Saying No

‘There’s a first time for everything,’ at least that’s what her Father had told her over and over again. As she floored the accelerator rushing away from the awful scene before her she realised that maybe that was true.

She had broken the rules, for the first time in ten years with him she had dared to say no and mean it. Enough was enough she had decided and so when he had been out for his Friday night binge at the pub, she had packed. Only the necessities went it, clothes, a brush, her meagre collection of books. She took nothing else, she didn’t it, she just needed the freedom that being away from him would provide.

She had heard him coming, singing badly and swaggering from side to side as he came up the road. He hadn’t been as long as she thought he would be, usually he was there until kicking out time, chatting up anything in a short skirt with long legs and bottle blonde hair. He was on first name terms with all the landlords and of course, they all thought he was wonderful. She had used to be the one by his side, everyone had admired her and wanted to be the one standing beside him, he was of course striking, film star looks.

Still that was a lifetime ago now. She looked over at the picture she had put on the mirror, her last little act, now she’d have to move fast or it would be too late and she knew, she just knew, that when he found out what she had done he would be furious. She knew where she was going to go, had phoned one of the friends that she had managed to keep in touch with despite his vice like grip on her life.

He was fumbling at the front door by this time and she had grabbed the last bag and raced out of the back door just as he had fallen though into the hallway.

‘Karen, Karen, I’m coming to get you,’ she could hear him yelling. She winced and as she raced towards the car she winced as the bag brushed against the bruised on her ribs. She was at the car and fumbling with the door, nerves making her hands shake. He was roaring now, he had found it, of that she was sure, there was only seconds now before he would come down to check the car. She had been clever than the last time she had tried to leave, when she had paid such a heavy price.

She was in, engine on and off, she engaged the door locks – there was no way he could get in, and as she raced out of the respectable cul-de-sac with its well spaced detached mock tudor houses she didn’t feel anything. He was out of the door, screaming, swearing promising revenge and she sure the curtains would be twitching. Funny how when things were out in the open everyone had something to say, but when no-one could see it, despite the bruised and the frequent trips to hospital, the tragic miscarriages not one of them had lifted a finger to help her.

She raced away, not sure what the future held, but as she patted her stomach she whispered to the growing baby;
‘Never again, he won’t catch us and lay a hand on us ever again, this time we’re playing by my rules.’