Chapter 2

The memories of last night overwhelm me. Things should have been perfect and yet.

I turn the oven on low to keep our dinner warm. I look around for anything else I might have missed. I have put the laundry away and dressed nice, neat, and clean to Dean’s liking, but still, I feel like I’ve missed something. I fidget on the spot; this red piece of lingerie he wanted me to wear is entirely impractical—the slightest movement and the tiny string bites into the crest of my arse.

But if I want to have a good night, a peaceful night, I must follow Dean’s every command. I don’t think my body can take another night of abuse like last night; I’m still very sore. I start to fidget again, I want to make him happy I do, but sex with Dean isn’t like it used to be. Ha! Used to be, I don’t think he has ever been gentle.

I bite my lip nervously, “Everything is going to be okay”, I whisper to myself.

The door slams open and immediately closed, “Where the fuck are you?” Dean yells, “Fucking good for nothing whore.” He mutters under his breath, “Lillian!” he shouts. I hear him shuck his heavy boots off and dump his bag to the floor.

Tears threaten, but I blink them away, not allowing even one to fall; it will only aggravate him if he sees me crying already.

“I’m in the kitchen, Dean, and dinner is ready.”

“What crap did you cook me tonight?” he rounds the corner and enters the kitchen. He looks me up and down with a scowl, “What the fuck you wearing?” he asks, disgust evident in his voice; he opens the fridge and takes out a beer, “And why the fuck is dinner not on the fucking table already?” he points at the table like I’m an idiot.

“What the hell did you do all day?” he slams his beer on the table and takes a seat, “Always sitting on that fat arse of yours doing nothin’. Look at this place; it’s a fucking filthy pigsty.”

He continues to go on and on about how disgusting I am and how disgusting the house is, and this is why we never have friends or family over all the while I smile and nod in agreement and apologised profusely while serving our dinner.

Don’t cry, Lilly. I tried, I really tried to get the house sparkling clean, but it’s still filthy like he said. He always knows best. I’ll do better tomorrow, I promise myself. 

He snorts, “You honestly think I’m going to sit here and eat dinner with you at this fucking table?” he laughs derisively, “Don’t be a stupid fucking cunt”

He points to the floor, “Sit and eat off the fucking floor. Maybe you’ll scrub it better tomorrow.” he tips my plate upside down, my roast chicken, gravy and vegetables splatter on the floor, “Don’t forget your fork” he flings it to the ground.

I sit on the floor staring at the food; I need to do better. I know I can do better. I wish Dean would tell me how..

“Eat your fucking food, or I will force it down your fucking throat”, he sneers

I start eating as he talks about his day at the garage. I stiffen when I hear him put his knife and fork down on the plate, I look up through my lashes to gauge his mood and find him smiling at me, “Come here, my sweet girl” he pets his lap for me to sit on.

Inwardly I shudder. I know what’s coming, and especially when Dean’s in this kind of mood, I swallow the food I put in my mouth and the foreboding lump with it; standing, I cautiously walk towards him, he grabs my wrist and tugs me down onto his lap.

“Dinner was lovely”, he whispers against my neck; his fingers stroke my skin near the collar of my shirt.

I start to fidget; I’ve picked up this nervous habit since Dean began to do this to me.

“I’m sorry, sweet Lilly. I’ve had a fucked-up day at work” he pulls me closer, tucking my head under his chin, he cradles me, rocking me back and forth. It's funny how I used to crave these arms and how safe they made me feel, and it’s these very same arms and hands that have hurt me so much. 

“I know you tried and I know you will do better. I love you. My sweet, sweet Lilly,” he moves me off his lap and spins me around, “I see you're wearing my gift”, he circles one of my nipples with the tip of his finger and then pinches hard, I wince, and he grins.

“Come”, he stands, “Let me make it up to you.”

I almost cringe outwardly but thank god I keep it in. I don’t want to do this. I place a fake smile on my face and look up at him with what I hope is adoration; Something I don’t feel anymore, “We should have dessert while it’s still fresh and warm. I know how you don’t like it going soggy,” I say, pulling away from him and walking towards the cupboard to retrieve the dessert bowls. That’s something else Dean taught me is how to lie through my teeth, even with him. I wouldn’t have to lie but sex isn’t supposed to be harrowing or abusive, and I mean torturous in all sense of the word. Of course he says it’s BDSM which is an acceptable terminology if it were consensual and for the record it’s not. Dean can be undeniably sadistic, and it’s a thousand times worse when he’s upset with me, and I can tell he is very much upset with me tonight. 

