“One night after I’d lived with him about a year, we were getting ready for a fundraising gala. We were arguing over a broken platter that happened earlier in the day. I accidentally ran into Gretchen, the live-in cook, as she was carrying the platter towards the dining room to serve Garrett and the campaign team. It crashed to the floor, breaking into a million pieces and sending the food flying. I tried to help her clean it up, but she wouldn’t let me. Garrett came into the kitchen and glared at me. He never said a word in front of Gretchen or the men at the table, but I could tell by the look he was giving me that we’d be discussing it later.
“And discuss it, we did. I tried to argue that it was an accident, which just seemed to enrage him further. It was the first time,” she whispers. “It was the first time he hit me.”
I tighten my hold on her as she says the words. Knowing that some jackass somewhere has put his hands on her, repeatedly, makes me see red. An ugly, vile shade of red that makes me want to do inhuman things to anyone who crosses me. I struggle to keep myself in check as Lia continues.
“He grabbed me by the upper arms and shook me until I practically saw stars. The blow came to my chest. It felt like my lungs exploded. I couldn’t breathe; I couldn’t see straight. I fell to the ground in a heap of nothing.”
“How often did he hit you?” I ask, not really wanting to know the answer, but knowing that I needed to ask.
“Not often at first. And he never hit me or marked me where I couldn’t cover it up with clothes or makeup. Markings to my face were rare, surprisingly. He didn’t want anyone to know what he was doing to me.
“Afterwards, he always came back with an elaborate apology which usually included flowers, a romantic dinner, or a weekend away.”
“How long were you with him?” I mumble through clenched teeth.
“Four years,” she says.
“Four years?” A fresh wave of anger courses through my body and radiates off the walls as they close in on me. I want to slam my fist into the wall and follow it up with my fist to Garrett’s face. I want to maim. Annihilate. End him.
“Yeah. I always thought it would get better. I thought that he loved me. Well, he loved the control. I knew it deep down in my heart that our relationship wasn’t right. After several unsuccessful attempts to leave, which resulted in more abuse, I realized I needed a food proof plan. I planned it out the best I could for months, knowing that the opportunity would one day present itself.”
“When did it? When did that opportunity present itself?” I ask.
“Ten months ago. We were preparing for the Governor’s Ball, just days after Warren won his latest bid for Governor in the November election. He came home after celebrating all afternoon with his team and I could smell the whiskey on him before he even came into the room. I was completely ready since we were five minutes away from when we needed to leave. Garrett stumbled into our bedroom and glared at me. I had no clue what I had done this time so I tried to busy myself by gathering up his tuxedo for him and taking it into the bathroom.
“When I came out of the room, he stalked towards me and grabbed me around the neck. My dress was long and had a full collar because I was hiding the marks he left the night before. He squeezed until I became dizzy and almost passed out. It was the first time I prayed for it to be over. I wanted him to squeeze the life out of me so I could finally be free.
“When he let go, I stumbled backwards only to get a backhand upside the cheek. God that hurt so bad. I stumbled on my expensive designer heels towards the door, trying to flee his raging hands. He stormed after me and grabbed me just when I reached the top of the stairs. I stumbled in my heels and made a grab for him, knowing that I was going to fall down the stairs. He actually stepped back. My eyes locked on his cold ones as I started to fall.” Lia sniffles as I reach a hand around and stroke her wet cheek.
“I woke up later in the hospital. I had cracked or broken ribs, I’m sure, but I knew that this was my big chance. Garrett was required to make an appearance at the fundraiser so while he was gone, I slipped the dress back on and snuck out of the hospital.”
“Damn, baby,” I moan as I offer all of the comfort I have in my embrace. I don’t even attempt to hide the tears in my eyes or the ones that escape down my cheek.
“Sadly, that wasn’t my first trip down the stairs, but I imagine you’ve heard enough for tonight,” she says.
“Fuck, Lia. I don’t know what to say,” I whisper.
“I don’t need you to say anything, Nate. Just hold me,” she replies.