“Not unless she tells me who did it. I’ve called the police, and she refuses to talk to them. She said she fell. They questioned the boyfriend, and he said he was at his office late that night. He said that Whitley left the party without him, and he had to stay for an emergency. He has witnesses saying he was there. He told the police that when he got home, she was lying at the bottom of the stairs. ”
Court let out a small laugh. “Of course. He has it all neatly wrapped up, like always. She must have done something to really piss him off. He’s pretty good about hiding it. I only just found out a few months ago that he has hit her before. ”
I coughed to let them know I was awake, but the pain that shot through my head and jaw about had me yell out.
“Whit, don’t move, honey. You’re in the hospital. ” Court leaned down and whispered in my ear, “I’m going to kill that asshole for doing this to you. ”
I slowly smiled. I looked over her shoulder at the tall, dark-haired woman standing there. I remembered her talking to me earlier.
“Can I only have certain people come into my room?” I asked.
She slightly grinned. “Yes, but your fiancé would like information on how you’re doing. He was in here earlier and left you those roses. ” She gestured toward the window.
I turned and saw two-dozen pink roses. “Please throw them out,” I said as I felt tears building in my eyes.
“Gladly! Fucker couldn’t even get red. ” Courtney walked over and picked up the roses. “I think I’ll leave them in the sweet lady’s room next door. ”
I watched as she walked out of the room with the roses in hand. I glanced back at the woman standing there. “I know what you think of me. ”
She shook her head. “No, Whitley, you don’t. You see, I’ve been exactly where you are right now—feeling so broken, like there is no way out. But there is. There are people who can help you if you would just let them. ”
“I’m sorry. What’s your name again?” I asked.
“Monica. ”
“Monica, I just want to leave New York City and forget I ever met him. Please just let me do this my way. ”
She took a deep breath and looked me in the eyes. “Whitley, please, please press charges against him. Let him know he can’t do this to you or any other girl for that matter. ”
Courtney walked back in, stopped, and glanced between Monica and me. “Should I leave?”
I smiled at Monica and shook my head. “I was just telling Monica about my plans to move and leave New York as soon as possible. ”
Monica’s smile faded just a bit, but she nodded. “I hope you know what you’re doing, honey. Please do it. Please leave him as soon as possible. ”
I smiled. “I promise, I will. ”
Courtney watched Monica step out, and then she turned to face me. “Why, Squeak? Why won’t you put his ass in jail?”
“Court…please don’t ever call me Squeak again. Please. ”
Since middle school, I’d been called Squeak because I had such a high-pitched voice. Court had started it, but Roger loved the nickname, and he’d called me that since we began dating.
I thought back to the night before when he had touched me and whispered it in my ear. I felt sick to my stomach.
Never again.
Court looked at me funny and made a face. “Whit, what did he do to you? How long has this been going on? I want the truth please. ”
I closed my eyes and felt tears building. When I opened my eyes, the tears began rolling down my face. “About six months after we moved to New York, while we were getting ready to go to a dinner party, we got into a fight about what I was wearing. He told me I looked like a whore, and I called him an asshole. He slapped me so hard that I had to put makeup on to cover the mark on my face. The whole way to the party, he begged me to forgive him, and he even cried. ”
Courtney shut her eyes, and when she opened them, I saw her tears. I smiled weakly at her.
“The next time?”
“It was months later. Things were great until I talked to a neighbor outside our apartment building. He was a runner, like me, and he was telling me about a marathon. Roger saw us chatting when he walked up. The moment we stepped into our apartment, he grabbed my arm and started yelling at me. When I told him to stop, he pushed me, and I fell. I hit my head on the coffee table and started crying. He begged me to forgive him…and I did.
“I just accepted the fact that he was jealous, so I never talked to guys—any guys, even old friends from home. But it got worse. It continued with the clothes I wore or how I walked in front of other men. Once, I embarrassed him in front of his coworkers at a Christmas party, and when we got home, he yelled at me. We were at the top of the stairs, and when I tried to push past him, he grabbed me and shook me so hard that the room started spinning. I told him he was hurting me, and when he let me go, he pushed me, and I fell down the stairs. That was how I really broke my wrist. ”