Darling (h.s)

One

I'm sorry.

Two words that mean guilty or pity. Two words that are complete bullshit. And two words I never wanted to hear from his mouth again. Not once have I heard the phrase and actually believed the person to be genuine. The ones who are fools enough to accept them and hope that an ounce of them is sincere get hurt the most.

My intuition on people is never wrong. It's my naivety thinking there's good in everyone that gets me in trouble. My first instinct is usually the right one, and I've now learned my lesson never to expect someone to be different than what they perceive to be.

Fresh cigarettes burn my nose as I navigate the house, pick up empty beer cans, and put them in the trash. Casablanca flashes on the television as his feet kick up against the coffee table. Going in to clean up his plate, he stops me taking a look at my face. His callous hands touch my cheek, and I flinch at the pain.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I promise I won't do it again." 

That's what you said last time and the time before that.

"Okay," I say, getting out of his grasp and taking the plate to the kitchen. Filling the sink up, I wash our dishes. It felt as though hours went by as I stood there, letting my fingers prune up by the cold water.

Snores erupt the house as I put the glasses in the cabinet. Joaquin sprawls out on the couch. He finally passed out. I know he's going to be out a while on a count of how much liquor he consumed.

Rushing into the bedroom, I pull out a suitcase from under the bed. My sore arms fill it up with clothes. I grab my toiletries from the bathroom, pausing as I see the bruise on my cheek, the swelling around my eye, and busted lip in my reflection. My finger touches the sensitive area, and I wince at the pain. I debated if this was the best plan of action the whole day, and most people would say so. However, when I think of all the times I was happy, it outweighs the times I wasn't.

Still, it isn't enough for me to stay.

Funny how things turn out. My first impression of Joaquin was that he was an over pompous, hot-tempered, bad boy, yet I was naive enough to think there was more. He made me believe he could be a sweet and romantic man, but underneath he was exactly what I thought. I guess what you see is what you get.

I stuff everything in my suitcase and zip it up. Slipping off my diamond ring with a tear falling down my cheek, and I place it on the counter. I wanted nothing more than to be wrong about him and that everything would work out in the end for us. Maybe it would if I stay and we talk this out, but I'm afraid if I stay, I won't make it out the door alive one day.

Grabbing enough money from the savings jar, I take my things and sneak out the back door. As the stars beam bright above, I walk away from the house that's been my home for over a year. I head to the nearest train station and never turned back. I know a plane would be the quickest escape, but I'm afraid of flying, and buying the plane ticket would use up the majority of the money I had on me. The train was cheaper, and I have enough in case there's a hitch in my plan.

From Chicago to Los Angeles, I tried concealing my bruises on my face, wrists, and thighs. The less attention to me, the better. I wear shades and a floppy hat during the day, it was mid-spring, so it wasn't out of the ordinary. At night I take the window seat so no one would see my black eye from the left side.

Just have to make it to Kerry, and everything will be alright, I thought to myself numerous times on my journey. Once I saw my big sister, I could start a new life and forget all about my last one.

***
By Monday evening, I make it to my sister's house in the outskirts of Los Angeles. She wasn't expecting me and had company over. Looking upon my face, Kerry's eyes went to ecstatic to see me to an uncontrollable rage. I diss all her questions as her guest peep their eyes to us. Growing rather uncomfortable, I lower my head and excuse myself to the bathroom when they start staring. My bruises look better than they were three days ago, but it doesn't take an idiot to figure out what happened.