Prologue
Over the years, as a doctor, I’d met with many patients who’d become victims of domestic abuse. Many would state that they’d done it to themselves, that it was an accident, that it had only been that one time, and it would never happen again. I would mend their wounds—a busted cheek, a dislocated shoulder, a broken rib—only for them to return days, weeks, months later, completely broken again. And I would ask them why.
Why stay?
“I love him.”
“We’re going through a hard time right now.”
“She didn’t mean it, I swear.”
But they always do.
Some would eventually press charges, free themselves from their abusive partner, and make a new life for themselves. And some would return to the hospital, where I’d only have moments to save their lives. A few would survive and recover, and some would perish on the operating table, occasionally before. Those are the ones I’d beat myself up about. I’m a doctor; I knew the signs of abuse, the intentional injury etched within their broken bones told the truth, and yet I allowed them to go on telling themselves lies. Why didn’t I try harder? Why couldn’t I convince them to leave?
Why couldn’t I leave when the signs were there?
Because I’d been like those patients: I lied to myself until it finally hit me.
Smack!
The first time had been a slap in the face, followed by a dramatic apology on his part. The second was a shove into the mirror; he blamed me for being clumsy and told me to take the shards out of my back myself. The third, fourth, fifth…
Until I finally left, hit by a revelation, and decided I needed to file for divorce and hide away for a while. I felt on edge at the hotel, then the cottage by the riverbank a friend had loaned me, and eventually, I bought a one-way ticket to Vancouver. After not seeing him for a month, I idiotically thought I was safe enough to take a light, early morning jog along the riverbank and stay inside until a taxi came to take me to the airport.
I was wrong.
He’d found me and, as I started to jog back along the riverbank, the roads empty this early in the morning, I heard a car soaring towards me. It struck me before I even knew what was happening, and I collapsed on the ground in unbearable agony, feeling my bones shatter in multiple places. Blacking in and out, I gasped, hearing the car halt, then someone stepping out. The next time I opened my eyes, he stood above me with a maniacal grin and bent down. He wore a black baseball cap that shadowed his face, but I recognized those undeniable green eyes and tiny swoop of auburn-brown hair hanging loose over his eyebrow.
“How f**king dare you?” Julien hissed at me while I groaned, tasting the metallic heat of blood in my mouth. The scorching pain both shocked and numbed my senses as a high-pitched whistle echoed beneath his harsh voice. “Did you think you could leave me, Ellie? Divorce me?! HUH?!”
I tried to speak, but all that came out were the gurgles of blood and an animalistic shrieking I couldn't even recognize in myself. This only made him laugh, the sound haunting and hollow. I could feel my fingers trembling in fear. Julien… I thought. Please…I’m…
With a smirk, he stood up, and then I felt his hands grab me underneath my arms and start pulling. The sensation of my mangled bones and aching muscles amplified, and a carnal scream tore from my throat. “Shut up!” he shouted, pulling me harder. Hot tears flowed down my face with every grunt, him cursing under his breath as I felt my consciousness wavering in and out, trying to escape from the pain. Then he stopped and removed himself from my sight. My eyes darted from left to right to try to find him until I felt a brutal throbbing in my side—his heavy kick—and felt myself rolling over. Another kick and then another. Until I finally submitted to gravity and rolled into the cold, murky waters of the riverbank.
No! I tried to scream. Nothing but blood and bubbles lifted, and the freezing waters slowly pulled me under. I can’t die. We…
Each time I tried to force my body through the currents, to pull myself up, the pain of it all—my broken bones, my sore muscles, my dying heart—became too much. I just wanted to sleep and wake up in bed, call this a nightmare, and never think of it again. Unfortunately, I couldn’t seem to wake up. And eventually, I submitted to my fate. The water seemed to calm down around me for a moment, cradling me in its embrace, claiming me as a part of it. Darkness fogged my vision, my thoughts, and all I could feel were the ripples of water around me, smooth then rocky, like a boulder had fallen in.
Soon, I felt something touching my skin, and eventually, a magical warmth enveloped me, pulling me from the suffocating depths of the water. Leaning against this magic of warmth, I accepted it as my heaven as I finally fell into death's embrace.
