Duplicity

2. Flee

FLEE

Life sucks! When it storms, it blows in one kick-ass blizzard. It seems my life once again is at a tailspin. Why do I keep falling back into the same old pattern? It’s like I don’t have a cell in my brain. I keep picking the wrong people over and over. Stumbling in the rabbit hole has become a bad habit of mine.

Fright racks my mind as I finish shoving the last piece of clothing in my overstuffed bag and snatching it up and sprinting for the front door with keys in hand. I’m not running from my troubles. It’s my life I’m fleeing from.

I knuckle the blood from my busted lip, darting downstairs, two steps at a time, dragging my heavy bag with me.

The crisp night smells like ice. It bites my bruised cheek and swollen eye. I lift my eyes to the ominous canopy of clouds. The meteorologist finally got this prediction right. The frozen grass crunches under my feet while icicled trees slump low and ice flakes cover my long, black hair and shoulders like a white, wintery shawl.

A shiver runs through me as I try to ignore the throbbing pain. I can’t catch my breath. It feels like someone’s hand is clamped around my lungs and squeezing as I beg for air. But I can’t slow down. I have to get out of town quickly before my boyfriend, Tad, returns.

Why do I push his buttons? I know the outcome. We had gotten into a terrible argument. And for the first time in our relationship, I stood up to him. I will pay dearly for that mistake. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. I lost my temper and made him hit me. It’s my fault. If I’d just left … turned and walked out the front door, he would’ve never known that I had returned home.

Screw him! I refuse to be his punching bag any longer. I should’ve ended this two-year relationship long before now. I’ve invested my time with a man that has no idea how to be in a committed relationship.

Why do I do this to myself? A dark cloud seems to always hover over me, and the promise of trouble is a mere whisper away. Will I ever stop being a loser? Can’t I do anything right?

Of all things, I caught Tad in bed with my closest friend, Susan. I knew this incident meant the beginning of a colossal mudslide. The whole scene is as fresh as the cut on my busted lip and as deep as the bruise on my cheek.

Strangled with cheap, heavy perfume, I stand in the doorframe of our bedroom, gaping at Tad and Susan entangled between the sheets in the throes of s*x. I drop my bag.

“What the hell?” Shock, hurt, and betrayal slams into my chest as I stand there gawking, frozen like an ice sculpture.

Susan yaps and scrambles for her clothes, scurrying past me, darting for the front door. I glower at my friend but let her go. Why bother? She has bigger problems than me. Dealing with her six-foot-four husband should serve her right.

My eyes target Tad as he takes his time slipping on his jeans. The fat grin beaming across his face suggests his lack of remorse. “What are you starin’ at?” His voice is cold and aloof.

Tears well in my eyes as I ask, “How long has this been going on?” I cross my arms, holding his baleful gaze.

“Stop your snifflin’. I-dee-clare, Ms. Baker. I do believe I’m a grown man. Don’t have to answer to you,” he mocks.

“A man!” I scoff. “Half the time you’re unemployed and the other half you’re at some bar getting shitfaced.”

“So, what Anna! I’d rather be with anyone else than the likes of you!” His words feel like stones being thrown at me.

“No one is forcing you to stay. Leave!” Tears streak my cheeks.

Tad steps up in my face, his lips quivering with bitterness. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, b***h! I like it here.”

“Of course, you do! Why would you not? You have free rent, food, and a comfortable bed to screw your best friend’s wife!” I shove his chest, causing him to stumble. A big mistake.

“Never put your hands on me!” Anger flickers through his hard, black eyes as he cold-c***s my cheek, clipping the corner of my eye.

I fall to the floor, cradling my throbbing face. Before I have time to see past the spinning stars, he wrings a fist full of my hair and drags me to my feet. Taking his rage further, he backhands me. Immediately, I taste blood on my lip. I stagger backward but remain on my feet. Tad comes at me again, rearing his fist back to take another.

But I spy my bag on the floor in the bedroom doorway. I duck and make a swan dive for it. Thrusting my hand inside its content, I pull my hand free, revealing a small pistol, my Smith & Wesson six-forty-two. I aim right between Tad’s eyes, gritting my teeth and tasting the sweet nectar of revenge.

“Make one more move, and I swear, I’ll shoot you where you stand.” My finger caresses the cold steel trigger. One easy pull and it’d be over. I’d get off too. Self-defense with all the bruises on my face.

Tad’s eyes fill with a mix of emotions: anger, fright, shock. “You gotta be kidding?”

“Nope! I’m done with you hurting me.” I cradle my gun in both hands, pointing straight at him, daring him to move.

He throws his palms up. “Good riddance! In a few short weeks, I’ll have enough money to live wherever I want, and it sure as hell won’t be with you!” He sneers, spinning on his heels and storming out the door. I lower the gun as I hear Tad starting his truck to a roar, and headlights quickly flash through the window.

After a moment, the truck’s engine, and light fade. I take a deep breath, collapsing my trembling body to the floor and raking in air.

Putting Dallas, Texas and Tad Taylor in my rearview mirror is the best idea I’ve had in a long time. I’m getting the hell out of Dodge and never coming back.

Destination … New Orleans.

My older brother, Jeff, invited me to stay at his pad for an undisclosed time. He’s a second-year resident at Tulane Medical Center, only a block from the French Quarter. A great location to live. And since Jeff works ungodly hours, I’ll have the place to myself the majority of the time. A perfect solution to a terrible ending and a much brighter future. At least, that’s the plan.