Patrice's Story (A "Living With The Choices We Make" Novella) ✔️

15 - Turning Point

This chapter is dedicated to memenaina -- thanks for being so patient during my vacation. I had a great time :)

15 - Turning Point

I toss and turn, the pain worsening as darkness creeps through the curtains in my room. My wrist throbs so badly that every flinch drives tears to my eyes. At some point, my mom comes home, but she picks a fight with Marcus before I can reach out to her for help. The tears begin to fall. The loneliness is overwhelming and I'm barely able to breathe.

When the pain becomes unbearable, I grab my phone off the nightstand and call Rena. She was abused herself, so must understand what I'm going through. The rings carry on forever until she finally picks up.

"Hello." Her voice is thick with sleep.

"Rena, it's Patrice," I press through heavy sobs.

"Patrice! What's wrong?"

A groan of despair springs from my lips. "It's my dad. He beat me real bad and I think he broke my wrist. It hurts so much and I don't know what to do."

"Where are you now?"

"At home. My mom and dad are fighting." The words clash with a cry from my mother. "It's bad, Rena."

Another cry is almost drowned out by Marcus's yelling before my mom has a go at him again.

"You motherfucking dick. I hate you, Marcus. Marrying you was the worst mistake of my life."

A loud shriek puts an end to her foul mouth.

No sound drifts through the line and I already fear the call was disconnected when Rena speaks again. "Hold on, Patrice." The words are flat without a hint of emotion. The phone drops before the click of a door leaves nothing but silence.

All I can do is wait. After what seems an eternity, Rena is back. "Patrice, I'm gonna come and get you and then take you to the hospital."

Marcus will freak if she shows up here. "I don't know if that's such a good idea."

"Trust me, it's for the best."

"Honestly—"

"Don't worry, it'll be okay. Nothing bad will happen. Now what's your address?"

I should decline but can't handle this pain. Without medical attention, I'm fucked. "We live on Sheridan Road in Winnetka. I'll text you the exact address."

Typing proves incredibly difficult and by the time I'm done, I sink back into my pillows, my shirt soaked with sweat. Closing my eyes, I try to breathe into the pain. The tears keep rolling until exhaustion hitme like a brick and I drift in an out of an uneasy sleep.

When Alyssa tears the door open, I sit up in bed with a startle. A wave of pain chokes my breath as I fight the dancing black spots.

"What do you want, squirt?"

"Dad told me to get you. Your friend is here."

"Rena?"

She nods. "I didn't hear all of it, but they were fighting. Dad looked really mad."

I heave myself up with a groan. "Can you help me get dressed?"

Minor explosions are set off in my body while I change into black sweats and a lose fitting sweater. Alyssa helps me to pull my hair into a ponytail and ties my shoes. When I search for my face in the mirror, I cringe. My face is puffy from crying—I'm a total mess.