If You Value Your Safety

A story of betrayal.

      As soon as they walked up, Caia knew how it would end. Her head spun, though no blows had struck as of yet, and her stomach clenched. Supporting herself against the wall, she eyed them wearily. Three young men--the first with sandy hair and an infectious smile that looked a tad sinister on this occasion, or perhaps her presupposition of his intent just made it seem that way. The other two had dark hair, and one in particular reminded her of him. The resemblence was nothing close to remarkable, but just enough to send a sharp pang through her heart. A pang of regret, and of love. There was no anger there, never had been. Despite everything, she had never been able to feel anything except love. If he had come to her then, she was sure she would have begged at his feet like a loyal puppy at the feet of an abusive master. He had sent them, these tall youths who looked old and strong enough to be men. Caia knew this intuitively, just as surely as she knew what they had come to do.

      They approached with an almost synchronized swagger. Confident, but more than that, arrogant. No, not even arrogance described their attitude--masterful. They looked as if they believed they owned the world and everyone in it. More than that, she knew they believed they owned her. They did, in a way. Because he owned her, and in his absence, he had sent them as messengers. Punishers. They were an extension of him, of his will, and therefore they had power.

      "Caia. Am I right?" The sandy-haired one asked in a condescending tone. It was meant to convey power, and dominance, but it fell flat in comparison to the cool authority of the one she loved.  He did not expect an answer, but she gave one anyway.

     "Yes. I am the one he sent you for." Her voice was steady, but it masked raw fear beginning to bubble up within her. She was positive that her eyes would betray her--those wide green orbs which seemed to convey every thought which entered the mind behind them--but they did not.

     An expression of surprise flitted across all three of the young mens faces simultaneously. He, Caia recollected with a sort of pride as well as pain, never would have unmasked such surprise. In fact, she doubted that he would have been surprised at all. They had known each other so well, they could predict one anothers every move, every motive. But these men, they were mere minions of his, they had no talent for deception, no spark of the devious intelligence that she had admired so much in him. Admired, but feared.

    They were closing in now. Her breath was coming fast, and she was losing her grip on what little composure she had left.

    "You thought you could get out." Said the one who reminded her of him, "You thought you could run, and hide, and be safe. You abandoned him, then worst of all, you TOLD. You left him for dead. No, worse, you left him for the police to come and condemn him to a life in prison."

     All this aroused renewed feelings of irrational guilt within her. She hadn't meant to, d****t, she hadn't wanted to!! A single tear spilled from the corner of her eye, leaving a glistening streak across her pale, frightened face. She had lost it completely--there was nothing left now, all she could think to do was cower against the cold stone wall and beg for forgiveness.

    "I never meant to!!!" Caia's thoughts escaped her lips in a desperate sob. It was true, so true, but to the messengers, honesty would not even register. She knew this, yet she continued to defend herself. "They saw, they saw all the signs, d****t, it was obvious, I couldn't help it, I couldn't, I couldn't...." Her voice, nearly hysterical, grew fainter, then trailed off altogether. She would defend herself, she would tell her side of the story, but that was the limit. I won't beg, she promised herself, I won't, I won't, I won't...

    And then the first hit flew into her, catching her jaw and slamming her head back into the wall with a sickening thud. A volley of blows rained down in rapid succession, each seemingly harder than the last, until she her vision was too clouded by blood for her to distinguish between one blown and another. At some point, she realized that she was no longer standing, she was crumpled in a small heap at the base of the wall. Her hearing joined her vision in a blurry, incomprehensible flood of sounds. She briefly distinguished one sound from the others--a faint chiming, or ringing of some sort. As she paused to listen more closely, she became aware that the blows had ceased.

     Her vision began to clear, and as she took stock of her surroundings once more, she saw one of the three messengers held a shiny blue object in his hand. The object, as well as his hand, was partially coated in a red substance--her blood, she realized after a moment. As her thoughts began to recollect themselves, she recognized the object as well. Her cellphone. Hence the ringing noise, she thought.

     "You're friend wonders why you haven't replied in so long." The dark haired one--the one who had no resemblence to him--emphasized the word friend sarcastically. Michael! She wondered how long it had been since her last reply. Not long enough to worry, she hoped. Michael had a tendency to worry about her. With reason, probably, but she still thought he was a little overprotective.

     "I think I'd better tell him you can't talk right now." He told her ominously.

     "Wha--what are you gonna say?" Her voice came out sounding weak, and she stumbled over her words.

     "I think I'll warn him to stay away. You wouldn't want him involved in this mess, would you? I think I'd better let him know to keep safer company than you, Caia. Wouldn't want him to end up like you, now? If he insists on trying to help, well, then....he can join you."

      These last words sent a thrill through Caia's spine, right to her heart. Michael wouldn't stay away, she was sure of that. He, like her, was fundamentally loyal...so she wanted to believe of him, at least. She didn't want him hurt, and she also didn't want him to know about this encounter. It would worry him to death--and he was on vacation for God's sake. Besides, it was possible that he would try to get involved. If he did, well...it would be the death of him. Quite literally. These boys might not have the capacity for murder, but her man did. And he would be jealous, too. Oh so jealous.

