SEVEN
1417 Words
Moxie's POV
After breakfast, I turned my phone back on. Almost immediately, Dustin’s name appeared on the screen. The sight alone made my stomach tighten. The first call came before I even had time to think. I answered without meaning to, and the moment I heard his voice, every muscle in my body stiffened. His anger spilled through the phone and after that came the voice messages. Each one worse than the last.
I tried to keep my hands steady, but the familiar fear was already crawling up my spine. George took the phone from me and then spoke in an upset voice.
"Moxie, I think we should contact the police" he suggested.
“No.” I replied before I could stop myself.
He looked confused, almost frustrated, and I could tell he didn’t understand why I was refusing. Of course he didn’t. People like him had never experienced what happened after the police got involved.
The bitter memory I had tried to bury rose before I could stop it. The first time Dustin hit me badly enough that I thought about reporting it, I spent an entire night convincing myself that calling the police was the right thing to do. I believed they would protect me. I believed someone would take it seriously. That day, two police offices came.
"Can we talk to you, alone" I remembered the woman saying, avoiding Dustin. I nodded immediately and didn't hesitate to tell them everything that happened. They listened quietly and then they talked to Dustin privately.. When they came back, their expressions had changed. One of them sighed and rubbed his forehead as if the situation was an inconvenience.
“This looks like a domestic dispute,” he said.
Domestic dispute. The phrase still made my chest tighten. It was more than that, I was being beaten like a punching bag and was being abused. How could they stand there calmly and speak so nonchalantly about the whole situation.
Dustin came from a wealthy family. His father owned a successful company and had connections in the city. The officers treated him with an entirely different level of politeness.
"I'm sure this was all a little misunderstanding. Mr Dustin please refrain from letting this happen again. Have a nice day you two" One of the officers said before walking away, leaving me standing in shock Nothing about it was done, because it was the famous Dustin. After they left, Dustin laughed so evilly that I shook. I could still hear it clearly in my memory.
“You really thought they’d help you?” he asked that night. After that, the violence only got worse.
So when George suggested calling the police like it was an obvious solution, all I could think was that he had no idea what he was talking about. He didn’t understand the system and the situation. It would only favor Dustin and anger him more.
“You don’t understand anything,” I muttered. I didn't want to listen or argue with him, so I walked away. I went straight upstairs and closed the bedroom door behind me. I sat on the edge of the bed and pressed my palms against my face.
Why was everything so complicated?
I thought escaping Dustin would make things easier, but it seemed like things wouldn't go as planned. A gentle knock came a few minutes later.
“Moxie? It’s me.” it was Quince’s voice.
I hesitated before answering. “Come in.” I said, clearing my throat.
She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She looked worried and concerned. “You two had quite the conversation downstairs,” she said while sitting beside me.
“Please don’t start.” I groaned silently.
“I’m not here to scold you.” She leaned back slightly and studied my face. “I know you're upset.”
“He just doesn’t understand.” I sighed.
“But he meant well,” she continued gently. “He just thought reporting Dustin would protect you.”
“It didn’t last time.” I said and Quince’s expression softened immediately.
“You reported him before?” She asked.
“I did and nothing happened, his abuse only got worse.” I said she was quiet for a moment after that.
“I understand why you reacted the way you did,” she said finally.
“Thank you.” I said, glad that someone was seeing things the way I was.
Quince clapped her hands together suddenly. “Alright. Enough sad conversation.” She said.
“What?”
“You need a distraction.”
Before I could protest, she grabbed the remote and turned on the television. There was a cartoon playing on the TV.
“You’re seriously making me watch this?” I asked.
“Absolutely.”
For the next two hours we sat on the bed eating snacks and watching the movie like we used to during our high school sleepovers. Slowly, I forgot everything and started to feel better.
Downstairs, Quince later told George what had happened with the police before. Apparently he listened quietly the entire time. Not long after that, there was another knock on my door. This time it was him.
“I’d like to talk,” he said from the doorway.
I folded my arms slightly. “What about?” I asked.
He leaned against the frame, looking uncharacteristically thoughtful. “I was a bit presumptuous earlier.” he said and that surprised me.
“I assumed calling the police would solve the problem,” he continued. “Clearly I didn’t have the full picture.” He sounded apologetic. “I should have asked before pushing the idea.” I wasn’t expecting that level of honesty.
“So… what now?” I asked cautiously.
“Well,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck slightly, “since your phone number is now in the hands of someone you’d rather avoid, I thought it might be smart to get a new SIM card.”
“That’s actually… a good idea.” I admitted.
“I can drive you.” he offered.
“I don’t want to trouble you.” I rejected his offer
“It’s not trouble, Quince offered to drive me hersef.”
Before I could refuse again, Quince suddenly stood up. “Oh perfect timing!” she announced dramatically.
“What?” I asked.
“I just remembered I have something urgent to do today.” She said.
“You were literally planning to take me yourself five minutes ago.” I replied to her in disbelief
“Yes, but now my schedule is very full,” she replied with a suspiciously innocent smile.
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re doing this on purpose.” I said and she grinned.
“Absolutely.”
And that was how I ended up sitting in George’s car again. The ride to the store was quieter than the one from Dustin’s apartment, but this time the silence felt less tense. After getting the new SIM card, we returned home without any major incidence.
Days passed and living in the same house with him gradually became… normal. At least, as normal as they could be. When I saw George in the mornings now, I could manage a simple greeting.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
It felt strangely natural after a while. Still there were still some awkward moments because no matter how much I tried to ignore it, George was a man. Not just a man, he was an incredibly hot man who was hard to not look at.
One day, I was walking down the hallway looking for Quince. Her bedroom door was slightly open. “Quince?” I called while pushing the door wider. The moment I stepped inside, I froze. George stood near the wardrobe. He was shirtless. Apparently he had just finished changing. For a second neither of us moved. I froze, unable to tear my eyes from his chest.
“Oh my god!” I spun around immediately, my face burning. “I’m so sorry!”
Behind me, I heard him exhale in surprise.
“It’s fine,” he replied calmly.
“I thought this was Quince’s room!”
“It is.”
“Then why are you here?”
“She asked me to bring her something.”
I covered my face with my hands.
“This is so embarrassing.” I mumbled. "I... I'll take my leave" I stuttered and left.
- Writer