“You don’t love me?” he whispers sadly. I whip around and glance up at him; he brushes my hair away from my eyes.

“O-Of course, I love you” I stroke the side of his face tenderly. I just don’t want to have sex with you, I say to myself.

“You know I would never hurt you? I could never hurt you. You are my everything” he picks me up tenderly and walks us to our bedroom. Maybe it’s going to be different this time, he’s never really tender with me anymore, but as we enter our bedroom, he leaves the room dark. It’s just how he likes it. I wonder if darkness makes it easier for him to do the depraved shit he does to me, but then again, he also likes to do this in the light too.

“Dean. I love you. I also love making you happy, and you won’t be happy if your dessert is a mess” I force a giggle; he likes when I giggle.

He huffs and pulls me down onto the bed.

“I really don’t want to do this right now, Dean.” I plead warily. I don’t want to set him off again, but god, I don’t want to do this.

“Baby, one day you will be my wife, and you need to start acting like one now. I’ve done everything for you, I pay for everything, I look after you, don’t I?” I nod my head, but he can’t see it in the dark, “Don’t I?” he growls. He hates repeating himself.

“Y-yes”

“Well, now I need you to give a little in return. Needs are to be met, and you will meet mine,” he says ominously.

“Please, Dean, let’s just-” my words cut off when he stuffs one of his dirty socks in my mouth; I gag instantly.

“This will keep you quiet”, he grunts as I struggle under him. He grabs my arms roughly and shakes me. “No struggling”, he threatens. “Or I’ll restrain you.”

I immediately stop struggling; the last thing I want is to be tied up again. The last time Dean left me restrained for an entire day, it was humiliating. I remember when he came home, and he helped me out of my own filth. I’ll never get the echo of his cruel laughter out of my head again.

But I understand why he did it. It was my punishment. I hadn’t washed his uniform right away that evening; instead, I fell asleep on the sofa waiting for the machine to finish. I’ve never made that mistake again.   

“This won’t hurt a bit, my sweet, sweet Lilly”, he whispers in my ear; he moves and bites down hard on my breast, the sock muffles my screams. He leans up and laughs in my face as he struggles to get out of his jeans.

“You’re going to fucking love this”, he leers as he rises and slams into me roughly over and over again. The sock continues to muffle my screams. Tears run down my face, snot dribbles from my nose as he continues to force himself inside of me over and over again. I can see his sadistic smile in the little bit of light coming from the hallway into our bedroom. He starts laughing again when he sees the drool running out of my mouth and dripping on my chest.

He grabs something from the side table. I tense, “Don’t worry, baby. We’ve done this before”, something cold and hard nudges at my arse. I shake my head and mumble, “No, no. Please”

He slams the cold, hard object into my arse, and I scream as fresh tears drip down the sides of my face. “See, baby, I told you,” he whispers, licking my tears, “I love it when you cry for me. So much passion.”

I move my head, but he grabs my chin, ripping the sock out of my mouth and forcing his tongue down my throat, choking me.

He keeps pumping himself and the object inside me, “Next time, I’m going to make you choke on my big fat cock”, he groans as he finishes, “Fuck Lilly, you are a shitty fucking lay”, he pulls out but leaves the object inside me.

“Clean yourself up. You, stupid bitch” he snarls.

I lay on the bed as still as I can until he leaves the room. I pull my legs up and take the object from my ass slowly; the burning pain makes me grit my teeth. I bring the thing to my face to see what it is, a fucking beer bottle.

I throw it on the bed, humiliated and disgusted with myself. Curling up into a ball, I sob. I sob for the woman I used to be, the woman I am now and the man I once loved.

“Stop your fucking crying!” Dean shouts, switching the light on, “Look at you, fuck, you have to change the sheets; you made a fucking mess. If you had just laid still, you wouldn’t have made such a mess.”

I look down at the sheets and see a lot of blood, “S-s-sorry” I move off the bed, trying not to wince at the pain. “I’ll clean this up.”

“Make sure you clean yourself up too. You look fucking pitiful,” Dean snaps, walking out the door.

I strip the bed, thankful that the blood only soaked to the mattress protector and not the mattress itself. Quickly I get new sheets and make the bed up, the pain is excruciating, but he won’t allow me to see a doctor, not after what happened the last time with the police and everything. I take a couple of aspirins and go to the bathroom.

