VioletAlone. It's an emotion I've felt for years, but it's never consumed me until this moment. Fact is, even when I've felt alone in this home, I've been here with Brent, and the loneliness was figurative, not literal.This afternoon it's literal. The clock on the wall ticks loudly in the silence. He's not sitting in his favorite recliner, watching some game on TV, drinking a beer, and smugly asking me when lunch will be served. I don't have to stand at the stove with my back to him, every retort running through my head to the foulness he speaks. My back doesn't have to stiffen when I hear him get up and feel him come behind me. I don't have to cringe as he touches me, pretend to enjoy the way his hands caress my body. Never again will I have to zone out as he finds pleasure in an act I haven't found pleasurable for years. But the silence - the being alone –gets to me.Truly, I can't remember the last time I was alone in this home physically. Brent never allowed me to be
VioletIt's been a week since I got out of the hospital, and I'm settling into a new routine, a new normal for me. Part of that new normal is having Anthony parked in front of my house almost every night. The other day he even did it in his own personal vehicle.I've taken to texting him when he arrives, to thank him for being out there, but we haven't really had a conversation since he brought me home. I have a feeling that's more my doing than his, and he's waiting for me to give him an opening. Tonight, I'm trying to create that opening.Taking the hamburger off the grill pan I've cooked it on, I plate it on a bun with the ketchup, mustard, mayo, and relish I know he likes. Every time he comes into The Café, it's how he orders his. I have one for myself too; eating is still a little difficult, but not as much as it had been when I first came home. Grabbing both of the plates and a bag with drinks and chips, I take a deep breath and head out my front door, toward the squad car
AceTwo Weeks Later"You sure you wanna do this?" I question Violet as we stand outside her trailer. She brought me out a drink to where I'm parked in her driveway. Like I am every other night.She nods. "I go back to work in two days, and I really want to feel safe when I go there. Trust me, I know this isn't a fix-all, Anthony, but it'll make me feel better.""You know I'll do whatever it takes to make you feel safe, and if showing you how to fire a gun is going to do that, it's what we'll do."I've tried to be accommodating with things she's needed, and I completely agree with this request of hers. I believe more than anything, she should be able to protect herself, and if I can help her with that, I'm going to do it. The small can of pepper spray she carries can buy her some time if it ever came to that, but a gun? It could save her life if push came to shove."Can't we do it here?" she asks, even as she's getting into my truck.I shake my head as I start the engine.
VioletMy hand shakes as I put a portion of my hair in a braid and pull it halfway back into the locks trailing down my shoulders. Half-up/half-down is one of my favorite ways to style my hair. Brent hated when I would play with my hairstyle like this – anything that was playful, fun, or age appropriate, he would sneer his nose up at. He preferred for me to wear it pulled back in a bun style that was so severe, it made me look like I was in my forties. Given the way I never smiled, never met anyone's gaze – I probably did look like I was in my forties. Some miser who hated her life, and for a while I did. But I've come to realize over the past few weeks that's so not me. Not many people know I'm actually twenty-nine. Much too young to feel this damn old. Isn't that a song or something? Once upon a time, I was someone who loved life, enjoyed pushing limits, and woke up every day looking forward to whatever adventure might be mine. Of all the things he took from me, that's one of th
VioletIn the last two months, things have settled down. I'm in a routine that I can live with. One that allows me to feel safe but also stretches the boundaries of what makes me feel comfortable. The only thing I would change would be my living situation. I hate being out in the middle of nowhere and wish I could afford to move closer town.I'm wiping down the counter, waiting for The Café to open when Caleb drags himself through the front door. "Morning." I give him a smile.He gives me a look, scrunching up his nose. "It should be illegal to be getting up this early, especially to be in a good mood about it.""When you've been through things I've been through, you're glad to be able to wake up in the morning. You're thankful for it."He raises an eyebrow. "I guess.""C'mon back here." Ernie motions to the younger boy. "I already got enough dishes for you to run a sink full."He sighs but puts on an apron and gets to work. It's a Saturday, I guess I can understand why h
Ace"Where do you want this?" I groan as I hold tightly onto the box that must hold every pot and pan Violet owns."The kitchen," she directs me, as she turns around, pointing to where I need to go.As she does, I try to force my eyes away from the tight pants she's wearing. If there's one thing Violet has, it's a grade A ass. It's firm, tight, and round, with what looks like enough give I could get a good handful if she'd ever let me touch her. Thankful that the box I'm bringing in is hiding what is now an erection, I focus back on the task at hand. Especially when I hear the other helpers stomping up the steps of the porch.Renegade and Tank come in behind me, both holding boxes, waiting for her to give them directions.Whitney comes in, carrying Stella in her arms. "Hey Violet, the couch and chair I was able to get from the warehouse that was going out of business is here. You want me just to have them put it on the porch, then the guys can move it?""Yeah," she answers,
AceApril of the following year…"I'm on vacation, motherfuckers!" I raise my arms in victory as I enter the squad room. My declaration is met with boos and wads of paper being thrown my way. One smacks me across the face, and I shoot the thrower a glare, but I can't blame them. I'm headed for a weekend of fun and sun. They're stuck working a stressful job."Shut the fuck up, Ace." I hear the bitching phrase tossed in my general direction. I can't tell which asshole said it, but I can't be bothered. I deserve this time off as much as anyone else does. The last few months have been some of not only the most stressful, but also enlightening ones of my life. Last time I tried to take a vacation…that shit didn't work out well. I'm beyond excited for this. "It's not my fault all y'all didn't get invited to the wedding of the decade," I reference the union of Renegade and Whitney. Everybody's only been waiting on it for what seems like forever. They'd tried getting married in Oct
Ace"You ever been down to the Gulf before the last time we tried to go?" I break the silence that's encompassed us since we left Laurel Springs an hour ago. You give Violet and me a series on Netflix, a pizza, and a beer, we can talk all night. Apparently, you put us in my truck on a road trip and it's fucking crickets. "No, this is as far south as I've ever lived, and I've never visited the beach or ocean before."This is the first I've heard about this being as far south as she's ever lived. We've never talked about things like this. I take the plunge and ask the question. "Where are you from, Violet?"The windows are down, and within the first thirty minutes she'd pulled her dark hair into a braid. Now she's holding back escaped tendrils with her palm. "Oklahoma," she answers above the whipping of the wind. "How did you end up in Alabama?"This drive has loosened my lips and I'm asking all the questions I always wondered about. There's a good chance she won't answe