Summary: Further introduction of Murphy McCourt.
Warnings: Domestic Violence, Mentions Rape and Threats Of.
"Fuck…" I mumble walking down the hall of my shitty apartment building. It's not bad, per se, more like it could be better. Eight units, two floors. I'm on the second. The hunter carpet in the halls is dingy, the brick walls are chipped. We also have the fact that there's a meld of smells that comes from what everyone is cooking. Most times, separate they would be pleasant, but together it smells like vomit.
I try not to complain because it's the only place I can afford while working at a diner and trying to pay for med school. It's a place to rest my weary body, and at least I have a roof over my head and food in my belly. Suppose it's fitting in a way, on the outside I may seem happy and alive, but I'm dead inside. I died a long time ago. Life has beaten me down and some days I don't wanna get back up. I have to I know, but I don't want to. I want to lay down and tell God I'm ready, but I keep telling myself that he has a plan.
I stop at my front door, chuckling at the fact the landlord finally painted it, granted the chosen color is baby-shit green. Totally goes with the rest of the decor. Rolling my eyes at the thought, fishing my keys from my purse. Jamming the key in the door, I can hear the TV louder than normal and roll my eyes once more, knowing on the other side is my boyfriend, Toby. He'll be already drinking and expecting me to cook. Living the dream, even if my high school sweetheart is an abusive fuck who more than once I prayed would get hit by a bus.
Pushing the door open, I fight not to roll my eyes as I step inside, pulling my key from the door and dropping them back into my purse. I don't acknowledge Toby as I close the door and walk toward the bedroom. I never expected life to be this way, I'd had hopes and dreams. Wanted to be better than my crackhead mother and abusive, alcoholic father. Some days I try and others, I feel like I'm going to end up just like them. I've made it farther than either of them, but at the same time, I feel like I'm fighting their demons and mine.
On the way to the room, I reach out and pull my hair back with the band around my wrist, dropping my bag to the floor. As if on cue, just as I sit down on the bed, Toby appears in the hall. I'll admit, he's a good-looking guy, I fell for him in my sophomore year of high school. I was the nerdy, bookworm and he was the quarterback and my neighbor at the time. He asked me out and well, here we are. Kicking my shoes off, I look up at him as he speaks.
"What's wrong?" He inquires.
"Nothing just had a long day. Not in the mood." I answer quietly.
"Well, I ordered food, it's on the table." He states.
"Thanks," I mutter with a sigh. I can feel him watching me, I'm waiting for the nightly accusations. He thinks I'm fucking the guy who gives me a ride home at night from class. Ya know, since the guy lives in the apartment above us and all, I'm on his way home.
"How was your ride with Jeremiah?" He taunts.
I don't respond to him, just roll my eyes. Jeremiah is nice, he is also gay. You know, as in even if I wanted to fuck him, there would be no chance in hell. Jeremiah knows all about Toby and me, and along with my friend Abby, has tried to convince me to leave. I know I should, but where the hell else am I gonna go and maybe deep down I know no one else will love me. Toby and I, we weren't always like this, it only got bad after high school when Toby was rejected from both of his top colleges. He attended community college due to his grades and part of me, I feel like he's jealous because I was able to get into my first choice.
The funny thing is, Toby would protect me when we were in school. He never let anyone fuck with me and promised to protect me. Told me he loved me and he wanted to marry me one day. I have to laugh now because he is the kind of asshole he swore to protect me from.
"Why do you care?" I retorted.
"Just like to know where my whore of a girlfriend is. Since we both know you can't keep your fucking legs closed." He snorts, stepping further into the room.
"Oh, you mean like you and Juliette, you finally gave her what she wanted in high school… Your small dick and three seconds of wild thrusting." I snap.
I brace, I know it's coming. He lunges for me, grabbing me by the throat and slamming me back into the bed. I may be a curvy girl, but Toby has always had brute strength from playing football.
"You fucking cunt." He snarls as his knee presses between my thighs against the mattress. This is how it always goes.
"Truth fucking hurts," I grunt, my hands coming to wrap around his wrist in an attempt to pull him off, but his large fingers tighten.
