Four

FOUR

Josie

It never dawned on me that the mere idea of things actually being able to turn around in my life could motivate me. For far too long, everything had just felt positively hopeless. Even with the determination I had now to get out of my current situation, feeling like I finally had a way to make it happen with my new job, I still hadn't felt that glimmer of hope.

Maybe that was my way of protecting myself. I'd tried to have hope before, and I wound up right back in the same spot I'd been in as a kid. It was difficult not to believe I was destined for a life of this, a lifetime of abuse.

But everything changed three days ago.

In the days that followed since Huck came to the diner, gracing me with his presence for the first time in years when I never thought I'd see him again, I started feeling hopeful. I wanted to believe he was a sign of better things to come.

I allowed myself to believe things were heading in the right direction. Maybe, just maybe, I'd be able to have a good life, after all.

Of course, I didn't expect it would come easily. I knew I was going to have to work hard for it—I had already intended to do that much, anyway—but it was nice to have something more than just freedom to look forward to. Could I get back a friendship that meant the world to me?

It was, for the first time in a very long time, nice to live inside my own head. I hadn't enjoyed the thoughts that had consumed my mind for years, but now, it wasn't so bad. In fact, it was wonderful to be distracted, even if for only short periods of time, by thoughts of Huck.

He was a solace for me. Thinking about him brought me such peace. And I thought of everything when it came to him. Nothing was off limits. I reminisced for long periods of time about all the things he'd done for me in high school, how sweet he'd been to me. I recalled the way it felt when he first shared his lunch with me. I remembered the days we shared bagel sandwiches for breakfast. And even if I hadn't thought about it since it happened, I found myself having recollections about the trips we'd taken to the library and the conversations we had there.

But my thoughts over the last three days weren't solely about the childhood memories I had with Huck. Apparently, it was entirely possible to spend hours thinking about the brief encounter we'd had at the diner. I couldn't seem to get the way he looked at me out of my mind. I was constantly assaulted by the sound of his voice, my eyes popping open in the middle of the night, recalling it and the way it made me feel. And the one thing I hadn't been able to forget was the way he'd wrapped his arms around me and held on like he never wanted to let me go. That memory had been the one to give me the most hope.

All of it was good. All of it made me happier than I'd been since I saw him last, particularly the idea that Huck might have had some interest in me that went beyond friendship.

Was that strange? Was it wrong? Did it make me crazy? Foolish?

At this point in my life, dealing with what I'd been dealing with for so long, the last thing I should have been thinking about was a romantic relationship with anyone. What I probably should have been doing was focusing solely on everything I needed to do to get away from Kurt. I knew that was the most logical thing, but I'd been living in such a state of doom and gloom for so long that I wanted desperately to latch on to any possibility of a better future.

Because if I couldn't dream of a better tomorrow, why was I even trying to get myself out of this mess? Having lived in a state of despair for so long, I needed these thoughts of Huck to uplift me and get me through.

They'd been doing exactly that, and I didn't think I needed to feel bad about wanting something more for myself down the line. Deep down, I knew he was the reason. It was because it was Huck that I was even able to consider any of it a possibility in my life.

I knew him; I felt safe with him. And until I could hopefully make those dreams a reality, I wasn't going to stop myself from doing what I needed to do to get through the worst days of my life now.

Of course, it was entirely possible I was being na?ve. Or, again, foolish.

Because I should have recognized that being okay with allowing myself to be distracted by Huck would lead to making a mistake in areas of my life where I couldn't afford to do such a thing.

And that was precisely what happened as I finished making dinner.

I'd just strained the pasta and was adding the sauce to it when the front door opened and slammed shut. I jumped at the sound, nearly knocking over the pot of pasta in the process. Fortunately, I'd saved it from ruin just in time to glance at the clock.

It was fifteen minutes later than Kurt usually got home.