Taking a deep breath and looking in the mirror, my eyes are swollen and red from crying, and my nose is bleeding. I have bruises from when Dean stuffed the sock in my mouth. My neck looks black and blue; I don’t recall him touching my neck. I have bruises on my arms and my breast, and there are little pools of blood from where he bit me. I have bruises between my thighs, and I’m still bleeding.

I ignore the sorry looking girl staring back at me. She’s an idiot; she should have known better than to move as she did. She should have done better with her chores. She deserved it for not being good enough and not meeting his needs when he asked for it. If she had, it wouldn’t be so bad right now.

I set the temperature to a scolding hot and sit down on the shower floor, rocking back and forth for comfort. God, I should've known better. After a while I get up and wash and turn the shower off. Ashamed of myself, I turn from the stupid bitch in the mirror and dry myself. I grab a panty liner from the cupboard and get dressed. I open the door slightly and check to see where he is. I hear the TV on in the lounge room.

I sigh with relief and head for our bedroom, “Where do you think you’re going so fast?” he grabs my elbow and spins me around, “Jesus look at that face.”

I look away in shame, “Hey, don’t worry, my sweet Lilly, I’m going to make it all nice and better.” He drags me back to the bedroom, and this time I don’t bother stopping the tears and I don’t bother fighting it.

The bus arrives at my stop, and I get off, trudging my way to my mother’s house. It’s a quaint little house, One master, the other room my sister and I shared, but thankfully for a small place, it has two and a half baths. Three women and two toilets is everything in a household.

The kitchen and dining room are combined, and then there's the lounge room and small sunroom in the back. The laundry is in an enclosed veranda on the back of the house. Mum has only one dream, her dream home. I wish I would be here when my Mum’s dream becomes a reality.

With a smile on my face, I knock on the big red door. Mum always wanted a red door, and Dad would yell at her for being so stupid. When she finally kicked him out, the first thing she did was paint her door a bright, bold red.

The door swings open, and my mother’s eyes brighten when she sees it’s me, “Darling girl come in” she kisses my cheeks and squeezes me hard, “I was just thinking about you.”

We go straight to the kitchen, the heart and soul of my mothers’ home; she flusters around the little room to make tea. I grab the biscuits from the counter and sit at the little round dining table.

“I didn’t see the car outside. Did you come here on your own?” she asks

“I took the bus,” I say before stuffing a biscuit in my mouth

“Hmm”, she pours the boiling water into the teapot and sets it on the table. She places the matching teacups, milk jug, and sugar bowl between us. Mum messes about making our tea.

I look around the old kitchen. We’ve had many great times in this tiny kitchen, Mum teaching us to cook and bake, the hilarious food fight we had after my sister announced she was pregnant. The time we cried when it all sunk in. When Dad left for the last time, smashing dishes at the wall as he walked out of the room. Good and bad memories, and now I’m adding more memories for Mum.

“Your quiet today”, she murmurs into her tea

I smile, “It’s just that kind of day.”

“What’s the paperwork for?” she eyes the folder I placed beside me on the table

“Just some documents I need you to look over and sign.”

“Sign?” her voice goes up; she grabs the papers and looks up at me with concern when she realizes what the documents are.

“Don’t worry, Mum, it’s just a Will. You know you can’t go through life without being prepared. I mean, just the other day, I watched a young woman get hit by a car, and well, I started thinking that could happen to me. You know you should get one for yourself” I stop babbling and sip my tea as she looks over the documents again.

I need her to sign these documents; she’s the only person aside from my sister that I trust with this, and as my sister has a kid and husband, I don’t want to concern her with this.

“You seem to have it all figured out, right down to your funeral arrangements” she taps her finger against her chin

“It’s best to be thorough with these sorts of things.” I say as casually as I can while picking up a chocolate cupcake; mum starts to giggle, “What?” 

“You’ve always licked the icing off a cupcake since you were a toddler; thankfully, you eat the cake too, but back then, I would find pieces of cake in the oddest places, like your pockets, shoes, socks and even between the cushions of the lounge.”

We both laugh for a moment. I sigh, “What can I say? I love icing; it’s the best part unless it has a cream cheese topping”, yuk!

“And you always lick the icing first when you're nervous. Which leads me to ask you,” Mum pauses and leans across the table, taking my hand, “What’s really going on?”

