Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
I don't get the feeling that his knowledge of what happened to me is going to be used against me. I don't think Max would be so careless in his research that it led Graham to Farmington either.
I keep my eyes on the TV, the urge to explain coming over me.
Usually, I wouldn't offer a thing. I'd redirect and avoid the question altogether, so wanting him to know my reasoning is incredibly unfamiliar to me.
Instead of digging in and refusing, I open my mouth, the words just coming naturally as if I'm talking to a therapist or a close friend, two things I haven't had in a very long time.
"I reached out to a shelter before attempting to leave Graham," I begin, my eyes dropping to my lap as my fingers tangle together.
Talking about what happened that day is more than a little difficult. I tried explaining it to my parents while I was still in the hospital, and at first they listened, but as time passed, they were less inclined to see my side of things. I think that hurt almost as much as the physical pain of being assaulted. I fully expected them to be on my side through it all, but they were quick to put distance between themselves and those events. It felt like a betrayal, and still to this day, I haven't forgiven them.
"I was waiting for a woman from the shelter to pick me up when he came home from a trip he was supposed to be taking and found me packed and ready to go," I continue. "After his sentencing, I knew I couldn't stay in town. I went to another shelter in another state, praying no one recognized me. I never share much about my story because I don't want people to know who I am, but there were so many brave women there. Their stories were so sad. I heard a lot of my own journey of abuse in their words. Being at that first shelter helped me realize and understand the depth of my abuse. I knew what Graham had been doing wasn't okay. I knew I had to get away, but I had no idea the extent of trauma that could be caused without a single hit or any type of physical abuse. Graham wasn't physically violent with me until the day he came home early. The helplessness and hopelessness just seemed to cling to them. I wanted to help them in any way I could."
"They're lucky to have you," he offers.
"I chose places that weren't advertised. The ones you had to know someone to get into because I knew those would be harder to find. I mean, I understand that most of those places, by design, are non-profit organizations, and anyone with minimal knowledge could do a quick online search for their registrations. But it felt safer to me than working anywhere else."
"I think it was a very smart decision," he says, an edge to his tone that makes me think he's annoyed that places like that have to exist in the first place. "It had to have been hard to leave home."
I shake my head. "It was somehow the easiest and hardest decision of my life. I know that doesn't make much sense."
"It makes perfect sense," he says. "I know what you mean."
I swallow, a bubble of pain and loss swelling in my throat.
"I've spent so many hours wondering how things might've been different if I had only made different choices," I say as I look up at him. "I didn't tell him I was pregnant. Would it have been different if he had known?"
He leans forward in the recliner, elbows resting on his knees. "No, Juliet. You may not have been hurt that day, but abusive men don't stop just because children are involved."
"The courts made me look like an evil person. What kind of woman lies about being pregnant? If I didn't tell him such big news, then what am I lying about to get him in trouble? I think even the prosecutor believed that it was my fault that I lost the babies."
I watch his face and see no sign of surprise. He already knew I was pregnant, that the twins didn't survive the attack. All I did was tell them my real name. If they had even done a small amount of research after I left that interview, they would've found all the ugly details of my past.
"You did what you thought was best," he assures me.
"And it came with catastrophic consequences," I mutter.
He sits in silence, and I'm grateful he doesn't point blame or tell me it could've always ended that way, even if I had made different choices. People can try to help with words, but they never seem to land the way they want them to.