I didn't need to be a genius to draw the conclusion that him slamming the door and getting home late was a sign that something bad had happened. The only question that remained was what it was and if I was going to be blamed for it. Because even if Kurt had been fine when he left for work this morning, and I hadn't seen or spoken to him since, it was not unfathomable to believe Kurt would find a way to blame me for whatever went wrong in his day.

Having learned how to best handle these situations, I stayed where I was, my back to the mouth of the kitchen, and continued to work on finishing up dinner. The last thing I needed to do was make his bad day worse than it already was.

But no matter how hard I'd prayed Kurt wouldn't blame me, I knew I didn't stand a chance when he stomped into the kitchen and violently threw empty plastic containers from his lunch into the sink.

I tensed, squeezing my eyes shut and pressing my lips together. I was bracing for impact. It was coming. I didn't doubt it.

"Where's the fucking mail, Josie?" he shouted.

I wanted to tell him it was where I always put it, where I knew he expected to find it every day, but I wasn't that stupid. "It's on top of the coffee table," I said quietly.

"You're talking about today's mail," he seethed.

Confused, I stupidly looked in his direction and asked, "Isn't that what you're asking about?"

Kurt stepped close, my hands instantly gripping the edge of the counter. "Why the fuck would I be asking you about that mail? Do you think I'm so stupid that I wouldn't remember where to find the mail when it's in the same place every day?"

Once again, I had wanted to say something that never came past my lips—I'd been wondering the exact same thing. But without any clarification as to what he was referring to, I was lost.

"I don't think you're stupid, Kurt. I was wrong for assuming that's what you meant," I returned, knowing it was always best to take the blame even when I didn't know why I was doing it.

Shaking his head, a look of disgust on his face, he spat, "You're such a worthless piece of trash, Josie. You know that?"

I swallowed hard. I hated when he asked me questions like that. Even if I already knew what he believed when he asked that question, it was still never easy to admit I agreed with him. Unfortunately, there was no other option, because going against whatever Kurt said would do little to help me in a situation that was already beyond tense and terrifying. "I'll still try to help you find whatever you're looking for," I croaked.

Anything.

I was willing to do anything not to let this situation get any worse.

"I'm talking about the mail that you were supposed to take care of," he roared. "Mail that you were supposed to go through and handle."

It took two or three seconds for me to figure out what he was talking about. The evening before Huck had shown up at the diner, Kurt had handed me the mail he needed me to address. Often, he'd hold on to the bills until there was enough money set aside to pay them. Then, when he had what he needed in the bank account to cover the bills, he'd hand them off to me with the expectations that I'd take care of submitting those payments.

My plan had been to pay them all the following day after I returned from work.

I couldn't quite recall what specific bills he'd given me that evening, but what I did know was that I'd been so distracted by seeing Huck for the first time, I forgot about the bills entirely.

Oh, God.

Oh, God, he was going to lose his mind.

"Kurt," I whispered. "I'm so sorry. I forgot about the bills. Did you receive a call about one of them?"

There was one part of my brain that was still functioning and logical, even if the rest of my body felt like it had shut down and was trembling with fear. That part of my brain recognized that it had only been a couple of days since he'd handed me those bills. He didn't typically wait until the very last minute. And even if something had been late, I didn't think it was possible he would have been notified already.

"You forgot?" he shouted. "How could you forget? What could have been more important than doing what I told you to do?"

I shook my head and made the foolish decision to turn fully to face him. "Nothing. I'm sorry. I can go take care of them right now. Why don't you sit down and enjoy your dinner, and I'll get everything sorted with the bills now?"

His lip curled with disgust as he reached behind his back. My jaw clenched, waiting for the impact of his fist on my face. But I was surprised that never happened. Instead, Kurt pulled two separate pieces of paper out of his back pocket and shoved them in my face. "I owe hundreds of dollars more now, because your stupid ass didn't renew the registration on the truck. I got pulled over on the way home for speeding, and the officer gave me a ticket for that as well as the expired registration."

Oh, no.

All I could do was apologize and promise to fix the issue. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll take care of the registration right away."

