x
‘VINCENT, STOP. IT’S FINE, I’ll go with you, just don’t hurt him.’ I begged him, standing between my ex-boyfriend and my best friend. ‘Please.’ I bit my lip just to stop the tears from falling, but it was no use. Vincent had won, like he always did and I was powerless to stop him.
He grabbed me by the hand and hauled me away from my best friend, from the weeks worth of happiness I’d been enjoying. All I could do was turn back and look at him as my tears finally fell. I mouthed the words ‘I’m sorry,’ but Harley had already turned his back on me.
On the train ride home, Vincent didn’t answer a single question I asked about how he knew where to find me, or why he’d come to get me. In a way it made me feel uneasy, like he’d spent weeks spying on me or if he’d used a tracker on my phone. Part of me didn’t want to know his answer.
I spent the journey staring out the window, wishing I had the confidence to stand up to Vincent back at the convention hall. I had my best friend backing my corner, why didn’t I go with him? Why did I choose my ex? I couldn’t begin to imagine how Harley was feeling right now. Then my mind wandered to the rest of the group, what were they going to say when they found out the situation. I’d let them all down.
‘There must be something you want. You came all the way to Paris just to see me return home, why?’ I asked him, but I didn’t dare look at him.
Vincent ran a hand through his hair and groaned, ‘Do I need a reason to want my girl home?’ he queried.
‘I’m not your girl. You made that decision over a month ago, when you let me know you cheated,’ I said, but I quickly regretted my decision to speak up when he glared at me. ‘What made you change your mind?’
Vincent took my hand in his, and everything within my body was fighting to pull away but we were in such a close proximity that I couldn’t get away and instead accepted my fate. ‘We were good together, Bonnie. Surely even you could understand that. I made a mistake, and for cheating I can’t apologise enough. It was one time when I was drunk, it will never happen again.’
I didn’t trust the words that were coming out of his mouth, I didn’t even want to accept them, but for the sake of my sanity I just nodded. He continued to talk to me about how he wanted things to change when we returned home. I just kept bobbing my head along to agree with him, even though my mind had completely checked out, to the point I wasn’t even listening to a single word coming out of his mouth.
We returned home, using my key to get into the studio. Home sweet home, or it would’ve been if I wasn’t returning with my ex-boyfriend. Just the mere thought of him around me was making me sick to my stomach.
Vincent started listing the things that I needed to change for us to try again. The first being that I needed to remove myself, so there was no association with the group I had disappeared out of the country with. According to him they were not good people for me, and they should’ve taken more care considering my poor mental health.
I took my phone out of my bag, and removed myself from the group, both on the messenger app and our gaming forum. ‘Satisfied?’ I asked, showing him what I’d done.
‘How do I know you won’t try contacting them again?’ Vincent said slyly, ‘I think you should delete and block every one of their numbers. Can’t have them leading you astray again, can we?’
I wanted to scream, instead I just bit my lip fighting back my tears as I did exactly as he asked while he watched over my shoulder.
‘See, that wasn’t so hard was it,’ he said, running his hand through my hair.
I hated the way he was touching me again like everything was okay, like the slate between us was wiped clean and he was off the hook for everything he’d done to me. I sobbed, casting my phone to one side. What was the point of having it if I couldn’t contact anyone? I was back to being his caged little bird, too scared of her own shadow to speak up.
Poppy had been right, I should’ve spoken up about the issues sooner. I should’ve seen someone about the situation I was in. But if I had, would things be different then they were now?
‘Right,’ he whispered in my ear. ‘I’m going to jump in the shower, are you joining me?’
Bile rose up in my throat, I couldn’t think of anything worse. I shook my head and forced myself to smile, ‘I’ve got a better idea. I’ll clear this luggage away and then I’ll make a start on dinner. You enjoy your shower.’
Vincent’s sly smile widened, ‘Perfect.’ He planted a slimy kiss on my cheek and disappeared into the bathroom, bolting the door behind him.
I immediately wiped his saliva from my face and hurried to unpack my luggage so he wouldn’t see the small haul I’d managed to squeeze inside. That was another one of Vincent’s changes, he wanted me to stop playing video games and stop buying useless rubbish. By this he’d meant manga and plushies but I wasn’t comfortable changing who I was to suit him.
Luggage hidden away carefully, I made dinner. Something simple I knew I’d be able to keep down, despite nausea hitting me like a truck. That evening we ate in silence, and went to bed like a normal couple. Yet when I woke up the next day, I hoped it’d all be a nightmare, but history repeated itself. I awoke to Vincent shouting my name, demanding to know where things were and made me feel stupid when I didn’t know the answer in my sleepy state.
Nothing had changed. Why did I think it ever would?
The same routine repeated itself over the next few weeks, with Vincent becoming more verbally abusive towards me. I slipped back into old habits, becoming a shell of the woman I once was, and unable to have a life of my own. I solely existed to do what he needed like a live-in maid.
By the time a month was up, I’d lost all sense of myself. I didn’t know who I was anymore. He’d asked me several times to be intimate in the bedroom, but each time I made up some excuse that I wasn’t feeling well and pretty soon he stopped asking. He started to complain that I wasn’t making an effort towards our new start and after a while I stopped listening to what he said.
One day whilst I was washing up after dinner, I finally snapped.
‘You could try and at least make an effort,’ Vincent said, sipping on his beer. ‘I’ve tried everything to make this relationship work, but it doesn’t feel like you are.’
I continued washing the cutlery, pretending I hadn’t heard him.
‘Did you hear what I said?’ he asked, his tone becoming more hostile and something I’d grown accustomed to. ‘Are you even listening to me?’ He threw his bottle, the glass shattered against the wall. Within an instant he was next to me, grabbing my cheeks and forcing me to look him in the eyes. ‘I asked you a question. I expect an answer.’
