From the darkness of sweet oblivion she awakened to gnawing pain. It took her some time to realize she was lying on the floor in the living room. She tried to sit up, but a lancing pain her side nearly caused her to scream. When she did manage to sit up she had to hold her arm tightly to her side, there was no doubt in her mind that ribs were broken. Her left eye was swollen shut and she could taste the unmistakable metallic taste of blood in her mouth. It was only when she realized she was naked from the waist down that her dazed mind began to function and when it did the memories crashed in on her like a violent surf.
She and Damon, her husband of almost two years had been arguing. This time it had been about money. He had been unemployed for six months and the small amount she made at the local community college wasn't enough to make rent, much less utilities and food. She remembered screaming at him for spending the money she had set aside for rent on an evening at the bar with his buddies. The holidays were coming and she hadn't even managed to sock enough away for presents for her family. His squandering of the rent money had set her off. Normally she was very shy and submissive, but that had been the last straw. She hadn't realized he was still drunk or she might have held her tongue even then.
This time his angry words had ended in violence; she had not even seen the backhanded slap that sent her crashing into the glass top coffee table. Lori began to cry as she remembered him hitting her again and again until the blows seemed like they would never stop. He was cursing and screaming at her as he methodically beat her and even after she curled up into a ball to protect herself the blows kept coming. She barely remembered him ripping her jeans and panties off. Thankfully he had been too drunk to get an erection after he quit beating her and she passed out as he stumbled off towards the bedroom.
She remembered the predictions of her mother, that he would kill her one of these days as she painfully rose to her feet. Lori had not listened. Damon had been everything she had wanted. He was wild, handsome and exciting. She had never been turned on by "nice guys" and had always gravitated to the bad boys. Now she knew her mother had been right and she had to get away. Damon had hit her before, but had always seemed contrite and promised to change his ways. Lori had always stayed and forgiven him. This time had been different, he hadn't stopped after one, and the blows had just kept coming. Lori was a small girl to begin with and months on short rations had left her even more frail than normal. Damon was a large man and in his rage the blows he landed had seriously hurt her.
She staggered to the cramped bathroom, kicking piles of empty pizza boxes and empty beer cans out of her way. The face that greeted her in the mirror shocked her. Her nose was obviously broken, both eyes were black and the left one was swollen shut. Her lips were covered in a crust of blood, her dark hair was matted where the blood from her nose had run down into it and one cheek was deeply cut and still oozing blood. Each breath was a new adventure in pain and she knew a tooth was either broken or missing.
She considered briefly just lying down on the cold tile floor and giving up, but something inside told her that to give up now was to die and so she stumbled into the bedroom. Damon was passed out on the bed with stained boxers and an empty fifth of cheap whiskey still clutched in his hand. Those hands were bloody and the knuckles were swollen.
Lori quietly removed the small bag she usually kept her books in and went to her dresser. She grabbed what was there, a pair of old bras, an unopened package of cotton panties, two clean t-shirts and one pair of jeans. The rest of her meager wardrobe was dirty. Damon considered washing to be "woman's work" and with her working full time the laundry hadn't been done in a week or two. From the overflowing hamper she grabbed her only other pair of jeans and a pair of socks. She took her shoes from the closet, a pair of sneakers and one pair of heels. She dressed quickly and glanced around the room for anything else that was hers. The photo of her and her father and her one Cd were all she could find and she stuffed them into her bag. She looked for her jacket but, it was nowhere to be found and when Damon stirred she decided she could live without it.
As she made her way back to the front door she paused and glanced around the room. The place was a wreck and it was obvious that Damon had demolished more than her body in his rage. Strangely, the sickly Christmas tree in the corner had not been damaged; the gaily winking lights added a surreal quality to the scene. As did the two beautifully wrapped gifts under the tree, both from her to him.
Where am I going? she thought as she closed the door and began walking. She had cut off everyone to be with Damon, her family, her friends, everyone. She was far from home and had practically no money. Several times such thoughts had stopped her from walking out, but now she knew he would kill her one of these nights if she stayed. She hated to admit her marriage was a failure and that everyone had been right all along, but she had to now. That hurt even more than the ribs or her face. She was alone in a strange state and had no one she could call on for help.
A single named leaped to her mind, Margaret. She and Maggie had been best friends since grade school. Damon had been insanely jealous of their close friendship and had forbidden her to speak to Maggie ever again. Lori had complied, even though it hurt and Maggie's sorrowful expression still haunted her when she remembered that last night out together. She wondered if that was a bridge burned or if they were still best friends despite over a year of not communicating. Maggie lived in Manhattan and was the closest person she knew. She could call her mom back in Tennessee, but there would be little her folks could do for her immediately. She stopped at the convenience store on the corner and went into the phone booth. After a few tries she fished some quarters out of her bag and deposited them. She heard the hum and metallic clicking sounds as she dialed zero.
"Thank you for using Verizon, how may I help you?" the somewhat haggard voice said.
"I'd like to place a collect call," Lori managed. Her tongue seemed to stick to the roof of her mouth and she knew she was slurring. With an effort she swallowed and cleared her head. It was cold and the rising wind seemed to cut through her thin shirt and jeans. December was still a week away, but you couldn't tell from the steadily falling temperature. At least the cold was helping to clear her head.
"All right, just dial your number and at the tone say your name. Once your party picks up you will be put on hold while they accept,"
Lori suddenly realized she couldn't remember the number. She didn't have it written down anywhere either. When they were still close she had dialed the number at least twice a week, she closed her eyes and just let her fingers hit the buttons. She hoped they had better recall than her foggy brain. There were several rings then a sleepy "hello?" the line went dead.
"Please state your name," came over the line followed by a tone.
"Lori..Lori Cartwright," she managed. She was put on hold and it seemed an eternity before she was reconnected.
"Thank you for using Verizon," the operator said and then there was quiet.
"Maggie?" Lori asked after a long pause.
"Lori? What's wrong?" The voice was soft, concerned and without a trace of distance or anger. She broke down then, telling Maggie everything through her sobs. When she finished there was silence at the end of the line for a few moments.