"Yeah? And what about the fines, Josie?" he pressed, stepping forward and bringing his face to within inches of mine.

If intimidation was his tactic, Kurt succeeded every time.

"I'll pay the fine," I whispered.

"The money you make is supposed to be covering other things," he reminded me, anger dripping from every word.

I swallowed hard again, the pain in my throat unbearable. "I'll pick up extra shifts."

Kurt tossed the tickets aside, but my eyes didn't follow where they landed. I was too afraid to tear my eyes away from his face.

Of course, my determined effort not to get distracted by anything but Kurt's face was futile, because he brought both hands to my shoulders and shoved me backward.

I stumbled, the left side of my back colliding hard with the door frame on the opposite side of the kitchen from where Kurt had originally entered. I winced in pain, and Kurt didn't miss the opportunity to throw it in my face.

"Did that hurt your back?"

My voice was small when I replied, "Yes."

He shoved me again. "I don't think it's that bad yet. I think you need to feel a level of pain that matches the embarrassment I had to feel when I handed that expired registration over to the officer."

"I'm sorry, Kurt. I promise I'll fix it. Please, don't do this," I begged him.

"I guess I'm sorry, too," he returned, the sarcasm evident in his tone. "I'm sorry, I can't ignore this. You need to be taught a lesson."

That was the last thing my mind managed to register before it happened. Kurt shoved me hard against the wall again, only this time, it wasn't just my ribs that collided with the wall, but the back of my head as well.

In a move even more cruel than that, Kurt used his foot to sweep my legs out from under me. My body crashed to the ground, pain radiating into my shoulder and hip as my forearm was pinned between my body and the hard floor. I rolled slightly to my front to alleviate the strain on my injured side and arm, but it only gave Kurt the ability to do more damage.

His foot connected with my ribs on one side while the wall pressed into them on the other. He didn't stop, his assault relentless.

If there was one thing I'd learned about Kurt in a situation like this, it was that he was lazy. He was very different from my father, who would put in extra work to injure multiple parts of my body.

Kurt wasn't like that. He'd decide on his method of attack, and he'd repeat that move over and over until he felt like I'd received the punishment he believed I deserved. Today, it was my ribs that were going to take the brunt of the assault.

I wanted to fight back; I often did in situations like this. I wasn't sure that even made the situation better for me, but right now, there was nothing I could do. The blows to my ribs were so brutal, I was fighting to catch my breath.

Regardless of how Kurt attacked me, one thing was always the same. Time became imperceptible. I had no concept of it. It could have lasted five minutes, but it would feel like five hours. Time always felt like it was dragging whenever Kurt was taking his fists to my face or his kicks to my body.

And all throughout, he shouted at me. I was never able to pay attention to what was coming out of his mouth, but I could always recall the volume of his voice later. Sometimes, if it wasn't the recollection of the blows to my body that did it, it would be the memory of his yelling that would wake me from my sleep.

I didn't know how long it lasted, but eventually, Kurt stopped. I had to believe he knew how much damage he'd done to me, and yet, it didn't stop him from saying, "Get your ass up and fix my dinner."

My body was in agony, screaming at me with each movement I made. I had to get up, though. Because if I didn't do as Kurt asked, I would only set myself up for more of what I'd just gotten.

So, I tried my best to get to my feet, winced with each step toward the stove, and fixed Kurt's dinner. The moment I set it down on the table in front of him, he ordered, "Now, get out of my face."

I was grateful for that command. The last place I wanted to be was anywhere near him. So, I didn't mind that he wanted to eat alone. I'd walk away, give him the time he wanted on his own, and try to regain control of my breathing and the pounding of my heart. After he was done, I'd return to the kitchen and clean everything up before grabbing some icepacks and heading to bed.

Fortunately for me, Kurt had not another word to say to me the rest of the night. But as I sat alone with my thoughts, one thing became clear to me.

I had to find a way to stop thinking about Huck. Because if I continued to allow myself to be distracted by him, it was possible I was going to wind up dead.