      She lunged for the phone. Taken aback, the dark-haired youth let it slip from his grip into hers. But his guard was down for but a second. He didn't bother for the phone, but lunged for her instead. The blows were harder than the first onslaught--he was angry. Blood began to cloud her vision once more, but this time she was not passive. She fought blindly but fiercely, rewarded with a few sharp grunts of pain. But her satisfaction was short-lived. At last, he lifted her slender, fragile body into the air and slammed it against the wall, the collision echoeing throughout the hallway. Caia wasn't conscious to hear the echo.

     The young man seized the phone from her slackened grip sent a brief message.

 

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     Michael was at the beach when his phone buzzed. Reading the name on the message, he sighed in relief. So she was all right, then.

    Upon opening the message, he didn't recognize the photograph immediately. There was something crumpled against the wall, a small form, maybe of a child....? Then he made out the smaller details. First the blood, the large, vivid pool of red and the splattered blood across the form, dripping from it. What the hell?

    Looking even closer, he could distinguish features. It was a person--a small, slender, awfully familiar form. The curve of the jawline, the golden waves of hair barely recognizable beneath a coating of blood....it was unmistakeable. Caia. Michael wanted to scream, but there was no air.

   Scrolling down, he read the message.  

Stay away from her, if you value your own safety.

 

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  Caia was alone when she came to. Her first thought was of Michael. Her phone lay next to her in that glistening pool of blood. The blood polluted her nostrils and deprived her of breath, making her want to cry out for air. Instead, she reached over and picked up the phone, fingertips grazing the scarlet puddle. Michael's number was on speed dial.

     He didn't answer.

      "Michael, I'm sorry, my God, I'm so sorry, so so sorry. I hope it didn't scare you, if it did, I won't blame you if you stay away, just please forgive me, oh please forgive me for putting you through this." She tried to move then, but her head burst into light with flash of agonizing pain. She couldn't help it; she screamed. Tremendous guilt flooded her at the thought that the scream would probably terrify Michael even more. "Sorry 'bout dat, I'm just inalotta pain righ' now I can' really tal' I goa go I'm sorry, so so sorry......" She was slurring, her head was screaming, pounding, ready to shatter into a million bloody fragments.... She blacked out a second time, the phone slipping from her fingers and sliding shut as it hit the stained red pavement.

 

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        One year later:

 

        Caia was walking down the street, aimlessly wandering into shops, a million pointless daily thoughts flitting through her mind. Just another useless, lonely day in the life that had once seemed so bright with prospect and now seemed so dull with drudgery and repressed memories. A familiar buzzing arrested her attention, and she pulled her phone out of her purse. Though it had been washed of blood a long time since, some had caught and dried in the hinges, rusting them. Every time the rusty hinges resisted her efforts to flip open her phone, she thought of that day and shuddered. Often, at these momens she would run her hand along the slightly raised scar that ran accross the back of her scalp-- another reminder.

        Michael, was her first thought as she pulled the phone. It surprised her that she should think of him--though she had passed by him in the halls a few times, she hadn't spoken to him since that painful encounter and mangled apology message she had left him in the aftermath. He hadn't called her back.

       Her prediction proved wrong--the phone's screen did not read Michael, but another number--one she knew by heart, though she had long since deleted it from the phone's system. It was him.

       Heart pounding, she answered the call. "Hello?"

       "Hello, darling. I'm out. Will you meet me?" Out. Out of jail, he meant. His voice was just as she remembered it--subtly commanding and full of a powerfully attractive but somehow cold charm of his.

      She had just turned eighteen, and though time had passed, she still remembered the beatings. The bruises. The urge to cry out in pain, but stopping out of love and fear and compassion for this man who had been her master as well as her lover.

      But another image came to mind. Michael. Michael, who had abandoned her in fear. He had been her best friend, not her lover, but it had hurt just  the same. It had hurt as much as the beatings. More, even. Yes, much more. A kind of agonizing heartbreak she had never experienced before--betrayal.

     He would never leave her. He might beat her, order her around, force her to obey him, but he would not leave her. Not like Michael.

    "Yes." She replied, slipping so easily back into the passive obedience that she had sworn she would forsake forever. "I'll meet you. Just tell me the place."

Author's Note

Dark again, I know.....and not thoroughly edited.

Reviews

[Tim H]

Well written story. Great character development that gave a kind of reason for the cycle of abuse.

[Marlena]

Damn. I've always found stories about abusive relationships to be similar, in a way, with a few exceptions. Honestly, though, I really liked this one, it was different I think because it starts with the boyfriend/abusive partner already in jail, and the fact that his "friends" went to hurt the girl was interesting. I enjoyed this, it was interesting and dark, which really isn't a bad thing. Nice job, keep up the good work. ^^

[Georgia Gypsy]

My first impression of your writing is...WOW. So much depth and feeling. Wonderful descriptions and you convey the message very well. I can't wait to read more of your work!
I like that your name is totally decieving too...Card House Dreamer sounds like some 'Alice in Wonderland' type writer...i guess if Alice had a evil boyfriend...LOL
take care! keep writing.
k