Born on the Outskirts

There was something she could not ignore this time; something about him looked utterly feral. His eyes almost dead, staring at her as though she were prey. She had been frightened before but not quite like this.

This time it would be worse, much worse. Her body tensed against the impending attack. She never knew which she dreaded more, the anticipation or the act itself, the smirks as she pleaded with him to stop.

Afterwards, she had curled up against the headboard, moving as far away as she possibly could. Outwardly begging him to leave but inwardly yearning for him to put his arms around her and make everything alright again.

Casually he buckled his belt and left for work without a word. The room stank raw. She had stayed that way for as long as she could. Until the baby started crying, then no choice but to force herself up onto wobbly legs, using the new bedsheets to wipe away the afterglow.

Her daughter could not see her like this. Wrapping a soft dressing gown around her tender frame, she put on her best brave face. Big girls don’t cry. Picking up the baby, she breathed her in deeply. Luna's sleep time warmth and soft podgy fingers against her skin were a salve against the pain.

Gingerly with the baby in her arms, she made her way to his study and fumbled underneath the desk for the black notebook she knew was taped there. She’d spotted it when the bins need changing but hadn't been brave enough to touch it then.

Sitting down in front of the computer, she chewed on her lip until it tore, tasting more blood. Mentally she scanned her tattered body; bite marks littered her breasts. They were so swollen; it looked like she had, had an augmentation. The irony of that, he was always telling her how much she needed one since Luna had been born.

She could hardly breathe through the swelling around her throat, and although she hadn’t checked, she instinctively knew that there were fingerprints this time. He couldn’t help himself; he’d gone too far. Everything felt undone. Her labia ached.

She thumbed the corner of the pages but couldn’t quite bring herself to open it; what if it didn’t... It had too. She reached into the draw and lit a cigarette, knowing that she shouldn’t be smoking in front of the baby. She needed a drink as well. Mothers guilt was never far away.

She couldn't stop shaking as she waved away the smoke. The baby amused herself by crawling up her jittery leg, bouncing up and down, playing horsey, horsey. Not a care in the world. Luna, the image of her Father, blue eyes and that wide-toothed grin. Love personified, born from what? From who? In need of dutch courage, she pulled the whiskey bottle from the bottom draw. It was and always had been the root of all of their problems.

Taking a long swig, she winced as the alcohol hit her gums and stung. Why he always stuck his finger into her mouth so viciously, she would never understand. Probably for the same reason he liked to squeeze the life out of her. Her skin felt icy cold with an unrelenting chill, covered in an oily sheen, sex mixed sweat, mixed with fear. You could almost smell the adrenaline leaking from her pores. It stank. Absentmindedly she stroked the tattoo of his initials upon her inside wrist.

No, not again, next time she was sure she wouldn’t survive. Every time it was getting worse. Taking another long swig she picked the baby up and sniffed her chubby neck. Taking a hit of that new baby smell for strength. She flicked through the notebook until she found what she needed.

Bets.

Collections.

PollyAnnah's, which she assumed was the latest brothel.

Account Details.

Her heart jumped, her bank account. He had been hoarding her wages for two years before the baby had arrived. Had said they needed the money. How else would they support a baby? Logging in she prayed that the money would still be in there. Very much doubting that he would have spent it, where was the ego trip in actually needing to use it?

Her account flashed up on the screen. Available balance $36,542.00 she could withdraw $20,000.00 in one transaction. Her knees buckled beneath her as she let out a wild howl, a sound she didn’t realise she was capable of making. Luna giggled and pawed at her cheeks.

Funny Mummy.

They only had one chance. He would freeze the account once he knew; that would be the very least of it, but thinking about that didn't help.

It was enough to flee, enough to go, hide, disappear, but where? She looked at Luna. Could she manage, could she be enough of a mother for her baby alone? She felt shredded.

Leaving Luna under the desk in the study, she ran from cupboard to cupboard, grabbing whatever came to hand. Some leggings, a bra, baby grows, just enough to get them through the next few days. Suddenly more desperate than ever to get away from here.

There wasn’t much she wanted to take, other than the picture of her grandmother. The babies footprints made into bunnies ears for Easter.

Her Father’s watch. She could do this. She had to.

Delicately she pulled on her tracksuit, catching sight of herself in the mirror and stopped dead. Who was the woman staring back at her? She had aged dramatically since Luna had been born, couldn't recognise herself at all. Her eyes looked sunken, her skin waxy and grey. The stress of keeping the baby away from him had taken its toll. He liked to casually mention that Luna would be taken care of if anything ever happened to her. She had noted the threat for what it was.

With each frantic step, she felt more powerful than before; they could do it this time, they could get away. One-click, and they were gone. She returned to the study and pressed enter before she could talk herself out of it. Money sent to the safety account Joe had convinced her to open up months ago.

No going back now.

Pulling Luna up, she headed for the door. Stopping in her tracks, the skin on her hip felt suddenly wet. Luna’s nappy had leaked all over her. Panic rose in her throat. Dumping the bags by the front door, she raced back to the bedroom and put the baby on the bed. There was no need to panic. It wouldn’t take a minute. Her hands shook as she pulled off the sodden nappy, fumbling for the wipes; her shaking overtook her. She spilt talcum powder everywhere. Luna looked like an iced bun.

Going into the kitchen to wet a cloth, she froze at the screech of tyres on the tarmac. It couldn’t be. He wasn’t due home for hours. Even if the app he used to monitor their accounts had alerted him to the withdrawal, he couldn’t make it back that quickly. He should have been in a meeting by now.

Creeping over to the window, she peered out between the blinds. Relief flooded through her. It was only Margie for their Tuesday coffee date. Shit. She would have to let the bell ring. Tears sprang to her eyes with the realisation that they wouldn’t see each other again anytime soon. Who knew when, who knew if. It had been a small husk of a life, but it had been hers and was the only one she knew.

The bell rang, and Luna shrieked loudly, mimicking the noise; returning to the bedroom, she shushed her as quietly as she could and slunk into the bathroom. Gently closing the door behind her, sliding crossed-legged to the floor with the baby held close, all of her energy suddenly spent.

Absolutely exhausted, she silently prayed for Margie to leave. Every minute counted now. Each time the bell rang, it sent a jolt of electricity through her veins. After what felt like an eternity, the coast was finally clear.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped out into the hallway and took a long last look at what had been her home for the past 12 years.

The kitchen where the had made pancakes together, dissolving into fits of giggles when he had unsuccessfully tried to flip one, and it had stuck to the ceiling. The couch where they had made tender, beautiful love in the beginning and cried together when she had found out she was pregnant.

The photographs all over the walls of trips to Belize, Costa Rica, India and the Alps. Looking at that couple, you would say they were love itself.

What had changed so dramatically? When had it turned into this?

Burying her head in Luna’s shoulder, she allowed herself to cry for the life that would never be. All hope extinguished. Despite the madness, she would still miss him and grieve the man she thought she knew.

The man from the beginning.

One last look around, and she turned towards the door, steeling herself to exit out of her life. She reached for the handle, but there was movement on the other side. Keys in the lock. Shit. The door burst open.

There he stood, sneering at her. Red hot rage palpable his jaw set tight. He yanked the baby from her arms. Luna let out a squeal of delight.

“Hello, Luna. Daddy’s home”.