My bottom lip trembles and I know she has me. Why did I think going to Mum would be easy and quick? I slump in my chair and sigh, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Explain”

“I’m sorry. I-I can’t” I don’t want her to see my shame, my failure.

“I am here for you, Lillian; I am always here for you, and I will support you no matter what you have done or haven’t done. Do you understand me? I love you, Lillian. There is nothing you can do that will make me feel ashamed of you” I look away; she hit the nail on the head with that one. “Lilly, is this about Dean?” I look at her sharply but don’t say a word, “I know he isn’t good to you. I know you keep it to yourself.”

“You do?” Shit, I failed, I thought I hid it so well.

“Oh Darling girl, it’s not you, it’s him.” She brushes her hair out of her face, “I should have done more” she says, staring at the ceiling, “Maybe you wouldn’t have come to this conclusion. Maybe you would have left him sooner. I don’t know. It’s a difficult job motherhood.”

“Mum, please don’t blame yourself.”

She stares at me, sadness in her eyes, “How can I not when you would rather kill yourself than come to me to help you.”

I blink and stare at her in horror. How the hell did she know what I was planning to do. She squeezes my hand, “Honey, you came here with a Will and a directive on your funeral. It’s hardly a jump.”

I nod, the tears start to fall down my cheeks, “I’m sorry, there’s nothing else I can do.”

“Of course, there is Lillian. You can leave. I can help you. I have plenty of money put aside.”

I shake my head, “You don’t understand, Mum. He told me if I leave that he will kill you, Abbey, Quinn, and Lucy. He took me to the place where he will bury us all.”

Mum’s eyes flatten with anger, “You listen to me. We will sell this place and leave. Give me a couple of weeks, and we’ll have enough money to start over somewhere new. Somewhere he won’t find any of us.”

I bow my head, “I don’t have a week in me Mum, I don’t even have a day left. I can’t do this anymore. It’s for the best if I.”

Mum cuts me off before I can finish my sentence, “Don’t you dare say you should leave this world because it’s not for the best, Lillian Blackwood.” She huffs, “Let me make a few phone calls; Quinn will take you home so you can grab whatever you need or want, and then we leave tonight. I’ll have Cherry meet with the realtor and sell this place.”

“We will? where will we go?” I ask with hope in my voice

She smiles, “Wherever you want. How about we go for a little holiday first in the tropics, get some sun and then we’ll figure out where we will land after we clear our heads.”

That evening, Stacie, my BFF, called me and told me that the Police detained Dean for armed robbery. Police also charged Dean with battery/assault involving two police officers. She said he was calling out for me as he was arrested and shoved into the back of the cop car.

My mother had given me a little bit of hope that afternoon, and then discovering Dean’s arrest, my hope bloomed.

We took our time packing up my stuff, knowing that Dean was behind bars and would be there for the duration of his court appearances.

We went on our holiday as planned; the sunny climes of Queensland outdid themselves; it was beautiful to spend time with my family again without walking on eggshells when Dean was around. Before our holiday ended, Stace called during my holiday to tell me Dean’s sentencing came through, and he received full five years.

I remember breathing a sigh of relief; it was over. It’s long enough for me to hit the reset button.

Three weeks later and we returned touching down at Sydney Airport. It was a gloomy day, and that was exactly how I was feeling, sad and apprehensive. We decided to move to Northwest of Sydney, not too far from the Blue Mountains but still suburbia, which made Abbey happy.

When we arrived at our new house, something inside me changed, I couldn’t deal with being outside in the open. I spent the first few weeks alone in my room. The thought of leaving my room terrified me. Every time I stepped out of my room, I couldn’t breathe; I would turn right back around and crawl back into my bed.

Several weeks had passed when Mum had finally had enough and told me I had to see the Doctor. Fortunately, the doctor was kind enough to see me and referred me to a Psychiatrist and later a Psychologist.

I was diagnosed with Chronic PTSD, severe depression, anxiety, and sleep paralysis.

Ten years of unpacking chronic abuse is a lot, and yet the diagnosis came with sudden clarity. I wasn’t going crazy, and I wasn’t alone.

However, to find the proper medication and therapies for me was difficult. In the end I voluntarily hospitalized myself.

It was the best thing I had ever done for myself. It was my first step to finding me. A young woman I never knew because she didn’t know who the young girl ever was and never had the opportunity to grow into the young woman I was destined to be, and so my journey has begun.