Laura
The street was empty, with only the sound of my uneven breaths and the crunch of gravel beneath my feet. My legs felt like they were giving out, but I kept pushing, half stumbling as I clutched my side. My aunt's house came into view, the single light in the window a beacon, pulling me closer.
When I reached the door, I pounded on it, each knock sending a jolt of pain through my battered body. "Please, please open up," I whispered, hardly able to breathe.
I stayed at the door, shivering in the cold night air, one hand trembling as I continued to knock. My other hand still clutched tightly to my side, where Jackson's last blow had left a dull ache that radiated through my whole body. After what felt like an eternity, the porch light flicked on, and I finally heard footsteps inside, and then the door swung open, revealing my aunt's startled face. Her eyes went wide, and she gasped as she took in my appearance, blood on my face, bruises across my arms and neck.
"Oh my goodness, Laura?" She exclaimed, her hand conversing her mouth as she crouched down, hands hovering around me, unsure where to touch. "Oh my God, you're bleeding… What happened? Tell me everything. Who did this to you?"
My knees finally buckled, and she caught me just before I hit the ground. The warmth of her arms around me was a relief, but I could barely find the strength to speak. "He… he tried to kill me," I choked out, my voice broken. "I… I didn't mean to… I just had to stop him…"
I collapsed onto her couch, my body feeling like it would give out any second. Her gentle hands on my shoulders were both comforting and overwhelming.
"It's Jackson," I managed to say, my voice shaking as I recounted the events of the night. "He...he came home, drunk...and tried to force himself on me, like he always does, but this time...I fought back." I looked away, tears streaming down my face. "I didn't mean to...but I couldn't take it anymore."
She was silent, but I felt her grip tighten, her gaze steady on me as I continued. "I grabbed a bottle...and just kept hitting him. I don't know how many times." My voice cracked. "When he stopped moving, I realized… I'd killed him. Auntie, I just wanted him to stop…"
Without another word, she stood and began gathering a first-aid kit from her bathroom, returning quickly. "We'll take care of your wounds first. Then...we'll talk about what's next."
She dabbed at my cuts, her hands steady and focused, but I could see the worry etched into her face. After a moment, she spoke. "You can't stay here, Laura. We'll have to get you new documents, a fresh start."
"But how? I don't have anything, not even my ID," I said, panic lacing my voice.
"Leave that to me," she said firmly, pulling out her phone. She walked to the corner of the room and made a quick call to someone I didn't know. "Hello? Yes, I need you to arrange new documents for my niece," she spoke quietly. "It's urgent… No, cost isn't an issue, but it has to be quick." She glanced at me, giving a reassuring nod. "Thank you."
Turning back, she gave me a tired smile. "They'll meet us at the airport tomorrow morning. Just rest for now, Laura. You're safe here."
"But where will I go? I don't have anyone else apart from you." I let out.
"Of course you do. Your cousin, my daughter. She stays in Atlanta, and I'm sure she will be happy to have you around." She let out and before I could say another word, Arlene's voice was already sound over the phone.
"She's getting on the first flight tomorrow morning." My aunt said and after a few replies, she hung up and seeing the way she smiled at me, I knew it was a success.
"She will be at the airport tomorrow to pick you up." She let out.
I felt relief wash over me and, for the first time in years, I felt like I could breathe. That night, I lay awake on her couch, unable to shake the guilt but finally feeling a faint glimmer of hope.
The next morning, I woke up and saw my aunt packing a small bag.
"I packed a few of your things you left here and some other things I feel you might need." I didn't even know what to say as tears rolled down my face.
"You shouldn't be crying, Laura. Now is not the time for that." She chimed in.
"Of course, I should auntie. You warned me not to marry him. You saw it all from the start and begged me not to be carried away by the way he was lovebombing me. I didn't listen and that's why I'm here right now, full of physical and emotional scars. I really wish I listened to you…" the tears flooded more and my heart ached deeply.
"It's fine, Laura. We all make mistakes, you know. You were in love and there was no way you could have know he was that kind of a man. Stop blaming yourself… what if I was wrong and he turned out to be the best husband ever? Wouldn't you be regretting it if you had left him then?" she quizzed and then pulled me into a hug.
As we were leaving, she placed her hands on my shoulders, looking me in the eyes. "This is your chance to rebuild, Laura. Don't look back."
We drove in silence to the airport. My aunt held my hand tightly, giving me strength. At the terminal, a man approached us, tall, wearing a long coat. He handed her an envelope, and she slipped him an envelope of cash.
"Thank you," she said, and he nodded before disappearing into the crowd.
Handing me the envelope, she whispered, "Here you go. New name, new life. You can make it, Laura."
I hugged her, the weight of her love and sacrifice overwhelming me. "Thank you for everything. I love you so much. I will come you see you some day…"
By the time the plane touched down in Atlanta, Arlene was waiting just past security, her eyes lighting up as she saw me. She rushed forward, wrapping me in a hug. "You're safe now, Laura. Let's go home."
The drive to Arlene's place felt surreal. She chattered about all the things she'd planned for us, places to visit, recipes to try, but I was lost in a fog of relief and fear, grateful yet anxious about the unknown ahead.
Over the next few days, Arlene took care of me, checking in often to make sure I was comfortable. By the end of the week, she looked at me over breakfast and said, "Laura, I've scheduled a therapy appointment for you. I think it'll help to work through...everything."
Though hesitant, I agreed. My first session was terrifying. Sitting across from a stranger, opening up about the darkest parts of my life, felt impossible. But each session chipped away at my pain, at my guilt, and, slowly, I began to heal.
Over the next six months, therapy became a lifeline. I learned to forgive myself, to release the anger and fear I'd been holding onto for so long. On my last session, I felt a strange mix of gratitude and freedom.
Arlene and I decided to celebrate that night. We went to a club, letting loose for the first time in what felt like forever. And that's where I met Jake, the rest, as they say, was history…