Flight
Christy's phone comes alive with a silent text - We're here. Come when you can.
Christy quickly puts the phone back on sleep and hides it under her body. She can hear Tyler snoring on the other side of the bed. She pokes him just to make sure, but he’s fast out. Carefully, Christy manoeuvres herself upright and out of the bed covers, swinging her legs off the side of the bed, before silently placing her feet on the floor. She slowly stands up, watching him for any indication that he’s even vaguely conscious. Nothing, just the snoring. She’s glad now that she had put the sedative in his dinner, there was no way she would dare do this otherwise. And she didn’t feel bad about it, after all, he’d done it enough times to her. Watching him, she creeps around the bed, pausing to collect the neatly folded pile of clothes from the chair in the corner, and makes her very cautious break for the door.
Inching down the hallway into the bathroom, she feels her way along the passageway in the dark, not daring to put a light on. She gets to the bathroom and holding her breath, she turns the knob, lifting the bathroom door slightly as she opens it, to stop it squeaking. Cautiously Christy steps over the loose floorboard and through the door, lifting the door again as she closes it, pausing to take a deep breath. She puts the bundle of clothes on the top of the laundry basket and looks at herself in the mirror. The bruises from the other night are still visible. She inspects her neck and chest further, touching the bruise on her collar bone. The pain makes her wince. She inhales sharply, trying not to cry. Christy closes her eyes, takes a long deep breath in, holding it for as long as she can, and then shakily breaths out. She’s ready.
She ties her hair up, less for him to grab her by if it comes to that. She takes the trousers from the clothes pile and pulls them on. Next the shirt, carefully inserting each arm in turn, mindful of aggravating the other injuries over her body. She buttons the shirt and then arranges it to attempt to cover the bruises. He’s usually more careful where he hits her. