Hell, Fire & Freedom (Fighting for Freedom) (5 page)

“Welcome to the Cynthia McNeil Women’s Shelter, what can I do for you today?” the short, curly-haired, blond woman asks. She isn’t overly chipper, which I appreciate, but I’m still not sure how I’m going to muster up the courage to ask so much of someone who has never even met us before. She has big brown eyes and soft curves, and she seems friendly enough. I decide the worst she can do is turn me away.

“I was wondering if I could speak with someone about my … well,
our
, current situation. We need some advice,” I say nervously. I feel Marie lean her head on my shoulder, and I thank God she is so affectionate. We never had this from our ma, but we have always had it from each other. It gives me the courage to stick this thing through.

I watch as the woman’s eyes grow serious, and she reaches out and envelopes my hand in hers. “You hang here just a moment, while I go grab Tara. She’s who you want to talk to. She’ll get you all straightened out,” she says, looking at us like she’s scared we’re going to bolt if she leaves the room. I take a seat in one of the chairs beside the desk, this seems to calm her some. I don’t miss her taking in the suitcase we brought with us either. She holds up her finger as if to say ‘just a minute’ before walking away briskly.

Marie and I remain silent until she returns with who I’m assuming is Tara. She’s about five foot nothing, with long golden hair that falls past her bottom. She’s about as thin as Marie is, and is wearing jeans, a light pink flowery top, and really cute gold gladiator sandals. She’s quite young, probably only about thirty.

“Welcome! My name is Tara, and I’m the counselor here at the shelter. Can I get you something to drink? Tea, coffee, or something to eat?” she asks.

We shake our heads and mumble something about just eating. She leads us back into a large office with a comfy looking black leather couch, and a wooden rocking chair on one end, and a desk and chair set up on the other side of the room. Marie and I take a seat on the couch, and she grabs a clipboard and settles herself into the rocking chair. Her feet barely reach the floor, so she tucks them under bum.

“All right, I have a huge checklist here of things I can ask you if you’re not comfortable sharing openly, or if you’re able to, you can tell me about anything at all. I’m here to listen, for as long as you need me to be. I’m not going to do anything without your consent, so anything you share with me, will be for my ears and eyes only, unless you say otherwise, okay?”

I try and open myself up to her, but I’m not sure where to begin. Do I start with our journey to New York, the abuse, my childhood, or why I married Carl in the first place? I can sense the silence dragging on, but she says nothing to interrupt my thought process. I don’t want Marie to have to hear every last detail, but I don’t want to keep secrets from her either. I look over at Marie and whisper, “I’m so sorry.”

I decide to start at the beginning. I tell her everything about our childhood, how we met Carl, how he coerced me into marrying him, the abuse, and then finally our escape. I leave out the amount of cash I have on me at the moment, however. I want to keep that out of the equation in case we need to pack up and leave again. She listens patiently without interrupting. When I finish, she straightens in her chair and reads through the notes she’s taken.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am to hear that. I truly am. I’d like to help you in any way I know how. Do you mind telling me what brought you here today?” Tara asks. I think about my answer, terrified of what I need to say, but I manage to spit it out anyway.

“I want to make sure Carl can never hurt Marie again. I would like to file for a divorce. I’d like to find employment and a safe place to live with Marie. I’d like to start our lives here, and most of all, I never, ever want Carl to find out where we are, because he
will
come after us and he will
kill
me. I’m sure of that.” My voice is starting to shake now, but if anyone can understand what I’m going through, I guess it would be her. I can’t be the only person to come into a women’s shelter or they wouldn’t exist. Right?

“Would you like to press charges against him?” Tara asks. I think long and hard about that, but I’m still not sure. Marie and I didn’t discuss pressing charges.

“Would he see the charges were pressed against him from New York? Could he find us here? Same with if I filed for a divorce? All I want is for him to leave us alone, but I know he’s not going to do that. Could the safest thing be to just stay in hiding? What if he doesn’t agree to a divorce? Carl once told me that if he doesn’t agree, then I will be legally tied to him forever,” I sputter out, feeling a panic attack coming on. Tara reaches out and rubs my arm.

