I Get Up 10 by Meowser_Clancy


"Look myself in the mirror, I say we gonna win
Knock me down nine times but I get up ten" - Cardi B


She stared down at her hands, which were shaking. Doug was still outside, raging, angry, but the door was locked and, so far at least, locks had stopped him.

Who knew, really. Maybe tonight would be the night he snapped. Maybe tonight would be the night that Maddie didn't make it.

She had work tomorrow, she thought blearily. She had to make it to work; they were short and Amanda would have a hell of a day if she was down a nurse.

And then there was Cam to consider, the 12 year old boy she'd left that night, wondering if he'd live to see another day after the car accident he'd been in. It was a particularly tragic case because his mother had been killed instantly in the collision; and the other driver knocked unconscious.

A driver hadn't come upon them for a full five minutes. Hadn't called 911 for at least seven. Those were all minutes that would make or break Cam.

She remembered the look on his father's face and shuddered anew, hearing Doug bang at the door. "Maddie! Let me in."

She didn't answer. She'd learned awhile ago that there was no right way to answer, and thereby had become quieter and quieter, more full of apologies when she did dare to speak.

Life had lost all meaning. Life had lost all joy. She wasn't living anymore, she was barely surviving. And it was because of the man on the other side of the door.

"Maddie." His voice softened. "Maddie, I'm sorry."

She ignored it, knowing how empty his apologies were.

"Maddie, babe, let me in," he pleaded.

She didn't answer.

"Just talk to me," he said, his voice continuing to be soft. "Babe."

She placed her face in her hands, slowly moving to block her ears, but his voice was quiet, and suddenly soothing.

"Babe, I don't know why you're hiding," he said. "Why you put this door between us. Babe, we can work this out."

She rocked back and forth, trying to block out the sound; failing. She could hear every word he said, and, worse, she found herself clinging to the words.

She found that tears were in her eyes, and they stung on the way down, the salt water igniting the scrape on her face.

She'd have to find a good excuse for that one. A really good excuse.

She wondered idly if any of her coworkers knew; she figured that Amanda guessed, from things that she'd said recently, from certain things she'd said rather pointedly.

Amanda hadn't come right out and said anything though, not yet.

Maddie wasn't sure what she'd be able to say on the day that Amanda did decide to speak up. She'd probably just cry. She was too weak to tell Amanda the truth, she was too ashamed. She should have been smarter, she should have put a stop to this on day one, she should never have let it get this far. In the end, it was her fault.

If she'd been a better wife, Doug would never do this. He was so angry, but if she'd been better at reading his moods early on, it would never have come to this.

She knew he was speaking, she could hear every word all too clearly, and she began to speak, just to block him out.

"Leave me alone," she whispered. "Not tonight, I can't do this tonight."

She felt another flood of tears on her face, and she heard Doug pause, and wondered if he'd heard the hushed words.

Then there was a bang. She jumped in alarm, and heard him swear. "Fucking damnit, my hand," he groaned. "Fuck, Maddie, I hurt my hand."

And she couldn't help it, he'd found her weakness.

"What did you do?" She asked, voice hoarse and cracking from all the tears she'd cried.

"I cut my hand on a broken vase," he hissed. "Maddie, you have to help me."

She was too smart to open the door. She was.

But she was getting to her feet anyway, legs stiff from how long she'd been huddled there, shuffling to the door.

"How big is the cut?" She asked.

A pause. "It's big, Maddie," he said, voice harsh. "And deep, fuck, I'm bleeding all over your damn carpet."

She felt her heart skip an uncomfortable beat. Her actual body was scared, protesting this, warning her against it.

But her heart was too big, and she found herself cracking the door open.

"Show me," she said, praying that he'd been telling the truth, praying that she wasn't an even bigger fool than she thought she was.

He was standing right there, holding his arm out. There was blood. She slowly inched the door open, just a bit more, and then it was too late.

She didn't really remember the rest, didn't choose to. Her mind blocked it out, and she let it.

All she knew, what she remembered, was waking up in stained sheets. He had cut himself; there was blood and she was pretty sure it was from him because she could find nothing on her own body to tell her the contrary. Nothing big enough, anyway.

She stared at herself in the mirror that morning, knowing she'd have to call in, knowing she wouldn't be able to work that day, knowing that if she wasn't careful, she'd never work again.

And it was in that moment that her mind cleared.

Staring at herself, at her bruised face, at her tangled hair, at the battered body before her, she finally saw her life as it was.

She saw Doug as he was. Evil, controlling, not just misguided, not trying his best, not. a good person. He'd done this to her. He'd done this to the woman he'd sworn to love and cherish and protect. He'd done this to the woman he'd sworn to lay down his life for.

No.

If he was doing this to her, who knew what else he was capable of?

One day soon, she might literally not be able to wake up.

Her hands trembling, she took a shower, washed her hair, started to cry anew at how very much the water hurt. How it seemed to ignite every scrape, every bruise, how it burned her marred body.

With every drop, she felt resolve sinking in through her skin. She couldn't do this anymore. She wouldn't do this anymore.

She didn't have to.

She was going to leave.

She didn't know where to go, she had truly no idea, because Doug knew where her parents live, and she wouldn't inflict that on them. She wasn't going to tell them what had happened, she wasn't going to let them feel that pain of knowing what their daughter had been through. She'd never tell them. And she knew that Doug wouldn't either. Even if he showed up looking for her, he'd phrase any questions carefully in case she wasn't there.

He was smart, she knew that. She'd left once before, but she hadn't been smart about it. She'd gone to her friend Gina's house, hadn't told her the full story, and when Doug had shown up to get her, Gina had let him right to her, saying with a sly smile that her husband had finally shown up.

She should have been honest, she reflected. Should have made it more clear what her leaving had been about.

She shouldn't have let him take her back.

That hadn't been a good night.

She breathed out, sinking down onto the shower floor, letting the water pour down, not paying it attention, losing herself in the droplets.

She had to have a plan, She had to know what to do. She had to figure this out.

Evan.

The idea came slow, but suddenly it seemed clear. Evan and Doug had never liked each other. And Evan had moved recently. God, what was his new address? He'd sent it to her, saying that if she was ever in LA she should stop by.

He'd never expect her to actually show up. She'd read between the lines of his text, and knew he wasn't sure why she'd been so uncommunicative.

She'd clean out her bank accounts. She didn't care about packing her belongings; those didn't matter. She'd buy a bus ticket. She'd plan this thing.

She'd make sure that he wouldn't find her. Not this time. She hadn't told him about Evan leaving home; she'd figured he wouldn't care.

She honestly wasn't sure when the last time she'd talked to Evan was. After a while, it got hard to answer the questions he had for her. And besides, Doug didn't like her to talk to her family. He strictly checked up on that.

But the ideas were taking shape in her mind.

She shut off the water, climbed out on ginger legs, wrapped the towel around her.

She saw a different woman looking back at her from the mirror. She saw a woman whose jaw was set, a woman who was ready to face the world which, just moments ago, had beaten her into submission.

But she wasn't going to submit. She wasn't going to accept this fate.

Her story hadn't been great so far, but it wasn't too late to change it, and, looking at herself right now, she refused to accept this as the end of the road.

She was going to change her life, change everything. And she was never going to let Doug do this to her again.

Never.

He may have been able to knock her to the ground, but she would damned if he'd keep her down.