Surviving Him (4 page)

“This is weird. I’ve not even been here a day yet,” I mumble to myself.

Katy’s room is right next to ours. We each have our own battles, though they are all similar, running from crazy ass ex-husbands or boyfriends. My ex-husband, Ian, is a first class crazy ass mentalist and doesn’t know when to give up. He got away with beating me for years. The police here in the UK are just starting to recognise domestic abuse as a crime, taking it more seriously.

Katy is the closest thing I have to a best friend. I met her in the refuge and haven’t known her long, but we are like sisters living right next to each other under the same roof. She’s only a few years older than me, and has natural blonde, platinum glossy hair, big green eyes, and freckles on her cheeks. Her slim build makes her look tall, although she’s really only slightly taller than my five-foot-three inches.

Katy and the other girls from the refuge keep me going, keeping everything very focused and positive. They are always there for both me and my daughters and vice versa. I couldn’t ask for a better support network, and it took us landing at the refuge to find that. Karma works in mysterious ways.

Looking forward to the events the next day, I set out the dresses, shoes and other accessories, ready for the morning ahead. Then I take a shower while Kayleigh and Amy get ready for bed. After I get myself sorted for the night, I text my friends goodnight and let them know how anxious I’m feeling about the ceremony and my daughter meeting the Queen. They all tell me to chill the hell out and enjoy it, and to stop worrying about every little thing. They make me promise to send pictures and updates often and they wish us luck. I also text Logan to let him know we are settled in. I didn’t expect to get a reply from him; I haven’t heard from him in months. I text my mum, so she doesn’t worry. Just as we settle down into the giant, comfy beds for the night, my phone buzzes on the bedside table.

Logan is calling.

I slow the BMW as I hit the winding roads leading back to my hometown in the Scottish Borders. After seeing the physiotherapist in Edinburgh, it has been a while since I've been back home. After a six-month stay in hospital, I am still recovering from the hit that cost me so much. My busted up leg that had to be put back together like a fucked up jigsaw puzzle. It’s now made up of mostly metal, skin, and what was left of the bone. I can still use it, but it has cost me possibly my career and the love of my life, who I couldn't protect any more.

It fucking rips me apart because there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. I had to let her go, run for the hills. She had no choice; the bastard has been quiet for years then BANG, he comes after her like a fucking crazy stalker. It has killed me inside every fucking day since; I’ve never felt so useless in my life.

Winding down the window, I take in the familiar scent of the freshly cut grass and flowers, the fresh Scottish air blowing through the window over my face. I breathe it in so deep into my lungs like I need it to stay alive; I can’t get enough of it. The air is cool, fresh, and entirely different to that of the harsh desert air in Iraq.

Grateful to be back in my hometown where I wasn’t target practice for the locals, and at less risk of being shot at or blown up again, I park the car in my parents’ driveway.

A welcoming site if ever there was one. Even though I am glad to be home, my heart remains heavy, fucking broken. I am missing the other half of me: my soul mate, and my whole life. Pulling out my phone and finding Dana’s number staring back at me, I make the call I've been a pussy over not making before. I’ve been wanting to make this call for so long. At first I was too sick to call; the longer I left it, the harder it got for me to do. I mean now, would she want me rocking up back into her life like nothing happened, like we hadn’t spent so long apart? Would she still want me, all fucked up like this? Would she still feel as safe, because I had let her down? Would she want me as much as I want and need her? Rubbing my hand across my forehead as I wait, she takes forever to answer the call, but finally I hear her sweet voice again. She’s my drug, my fucking addiction, my reason for living.

      
I will have her back, if only for a few days. I will have her in my house, in my bed. I can still feel her soft body in my arms, her head on my chest and that sweet scent of hers filling my nostrils. We will always be unbreakable. Nothing is going to take her away from me again, not one single damn thing. Now I'm on my way to being fighting fit, I'm sorting shit out, and I hope Dana wants what I want. That bastard ex of hers needs to know his place. I will break him, rip out his fucking spine and stick his head up his ass if I ever get my hands on him. He deserves it for all that he has put my precious woman through. No woman ever deserves what he did; he is a coward, a waste of space that doesn’t deserve to fucking breathe.