“That’s just not true, dear. I’m sorry he used that to scare you. I can see some light yellow bruising around your eye, and I’m guessing you’re pretty handy with makeup by now, so I’m not seeing all there is to it, am I?” she asks, and I shake my head. She nods, sitting back in her seat.

“Do you have any other bruising? If I could get some photos of you, very private photos for a judge’s eyes only,” she adds, “then it can help speed up the processing time in a divorce case. Abuse is not taken lightly here and Carl will not have to agree to a divorce. This shelter has a judge we work very closely with. We can make sure Carl never has access to where you live, and we can also put an order in place so that he’s unable to leave the state of Oregon without the permission of a judge. You have the power now—make sure you remember that,” she says with a serious look in her eyes that makes me wonder if she has ever been in a similar situation. If not, she’s just incredibly talented at her job. I’m beginning to feel more at ease. I think about what she’s said, but decide I don’t want to make any decisions without Marie’s input.

“I know this is a lot to take in. I don’t want to overload you with information, but I do want you to know that you have options. I would also encourage you to file assault charges against Carl. We have a female officer who I can take you to speak with. I can be present if you’d like, or you could even just talk to her so you can understand your options. Just remember, the more action you take against Carl, the more powerless he becomes,” she says sincerely.

I know she just wants to help, and I do want to make sure he stays far away, but what if something slips and he finds out where we are? Then I’ve done more harm than good.

“I’ll give you a moment to process that. As for getting back on your feet, we can certainly help with that. We have a few employers we work with, and we also have grants from the government and private donors to help subsidize housing. We can get you set up in a furnished apartment, where all you have to do is worry about getting back on your feet. Your rent is calculated on what you’re able to pay. It can be as little as one dollar a month. I’m guessing your sister will need to get back to school, and we can help with that, too,” Tara offers.

“She does, and this all sounds wonderful—almost too good to be true. I just want to make sure she’s taken care of. I want to make sure she’s safe,” I say, nodding my head toward Marie. “What about our names? Are we going to have to change them?”

“In cases of extremely violent and possessive partners, I do recommend changing your name, especially where you are still legally married, and he may still have access to some of your information. You can change your whole name if you’d like or just your middle and last name. It’s really up to you. Do you feel comfortable enough telling me your names?” Tara asks.

I am hesitant to share them. Leaving a paper trail Carl could trace us through terrifies me, but she’s promised to keep us safe. I’m going to have to give a little to get the help we need.

“Yes, of course. I’m Brynn, and this is my sister Marie,” I say, smiling weakly. “I can’t imagine calling her anything but Marie, but I’ll leave the choice up to her. “Marie still doesn’t say a word, only nods. As if sensing her discomfort, Tara excuses herself to the bathroom, giving us a moment alone.

“What are you thinking Marie? I’m just a little bit overwhelmed with everything she’s thrown at us. I want to do the right thing, I want to keep us safe, but I’m not really sure what that is yet,” I say, turning myself sideways so I can see her face. She’s got tears in her eyes, and I can tell she’s scared.

Anger boils inside of me, and I wonder how could the world have been so cruel to her? How did she still manage to come out so kind and loving? It’s just not fair. A long strand of blonde hair falls in front of her face, and I reach out and tuck it behind her ear. She seems to find the courage to speak.

“I think we should do everything possible to make sure he not only can’t find us, but that he pays for what he did to you. You’re strong, Brynn, and he might have weakened your spirit, but you’ll bounce back quickly if you’re not living in fear. Fight and fight hard—don’t let him get away with this any longer. If it isn’t you Brynn, it will be someone else,” Marie pleads. I know she’s right. I wouldn’t want Carl to hurt another woman, and I certainly wouldn’t want any man to ever hurt Marie. I need to be an example to her.

Tara comes back in not long after, and we spend the rest of the morning taking photos of my injuries, filling out paperwork, and talking to the judge and police officer at the station. I am uncomfortable with rehashing the details, and for being so weak and not fighting back sooner. Better late than never, though, right? We fill out some forms to change our names and a few other forms Tara promises will strengthen our case. She lets us know that she’ll have an apartment ready for us tomorrow, as well as a job interview, and a doctor’s appointment. She offers the back room in the shelter for us to sleep in tonight, but I want some privacy, and some time alone with Marie. I’m thankful that this is all moving so quickly, though. I definitely did not expect that.

