3
Ruby
I’m late.
I run from the bus stop towards my small terraced house, heart heaving, short of breath. Not because I’m unfit but because I’m shit scared. He warned me. I’ve been late three times this week and that’s not my fault. Ben, who runs the cafe, asks me to stay and clean up later and later each night, attempting to persuade me to go out with him for a drink somewhere. I know why. Ben wants to talk to me about the bruises from last week.
Dan is slipping, leaving visible marks on my skin where before they were hidden. I’m slipping too—away from what’s left of myself.
When the lights aren’t on in the house, my breath rushes from my lungs in relief. Dan isn’t home yet; he won’t realise I’m late. I unhook my black messenger bag from over my shoulders and dump it on the floor, pulling my phone from a pocket with shaking hands. What if Dan texted me, telling me to be somewhere else? No. The only message is from Nate, asking if I can make rehearsals this weekend. I don’t know if I can yet.
I walk towards the lounge room and when Dan steps out of the kitchen as I pass, I stifle a scream and drop my phone. Dan’s face is shadowed in the darkened hallway, and his bulky frame blocks my way to the lounge door.
“You scared me!” I pick up my phone.
“Why are you late?” he asks, eyes glinting
“Same as yesterday. Ben is being a dick and kept me back late.”
“Back late?” he steps closer. “Why?”
The smell of Dan, the fresh scent of detergent and the powerful deodorant he uses, fills the space between us—a nauseating reminder of last night. Pain twinges in my bruised shoulder. “I don’t know.”
Dan catches my chin and yanks my face to look at him. “You told him about me?”
This question has many answers. The fact I have a boyfriend? Or that he occasionally smacks me around when the psychological abuse fails? That I live with the man who helped me years ago, but who I now need help escaping from?
“Ben knows I have a boyfriend, yeah.” I pull my scarlet hair over a shoulder and he catches my hand as I do, squeezing the delicate bones of my wrist. I wince. “Don’t. You’ll bruise me.”
Dan runs his tongue along his teeth, sweeping a gaze up and down my thin figure. My blue jeans and tight faded-to-grey Blue Phoenix t-shirt accentuate that I’ve lost more weight.
He ignores my loaded comment about visible injuries. “I’m not worried about that, nobody else would be interested in you. What can you offer anybody? Nothing.”
“Have you eaten?” I ask him before the rant starts.
“No, waiting for you. There’s nothing in the house to eat—did you stop by the shops?”
Shit.I knew there was something I forgot. “No,” I say in a small voice.
“What the fuck, Ruby? Why not?”
“You could’ve picked some things up from the shop near the gym,” I reply, immediately regretting my words.
Dan straightens. “I don’t do the fucking shopping. That’s your job. I gave you the money. Where is it?”
I pull bank notes from my back pocket. He snatches them from me and folds the notes, counting each one. “Did you get paid today?”
“Yes.”
Dan holds his large palm out again.
I dig around for the money Ben gave me. “I need to keep some, Dan, for…”
“I’ll give you some when you’ve bought groceries.” Dan thrusts a couple of twenty-pound notes at me. “Here. Make sure you buy everything on the list I gave you earlier.”
“Now? I wanted something to eat.”
“We don’t have anything to eat!” he retorts.