants down now you little bitch or it will be twice as bad if I have to do it for you!”  He barked at me.

That statement got my frozen hands moving.  My entire body was shaking as I quickly shimmied out of my pants and was across the bed in ten seconds.  I tried to picture myself sitting on a beach with the sand between my toes on a beautiful summer day with the sun on my face.  I could almost hear the waves rolling in and smell the salt in the air before my heart dropped with his next menacing words.  

“Everything Bethany, I am going to beat your bare ass,” he demanded menacingly. 

Before I had time to react, He grabbed the back of my underwear and ripped them off in one yank.  I squeezed my eyes shut to stop the tears of humiliation that threatened to fall.  I made a promise to myself a couple of years ago that I would never cry in front of him again.  It was the only rebellion I indulged in because I knew it infuriated him when he couldn’t break me. 

The pain of the first strike across my skin was so shocking that I couldn’t scream even if I wanted to.  Now that I knew what pain level to expect, I braced myself for the next blow and clamped my lips shut.  I decided that this sicko wasn’t going to get any satisfaction from hearing me cry out in pain tonight.

Smack.  Smack.  Smack.  Smack.  Smack.

Blow after blow landed.  The searing pain set my backside on fire.  I could hear the sickening whistle of the belt as it cut through the air before each strike.

Smack.  Smack.  Smack. 

Jack’s breathing got faster with every lash of the belt against my skin.  My rear end stung like someone had built a campfire on it.   I could feel something oozing down the side of my leg and pooling next to me but still he didn’t stop.  It was impossible for me to get up and out run him now even if I tried, besides where else would I go? 

“You stupid little slut, what do you think boys want from you when you get in the car with them?” Jack spouted viciously as he continued to deliver blow after blow. 

He broke me somewhere after the tenth smack landed.  The excruciating pain from the belt hitting my torn flesh was too much to take in silence.  My wails of agony seemed to excite him even more.  He wasn’t satisfied with flaying the skin off my rear end.  He began to whip me with the belt from the back of my neck down to my ankles.  Jack had worked himself into a righteous frenzy and continued to abuse me until I eventually passed out from the pain. 

A soft gasp brought me back to consciousness.  As usual, my mother had waited until Jack passed out to check on me.  Our redundant routine would consist of Mom telling me that Jack was justified in punishing me but had a hard time controlling his temper.  If he didn’t care about me, he wouldn’t bother correcting me…blah, blah, blah.  Then she would beg me to be a good girl from now on.  If the thrashing was particularly severe she would give me Tylenol for the pain. 

Tonight there was no lecture.  I was suffering too much to move a muscle, so I just stayed put until my mother decided to break the silence. 

“Bethany!”

Her voice quivered as she spoke my name.  She ran from my room.

When I heard her come back I felt a cool wash cloth touch my back.  The stinging I thought couldn’t get any worse escalated.  It felt like she had alcohol instead of water on that wash rag. 

“Mom, please don’t touch me,” I begged. 

“You are bleeding.  I need to get you cleaned up before it gets infected,” she instructed. 

Despite my pleas, my mom insisted on bathing my back from head to toe. I knew she was only trying to help, but I wanted to be left alone.  I couldn’t even look at her knowing she allowed this to happen.  Her concern felt false and the sight of her disgusted me.

“There, now we are going to have to wait for the welts to stop oozing before I can put any cream on it.” 

Really?  I just got whipped within an inch of my life and you are calmly discussing medical care of my wounds?  Any other mother would have called 911 immediately or driven me to the emergency room.  Any decent mother would have never let this happen to her child in the first place.  I wasn’t sure if the tears I felt stinging my eyes were from the physical pain or the emotional pain of knowing my mother chose to sit on the back porch while I suffered.

I knew she was focusing on treating my wounds because she was in shock from the horrendous mess that my back must look like.  I couldn’t find the emotion to care how she felt.  She could disappear for all I cared at that moment.  Right now, I just wanted her to go away and leave me to my misery.     

“I don’t know what on earth you did to warrant this, but we can talk about it tomorrow.  I’ll call the school in the morning and tell them you are too injured to attend for a while.” 

She handed me four Tylenol and held a glass of water out to me.  When it was clear I wasn’t able to sit up enough to take it, she got me a straw and I was able to swallow the pills lying down.  I gently put my cheek back on my pillow and closed my eyes hoping she would take the hint and leave now.  A few seconds ticked by and I began to wonder if she’d left yet before I heard a soft sigh.

“I’ll check on you in a couple of hours.  We will get some ointment on those when they dry up a bit and I’ll bring you some more pain medicine,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

She patted the bottom of my foot and closed the door behind her.  I spent the rest of my night concentrating on getting from one second to the next without sobbing.  I hated sleeping on my stomach, but it appeared like this was going to be the only position for me for a while.  Sleep was elusive for me under the best of circumstances but trying to sleep with this level of pain was impossible.  After an hour or so, I felt the Tylenol take effect.  It didn’t help significantly, but at this point I would take what I could get.  I closed my eyes and was able to feel an ocean breeze and hear the cry of seagulls.

A hand brushed the hair back from my face.  Thinking my mom had finally come to check on me, I opened my eyes and carefully turned my head to look behind me.  I was surprised to find I was alone.  I closed my eyes and struggled to focus on something besides the pain.  Sometime later, I started to doze again when I heard muffled cries.  My mom was sitting right outside my door.  It was somewhat comforting to know that at least she was upset to see me savagely hurt, even if she couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud.

The entire backside of my body felt like it was in flames.  My muscles were screaming from being in one position for so long, but I couldn’t budge.  The slightest movement caused the agony to escalate to the point where I felt nauseous.  I was alone and immobile.  The prospect of spending the night in my own vomit had me staying right where I was. 

Jack had really out done himself this time. The thought of having to wake up tomorrow and face him again made the nausea creep up my throat and set my pulse racing.  My only choice was to stare at my bedroom wall and listen to my mother’s muffled cries in the next room. 

After a few minutes, I heard her get up and walk towards the living room.  I was hoping she would come back and give me more medicine, but she never did.   I was left to stare at the wall for hours desperately longing for the escape of sleep.  Anything to give me a respite from the tremendous pain I felt.  Tears silently trickled from my eyes.  It wasn’t just the pain.  I was weeping for the little girl I was before this monster came into my life.  I was grieving for the person I should have been before fists and hateful words crushed my spirit.  I shut my eyes tightly hoping to sleep.  Hours later, I finally fell asleep to the rhythmic touch of my mother’s hand brushing though the back of my hair.