You Go Girl

Olivia

"The lady in front of you already paid for your food," the man at the counter said, passing me a grease soaked paper sack.

I looked around and spotted a police officer walking away towards the oak. My oak. I felt suddenly compelled to thank her.

I thanked the man at the counter and turned to follow the woman.

"Mind if I sit here?" I asked.

I should just turn and run now. If he ever saw me socializing with a police officer, I might as well be dead. Maybe, she'd just forget about it.

"Thank you for paying for my meal," I said quietly.

"No problem. Someone paid for my meal, I decided that I was having a pretty good day, so I decided to spread the kindness."

I wanted to slap my self in the face. I just had to open my stupid mouth and go rambling like an idiot. I read the name tag on the officer's uniform. R. Lara.

She reached her hand up and I brace myself for a hit- something that has become second nature lately. But she just brushes a piece of hair back behind her ear. I give a short breath of relief, and I notice that I've stepped back a bit.

A brief frown passes over her face, but quickly chansges back to a neutral expression.

"Please, sit down. I insist," she pat the ground next to her.

Something about her made me feel safe so, almost against my will, I sat down next to her.

"My name is Rachel. Rachel Lara," she extended her hand and I tentatively shook it, withdrawing my hand as soon as the handshake was over. She briefly frowned again before remasking her emotions. But I saw it- the flicker of suspicion.

"I'm Olivia Bowers," I said. Shit, I thought, why did I give her my real name?

"It's nice to meet you," she said, the ends of her mouth turning up a bit in what could be a smile.

"You too," I mumbled quietly. I let my long hair fall in front of my face, blocking out all peripheral vision, and just focused on my sketch book, every once in a while reaching for a chip out of my bag.

"Wow, you're really good," Rachel said, leaning over a bit closer to see my drawing. Reflexively, I jerked away from her.

"I'm sorry. I should've asked. Are you okay?" Rachel asked, and I shut my eyes, wishing she would get up and just walk away. I should've sat somewhere else. He will see me talking to her for sure.

"I'm fine. Just a little private about my artwork is all," I managed to whisper.

"No, Olivia. Are you okay?" She whispered, a serious look on her face. She glanced around, her eyes wide.

"I am fine. Perfect. Nothing is wrong. I would just appreciate it if you mind your own business is all," I snapped, with more confidence than I've had in a long time.

"Okay, I'm going to leave but..." she pulled a notepad and pencil out of a holster on her belt, and jotted something down before ripping out the page. "This is my work and cell number if you ever need anything."

She handed the paper to me, and I stared at it for a moment. Her hand wavered for a second, but I snatched the paper from her hand, sliding it inside the plastic cover of my notebook. He never touches my sketchbook because it's the one thing he doesn't know about.

"Thank you for your concern, but I am fine. Have a nice day," I snapped.

She frowned at me, but eventually stood up and walked away. I watched her as she grew further and further away, until eventually, I couldn't see her anymore.

I glanced down at my sketchbook, and then back at my watch.

"Shit," I said to myself. I have to be home in five minutes. How long did it take to get here? I am dead.

I hurriedly collected my things and stood up, walking fast across the lawn. If he gets there before me, I am as good as dead.

I quickened my pace a bit, breaking out into a slow jog, not caring that my thin sundress might be bouncing a bit too much as I ran.

I bounded up the steps to the apartment, pausing for a moment outside the door to shove my in the hiding spot (in a hidden compartment behind the fire extinguisher) and collecting myself. Tentatively, I turned back to the doorknob and turned. Locked. If it was locked, surely that meant I had beat him home. I reached into my dress pocket and grabbed the keys, jamming the apartment key into the door and turned.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up as I slipped inside and gently shut the door behind me. The TV was on. I know I hadn't left it on when I left. He was here.

My hands began shaking, my palms sweaty, and I wiped them on my dress. I immediately headed over to the kitchen area and began quietly fixing dinner.

"Well, well, well. Look who's home!"

I closed my eyes and prayed briefly, until I turned around to face the voice behind me.

Before I even had time to think, a hand was making contact with my face.

I winced, and brought my hand to my cheek.

"Where were you?"

"I was at the grocery store," I lied, hoping it was believable enough.

"Oh yeah? Where are they?"

"I already put them away, babe," I lied again.

"You must think I'm some sort of fool. 'Oh, look, it's Darrin! He's so stupid, I bet I could have an entire affair behind his back and he would never figure it out!' Bullshit, Olivia! I know that's where you've been, you backstabbing bitch!"

"Baby, you know I would never cheat on you. I love you so much," my eyes flicked to the near empty beer bottle in his hand.

"You're right. I'm so sorry, I know you love me. I love you too. I'm sorry baby," Darrin apologized, setting the bottle on the counter.

I let out a sigh of relief, and took a step toward him. He wasn't always horrible. Sometimes, he treated me like a queen.

But, as I leaned into his chest, clothed with a white wife-beater (oh how fitting), he grabbed me by my hair.

"I love you, you know that, but we need to establish some ground rules again. Number one- no LYING to me about where you've been and why you weren't here when I got home from work!" He flung me by my hair across the kitchen, and I stumbled backwards until I fell and hit my head on the counter.

I whimpered and squeezed my eyes shut as the room began to spin.

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just wanted you to learn your lesson. Come here," Darrin gathered me up in his arms and carried me to the old moth-eaten sofa in the living room.

He grabbed a pillow and set it under my back and lay me down.

"Let me see your head babe," he said, and gently parted my hair where I hit my head. I whimpered in pain, and he apologized.

"Oh, Liv, I'm sorry. You cut your head, but it's not deep enough to need stitches."

He kneeled down to where he was face to face with me. I could smell the thick, pungent smell of alcohol on his breath. He placed a hand on my upper arm and began to twist hard.

"I love you, but if you tell anyone what actually happened, you'll pay, you hear me?"

I nodded my head quickly, and his hand let go of my arm.

"Good," he stood up. "Now, go take care of dinner. I'm starving."

(Shailene Woodley as Olivia Bowers!)