We catch a taxi back to the hotel and book a room before deciding to spend the afternoon shopping. I purchase some new school clothes for Marie and some job interview clothes for myself. I catch myself looking over my shoulder a lot, but the mace Tara provided us with before we left the shelter is in my purse, giving me some peace of mind.

Chapter 5

I wake the next morning at 6:15. Marie and I had stayed up late trying on our few new outfits and practicing what we would tell people at school and work about why we moved to New York. It felt good to just relax and joke around—good to feel human again. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a conversation I didn’t have to tip toe around.

I roll out of bed—still careful of my ribs—and hop into the shower. I let the hot water wash over me and mentally try to prepare myself for the day. I haven’t a clue what the job interview is for, and that makes me anxious. I recall telling Tara that I only have a high school education. I graduated with honors, but that’s not going to prepare me for a job as a legal secretary or a dental assistant. I shake off the worry and finish my shower. Hopefully she finds me something I’ll be able to do competently. I’m not sure if I can handle feeling like a failure again.

I use the hotel’s blow dryer and my curling iron to curl my hair into ringlets in the main room while Marie showers. I don’t want to overdo it with my makeup. I use concealer to hide the remaining bruises on my face and when I’m finished, it’s almost impossible to tell. I apply a light layer of mascara and some clear lip-gloss. My lips are naturally stained to a pink color that I’ve always loved, but Carl despised. He liked me to wear the same burgundy brown color his mother wore. I cringe at the thought.

I pull on a charcoal pencil skirt that Marie convinced me to buy and a white ruffled short-sleeved blouse. I feel a little naked, so I pull on a grey cardigan and pair it with some peep-toed charcoal heels I found on clearance. I feel out of place and a little insecure, and I haven’t even left the hotel yet. Great! I take a look in the full length mirror. My brown hair cascades down past my shoulders in loose curls and I notice something looks off. I grab a clip and pull a few curls away from my face, clipping them back. It’s an improvement, but it still doesn’t help the nervousness coursing through my body. I sigh and start to pack up our things for what I hope is the last time. I’m excited to see our apartment. No matter what it looks like, it’s going to be ours, and that’s all that matters.

Marie emerges from the bathroom dressed and beautiful, as always. She has on a long turquoise shirt and cropped black leggings. Her hair is pulled back into a high pony tail, which accentuates her beautiful high cheek bones—something I’m guessing she got from her father’s side, because Ma certainly didn’t have them, and neither do I. She isn’t starting school until Monday, but she dressed up for our appointments today regardless. Feeling good on the outside, helps with the inside.

“Wow, you look amazing, Brynn,” she boasts. I blush and turn away. It’s hard to accept a compliment, even from my sister. I feel completely undeserving.

“I must look a little like my sister then; she’s the most beautiful person I know, inside and out,” I tell her, attempting to deflect the attention from myself. “We’d better get down to the lobby and check out, though. Tara is meeting us at the new apartment at 8:30, and I want to grab breakfast at that little coffee shop down the street first.”

I attempt to convince myself that I really just want an almond croissant. Deep down, though, I know I’m hoping to catch a glimpse of those emerald green eyes. If only because he’s a treat to my eyes. Looking at him lets me know that I’m not ruined to the male species forever. I’ve never been with anyone other than Carl, and the little physical attraction I had toward him ended the moment he first laid his hands on me.

“I’m sure you just want breakfast,” Marie says skeptically. I roll my eyes and finish packing our bags. We check out for what I hope is the last time and walk to the little coffee shop I now notice is called Frothy Moustache. The line is just as long as it was yesterday, and I find myself looking around to see if green eyes is there, instead of searching for Carl. I smile to myself, this is a small breakthrough, but one nonetheless. Marie spots a table and asks me to surprise her while she sits down to claim our spot. I order two chocolate peppermint lattes and two almond croissants. She needs to try this, and I’m not ready to sample the rest of the menu just yet.