Tight AF

 Chapter 1

Courtney

     The sting of the pain is familiar. The look of the sun pouring over the street, a sweet tangerine orange and cotton candy blend, is familiar, too. I take note of its beauty, holding my sore left side as I drag my ankle along with me.

         He has found me again, that son of a bitch. Casper, the man who single-handedly destroyed any self-esteem and confidence I had left in the tank, somehow got into my apartment building. Three months ago, I found the courage to end it with him. To end the gaslighting, the powerful manipulation, the physical, verbal and emotional abuse.

         “You will regret this,” he sneered at the time. “I promise you.”

         I knew he was right, even when I fled. That is what makes me hate him even more. He isn’t just a plain, boring monster. He is a monster with influence, intelligence and frightening perception. He is inescapable.

         I was coming out of the elevator when he saw me. I saw him, like a deer in headlights, my body moving into a state of shock upon realizing that what I was looking at was real. He screamed my name, and I tried to race back into the elevator.

         But he caught it before the doors shut, pinning me into a corner by the throat. He slammed my left side into the wall while squeezing the life out of me, a flash of white hot pain overriding the ability to breathe for a moment.

         “Thought you could get away, didn’t you?” he whispered.

         I struggled. I always do, it's like muscle memory. It isn’t logical or practical or even useful. The man is tall and inconceivably strong. But I do it anyway. It’s in a woman’s DNA, isn’t it?

         I ran my nails down his flesh, trying to draw blood. Stomping my feet against his, I wrestled to get my legs in between. But after a few dreadful moments of near unconsciousness, he let me go.

         My body then moved into survival mode. I crashed against the ground then stumbled to my feet, hearing his maniacal laughter from somewhere beyond me. He watched me pull myself up, my entire left side throbbing as I left through the glass door of the lobby and into the street.

This time was just a warning. A reminder, in case I thought I was free. He’ll never let me be free.

         That is how I got here, right now. Hobbling in the spill of the sunrise, my voice gravelly and strained.

         “You’ll be back, hon!” he taunts after me, his voice echoing. “Trust me, you’ll be back!”

         He could go after me with a gun if he wanted. He could take me by the hair and throw me into the trunk of a car. No one would notice or care. That is the kind of sway he has. He could murder me in the middle of the street, and the cops would be counting the cash he paid them to not say a word.

         It is a clever way to make me feel even more worthless, beyond the abuse itself. He had captured me with his superficial charm, his money, his celebrity of sorts. Those first two years were a paradise, and I am not afraid to admit it.

         It was sometime later that the mask fell from his face and the true ghoul was revealed. He didn’t want me to have any friends, other than him and his own social circle. He criticized how I dressed and accused me of seeking attention outside the relationship. He convinced me I was nothing without him, and I believed it.

         I feel now, my ear ringing from the violent shove against the elevator wall, for a painful flicker of a moment that he is right. Who am I without the only person who made me feel worthwhile under a glitter of moonlight, then destroyed me under the same sky?

         I see people across the street, a handful of young adults likely heading back home after a night out. I hold my hand out to them in desperation, my voice straining like a hag from an old fairytale.

         “Please!” I call out. “Please help me! He’s after me! He’s going to kill me!”

         A few of the women turn to me, concerned. I see them elbow their friends to stop, to regard the sight before them.

         One of the young girls has dazzling red hair and striking green eyes. She is the one looking at me with the most care, brows furrowed, parting from her friends to come toward me.

         I smile for a moment. I am not entirely sure why.

         Then she stops suddenly, terror etching her features. My heart pounds when she lets out an agonizing scream. “Look out!” A scream you never thought you would hear outside of a movie, one that feels fictional, surreal.

         Everything moves like I’m underwater. I turn to see what she is warning me about. Immediately, I spot a hideous vomit green car speeding toward me, windshield winking in the light of dawn.

         It’s in my eyes, a blinding white light. My left side is entirely numb. I have no idea which way to leap to avoid collision.

         Then, my thoughts go quiet. I have the urge to spread my arms out, accept my fate, give up. It all flickers across my mind a few seconds before the vehicle strikes me with the force of a thousand angry waves.

         “Stop!”

         The screech of tires blends with the howl of the redhead still trying to save me. I roll over the front of the car first, denting the hood, then smack directly into the windshield. I hear the crunch of the glass as it shatters under my body, the halt of the car forcing my body to roll backwards the same way it came.

         I go limp, feeling everything and nothing, as I roll back to the hood then smack hard onto the concrete. I face up, staring at the sky. It is a bright, summer’s day blue. A day  ready to burst with the splendor to come.

I close my eyes, content to feel nothing. A few voices stir around me. I ignore them. I sink into darkness, serene.