I used to take the beatings, his violence, and threats because I loved him. He'd apologize after, and tell me it wouldn't happen again and I'd believe him. I fell for all his lies and I admit I'm ashamed. I let him convince me that he will be the only person to ever love me, to ever want me. He has done a great job of breaking me down, leaving my heart and spirit in ruins.
"You always have to fucking provoke me, this is your fault. You bring this on yourself." His words cut as his free hand connects with my cheek, forcing my head to the side. The sting causes my eyes to close for a moment, but no tears. I haven't let him make me cry in years. I'm numb to it at this point.
I manage to dig my nails deep enough into this arm to break the skin, causing him to release his hold on me. Gasping for breath, I wiggle away from him, far enough to use both feet and plant them in his chest to shove him away. This is normal.
"You want to feel like a big fucking man?!" I yell, lunging at him, throwing my fist, and connecting with his eye. I continue to throw punches, grunting as I do until he drops to his knees. He headbutts me in the stomach, grabbing my ankle and yanking, causing me to hit the floor hard. I try to scramble away, but he catches me. My eyes swelling as he lands a punch to my jaw and then to my nose. He laughs as he hits me, but I refuse to beg him to stop, refuse to cry for this asshole.
"Oh, I showed you that already. You want a repeat?" He taunts, pinning my hands above my head, pressing his weight against me.
I know what he means. That taunt is used to remind me of the day he broke me, of the damage he caused, and why I accept things the way they are.
Graduation night. He wanted to take our relationship further, but I told him no. He started arguing that if I loved him, I would take the step. He wanted to connect with me, wanted us to be one. Pretty much did some corny spiel about how this is how love worked. Also told me, I owed him. He deserved it after he had protected me. That was the first time he hit me. I remember my head hitting the floor of his apartment, slowly dissociating as he ripped my dress and told me I owed him this. I barely remember anything, just pain and him on top of me. In my head, I wasn't there. I wasn't laying on the floor being raped by the man who claimed to love me. I was far away, where nothing could hurt me.
"Fuck you." I thrash and throw my head forward, connecting with his hard enough to force him to release me, but also causing my ears to ring.
I'm ashamed of myself even now, but in my heart, I know his words are true. No one will ever want someone as broken as me. I mean, I took this asshole back after he assaulted me. He begged me for forgiveness, told me he would get help and he would do everything he could to make things right. I let him back because he convinced me he needed me, I was his hope. Yeah, clearly I'm fucking dumb.
We both lay on the ground a few moments longer. Slowly I get to my feet and kick Toby in the side of the head before stumbling out of the room, grabbing my purse as I do. I had to get out. I had to leave. I don't want any more broken bones. Don't want to explain to people how I "tripped". I can hear Toby groaning and telling me to get the fuck out, calling me a whore and a slew of other names. As tired as I am, I stumble out of the door and sit on the steps, knowing he won't come after me again. He'll drink more and pass out.
I fumble around in my purse, pulling out my cell phone and taking a moment to right myself, ears still ringing and my nose starting to trickle blood. Not the worst it has gotten, so I manage. Which is terrible to say. It seems normal, but to others, it would be horrible. I bite back tears, refusing to cry as shaky fingers unlock my phone and dial a number. Lifting my phone to my ear, I push myself up and slowly make my way down the steps to the front doors of the building and step out into the cool night air.
"Hey… yeah, it's me. Umm, can you come get me? Uh, Toby and I…" I murmur, not having to say another word. The voice on the other line belongs to my best friend, Abby O'Brien. We grew up together. Been through life's ups and downs. She knows me in and out, just like I know her. Those few words I spoke, they were enough to let her know I needed her, that Toby and I once again fought and I was running. Maybe this time I'd stay gone.
When the call ends, I sigh and fall into the old plastic chair that sits next to the door to wait for Abby. If I had been more alert, maybe I would have noticed how eerily quiet it was. The normal hustle and bustle of the neighborhood non-existent. Right now, my only focus was getting the fuck out of here.
Thanks to AWriterOfMany for being my Beta Reader for this fiction! #TurtleChibi power!
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