I don't even need to open my eyes to know where I am; all I need to do is inhale. Disinfectant, that's what I can smell, sickly strong disinfectant. It smells so sterile, which yeah, ok, it's meant to, but in my mind it just smells too clean. Just by taking in that one sniff brings back unpleasant memories. I've been here numerous times in the last 6 months you see; and it's always for the same reason. A reason which I still can't bring myself to say out loud.
I can hear the distant sound of shoes hitting the lino tiled flooring in the corridor outside, I've been here so many times I know that its grey with blue flecks in it. I can also hear hushed whispers coming from the doorway; I'm too scared to open my eyes because it makes everything too real. Just lie still, pretend to be asleep and they'll leave you alone. I lie as still as I can as the voices get closer.
"Have we found out a name yet?"
A young girls' voice rings through my ears as I sigh internally, this means I've been brought here without my ID. It also means I'm here on my own. A mixture of sadness and hope hit me. Wonderful, I think sarcastically; of all the shitty things, this has to be one of them, as if you bring me here with no ID, you just stooped to a new all time low.
I go to open my mouth to tell the girl who I am but I stop abruptly. The smell of disinfectant has been replaced with the smell of cologne. It's a mixture of spices and it's settling. The scent belongs to the man that I know, without even opening my eyes, is currently looking down his nose at me, just like every other time I've been here.
Don't get me wrong; when I say he's looking down his nose at me, it's not in a rude or condensing way, it's more out of pity. Yep, that's right, you heard me, pity. For me, this is the most uncomfortable emotion in the world, all because I can make that pity stop, I only need to be brave enough and open my mouth.
How ironic; opening my mouth that is, because that's the exact reason why I'm here in the first place. I don't have long to dwell on this thought before I hear him sigh.
"I'll take it from here. She's been here before, though not in this bad a shape"
I know without a shadow of a doubt he's now frowning. That voice belongs to an angel. I hear the clipboard at the end of my bed being picked up, the shuffling of papers and the few hums that leave his mouth. My heart skips a beat.
How do I know that he's an angel? Easy, because he never pushes me, he lets me take my time, plus, he also has the things to stop the pain. I hear the lid of the dry marker pen being removed, the sound as the ink goes across the board, and then the click as the lid is replaced.
I start to panic, never before has my name been written above my bed, this can't be good. Then the panic stops and a glimmer of hope replaces it, this means I'm not leaving immediately. This means I may just get a night to myself, no more being afraid, no more cowering in the background. Just for one night I may just get to be free of fear.
"Hey there missy, I know you can hear me, gonna open your eyes for me?"
That beautiful voice I've heard many a times almost sings at me. I squeeze my eyes tighter hoping if I don't open them I don't have to have to look at him and see the disgust that sits so deep.
I hate looking into those eyes of his as I make up yet another excuse, which, if we're both honest, know aren't true. The reason I hate looking into them you wonder, well that's easy to explain. You see he has the most piercing blue eyes in the world; they are as deep as the ocean and the more times I see my face looking back at me through them the harder its gets to lie.
They say you can see into someone's soul by looking into their eyes. If that's true, this angel has the purest soul of them all. My breath hitches as he starts to talk to me again.
"I can see you squeezing your eyes tighter, come on, open them up, I'm not gonna bite you know"
He laughs to himself, which sets my nerves at ease. The laugh is low and comes from deep inside his chest. I can imagine the vibration it causes. It's so settling I half open an eye and the pain in my left cheek hits me like a bolt of lightening.
Wow that really wasn't what I was expecting to feel, that stings like a bitch.
I squeeze it tight again willing the pain to go away. That one hurts more than last time; you'd think I'd have gotten used to this pain by now. I guess not. After all, is this a pain you can ever get used to?
"Oh" he pauses "so you can hear me."
I can tell there's a smirk on his face as he continues,
"I'm guessing you're in a lot of pain, but how about we make a deal, don't open your eyes, hey you don't even have to speak, I'll take your hand and you can squeeze it once for yes and twice for no, how's that sound?"
He reaches out his hand and takes my hand in his. Force of habit makes me automatically pull my fingers back from his. Without realising I pull my knees up to my chest. My breaths start to quicken and my hands start to sweat. There's an excruciating pain searing through my stomach right now as I'm all but curling into the foetal position, pulling my head down to my chest.
I don't know how long I've been having this episode. It could have been seconds, minutes or even hours but time stands still as I hear his voice again, it instantly pulls me straight back down to the ground and I melt back into the bed. It has the most calming tone and it takes over the crazy sensation that is coursing through my body.
"Hey hey hey" he inhales a quick breath "listen to me. Take a deep breath. I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry"
He sounds panicked. I can hear his hand run through his hair. I smile inside because what he doesn't realise is that the few words are enough to sooth me and before I know what I'm doing I'm using all my will to reach out my tiny hand to his. My breath slows and I start to lift my head from my chest. He gingerly takes my hand and rubs small circles in my palm.
"Now I'm going to ask you just a few questions and all you need to do is squeeze my hand. No pressure, just take your time"
There's a smile in his voice; I know his perfect white teeth are showing through those full pink lips.
I squeeze his hand just like he told me to, signalling that I'm fine for him to continue. I can't help but notice how strangely comforting it is to feel his warm soft hand in mine. His hands are big and strong but I don't feel scared or intimidated.
That's a first for a very long time.
"So, first question. Do you remember how you got here?"
I squeeze twice, slowly and softly, not because I'm scared to answer, but purely because I don't have the physical energy to do it any harder. Of course I have some idea how I got here, but not enough to answer. I want to answer him, I want to be able to talk to him, however, it doesn't take long to register in my mind that if I open my mouth he may take his hand away from mine and right now it's the only thing that is stopping me falling apart at the seams.
Don't open your mouth; don't say a word. I repeat it over and over, waiting on baited breath for the next question.
"Ok, so next question, do you know why you're here?"
Again I squeeze his hand twice. It's obvious I'm in a state, I know I'm too scared to open my eyes to see who's in the room, my senses tell me it's only the two of us, but I can't trust my senses.
I'm sore all over and I know for experience that having your name written on the white board above a bed means you've been admitted. It then dawns on me I couldn't tell him the extent of my injuries even if I wanted to. I could take a guess but what's the point. I don't really want to know, plus it's not like I can change it now is it. They'll patch me up as best they can, I'll take some meds whilst making yet another excuse and wonder how long until I'm back here doing this all over again.
I start to work through my memory the excuses I've used before. I always remember what I've used previously; I don't want to make a slip up. I carefully run through a checklist of the last three excuses knowing that I can't use them again yet. His voice breaks my train of thought mid way through me reciting the excuse for this latest visit.
"Last question, then I'll get you some pain meds."
He takes a deep breath before the words I dread to hear come out of his mouth,
"Are you going to be honest and actually tell me what happened this time?"
I don't even have a chance to squeeze his hand because my emotions betray me. I feel weak, vulnerable and ashamed as a single tear rolls down my cheek. It's in this split second, as the salty warm wet liquid spills across my swollen cheek, I decide enough is enough, that yes, its now time to tell my story. I feel him raise his other hand and reach across my face to tenderly wipe the tear that has seeped out from my tightly shut eyes. I take a deep breath and softly squeeze his hand just once.
The words go through my mind as I try to digest them. I know once they leave my mouth my life is going to change forever. Once the words leave my lips I can't take them back. I take another deep breath as the words make a sentence in my mind.
Let me take this chance to introduce myself before I tell you my story.
My name is Alice and I'm a domestic abuse victim.