I spat at him, unable to choke out the words to defend myself. As he wiped his eyes, I rammed my elbow into his stomach and pushed him away from me. ‘You need to leave,’ I said, searching around the kitchen for my phone.
Vincent doubled over but soon got up and grinned wickedly, ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
I found a tin I hadn’t used for dinner and hurled it at him, ‘I said get out.’ I screamed, tears were streaming out my cheeks. ‘I can’t live like this anymore, you can’t keep doing this to me Vincent. I need you to leave.’
He tried to talk his way out of it, but I held up a hand. ‘Just get your stuff and leave before I ring the police. I won’t be asking twice.’
Vincent scowled at me, but reluctantly did what I asked of him. It took him a few minutes to gather his things, but once his rucksack was on his back, he turned to me and said. ‘I won’t forget this, Bonnie. You will never have anyone as good as me.’
‘You’re right,’ I replied, almost too smugly. ‘I’ve found better.’
Vincent snarled at my admission, and slammed the door behind him.
I collapsed onto the kitchen floor, pulling my knees into my chest and cradling myself. I had found better than my ex-boyfriend, if only I hadn’t been so stupid and lost him before I’d gotten a chance to tell him how I really felt. I sat there on the cold floor allowing myself to cry out the pain. I’d spent a month struggling to find my voice. Struggling to stand up against my abuser, and in the process, lost my entire friendship group and the one person in this world I actually cared about.
After the mess was cleared up to prevent any further accidents, I took myself to bed and laid there until I exhausted myself from crying. I missed my friends, I missed my old life, but mostly I missed Harley.
The next morning, I found myself slipping back into the negative routines I’d started when Vincent left me the first time. But this time, I’d really only had myself to blame. I should’ve been stronger, I should’ve stood my ground much sooner. It had already been a whole month since I’d seen or spoken to any of my friends. I wondered how they were all doing and picked up my phone to draft a quick text to the girls. Until I remembered Vincent forcing me to not only block but to delete their numbers as well. I couldn’t contact any of them freely. I threw the phone across the room and cried until my eyes were sore.
For days I continued this same routine, wallowing in self-pity until I’d finally had enough of myself. I found my phone, and thought about what Poppy had said. I needed to reach out for support. I made myself some tea and got myself into a comfortable spot on the sofa to make a phone call I’d been putting off for a while.
‘Hi,’ I said, when the woman answered the phone. ‘I’d like to refer myself for conversation therapy.’ The nurse asked me a few personal details, mainly my name, date of birth and my address. ‘I’ve been suffering with my mental health for a while now, but I think…’ I struggled to say the words out loud but I needed to have courage. ‘I think I’m a victim of domestic abuse. I’d like to talk to someone about that if it’s possible.’ I bit my lip and hummed along to the rest of the questions until I was booked into my first appointment.
When I got off the phone I felt a weight had lifted from my shoulders, that somehow I could breathe easily again. It might’ve been a small step, but it was taking me in the right direction. I hauled myself off the sofa and decided to draw myself a nice bubbly bath as a reward for taking on the scary phone call I’d been putting off.
‘Little wins,’ I told myself smiling.
‘This is going to be the start of a new me,’ I told myself as I submerged myself under the water. ‘First I’ll tackle therapy, and then I’ll try and patch things up with Harley.’
I pampered myself in the bath, using all the nice products I’d used when my best friend had forced me into self-care mode. After I got out and put on some comfortable clothes, I booted up my computer to check out train tickets to visit Harley. If I booked in advance I’d be able to get a ticket within my budget at least. Once I’d secured a ticket, I worked on a small speech. Drafting a thousand times over until I got it right.
My first therapy session soon came around, and I sat in a white-washed room staring at the nurse in front of me. She explained the type of therapy she felt was right for my circumstances, and we discussed various options, if I wanted to try the talking therapy first or if I wanted to try medication too. I chose the former, feeling it was the best for me.
We talked for the full two hours, discussing the situation with Vincent. How he used to treat me, what had happened the first time he left and what I’d done as a reaction. She said my actions were normal for someone struggling with a mix of anxiety and depression, that my feelings were valid and that she was proud of me for finally standing up for myself and taking proper action in getting the help I needed.
I explained it was all thanks to my friendship group, but towards the end of the session I admitted that I felt I’d lost those I trusted due to my own actions. She told me it might take time to rebuild those bridges but to not give up hope.
We continued these sessions once a week for the duration of a month, and soon I found myself talking more than the nurse was. She said I was making great progress, but didn’t want to end our sessions until I was comfortable to make that decision on my own accord. We agreed to continue to meet once a week for the foreseeable future.
October soon rolled around, the month I was due to visit Harley. I had no way of contacting him to let him know I was going to visit. Instead, I took a leap of faith and jumped on the train. I had one shot to apologise, and one shot to tell him how I really felt. I wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip through my fingers, not again.
I arrived in Birmingham shortly after midday. I recalled where his flat building was located, remembering it was close by to his work. His flat manager buzzed me inside the building and informed me what floor he was located on. I stood outside his door, reciting the words I’d planned to say, but at that moment they’d completely escaped my mind, and my nerves took over. I had to do this, I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t. I took a deep breath and knocked loudly on his door.
There was fumbling about, like someone who wasn’t expecting company. A small meow, and a couple of curse words before the door finally opened. Harley stood before me, looking more tired than I remembered with a chunky calico cat under his arm. He looked shocked I was standing on his doorstep, barely able to choke out my name.
‘Bonnie.’
ns 15.158.61.48da2