I step out of the room into the hallway and pull the door nearly closed behind me so I don’t wake the girls, and hit the answer button on my phone.

A gentle, deep and husky voice greets me warmly from the other end of the line. It is so good to hear his voice; I haven’t heard it in so long. I close my eyes while his voice, like melted chocolate running down my throat, awakes my sexual desires.

“Hey, how you doing baby? What’s the hotel like? I got your messages, I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch.” His voice alone, a warm baritone, turns me on and awakens a longing deep in my belly that has been asleep for far too long.

“Hey, it’s awesome, really nice. Very high-class compared to that of
where
I am living at that’s for sure; beds big enough to fit a family of six.” In a hushed voice, I tell him all about our trip, and how excited the girls are to be here, and about the huge beds fit for a king and his knights of the round table. As I wrap up my story, I can tell he is smiling. I don’t realize my voice is having the same effect on him until his voice turns lower and raspy. I know that deep, animalistic tone. He is missing my body as much as I am missing his. I can feel my nipples tighten and my breathing quicken and a swirl of pleasure building in my core.

He tells me about how bad his day has been, spendi
ng it at the hospital. He hates not working. He loves
to be on the go, not stopping until he drops. His tone turns even deeper, I’m sure I hear him growl.

“I wish you were here in my bed, baby. I feel like I’ve lost part of my soul, like my limbs have been torn off along with part of my heart. I miss you. I will fix this mess, I’m sorry I couldn’t do a thing to help you. I love you to the moon and back.”

My body stirs at his words.

“I wish you could be here too, Logan, like you wouldn’t believe. A little bit more of my heart breaks every day we’re apart. And please don’t apologise, it’s not your fault.” I just want to be with this beautiful man that knows every part of my body and soul like no one else ever has. He knows every sensitive inch of me. I find myself longing for him, wanting his expert hands on me, pushing all the right buttons until I forget everything else that is shit in my life.

“I miss feeling you against my skin too, Logan. Sometimes it’s like I can’t breathe without you, but I have to go on, keep going regardless.” I sit on the floor outside the hotel room aching for him, for his seductive touch. I twist the ends of my hair that rest on my shoulders, twirling them around my index finger as I listen to his voice. I could sit here all night with him on the other end of the line, addicted to him like a junkie is to drugs. I am horny, frustrated. I need him so badly.

I miss him.

“I will call you tomorrow when I can, Logan. I have to go.” I end the call, preventing a full on phone-sex conversation with him.

I am a mess by the time I terminate the call; I practically melt all over the hallway floor. I have to get my head straight; am I still this hung up on him? “If only I hadn’t ever been married to a complete monster of a man,” I sigh into the plant pot sitting next to me.

The trauma of all that emotional heartbreak, the anxiety, the constant worry that Ian will track me down and try to break me. He would find any excuse to punish and belittle me, grinding me down until I was sure I would die of pure and utter fear.
My experience with my ex will
keep the fear of God in me forever, and make any person untrusting when it comes to relationships.

He not only terrorised me, but he also stalked my friends, scaring them until they didn’t
want anything to do with me ever again. He gained power by isolating
me from everyone that could have provided support and assistance to me and my girls if I had ever tried to leave him. Any time that didn’t work, he would take it out on me even more with his fists; if he couldn’t control me and the people around me, he would turn to threatening to find me, beat me, and kill me if I ever left. My ex-husband, Ian, is the complete opposite of Logan.

I have to keep my girls and me safe, and that means living back in Manchester in the women’s refuge for now.

I have to get this situation sorted out; if it means being alone with my girls forever, then that’s how it will have to be. I stare at the floor a few more minutes with my thoughts then I get my ass to bed.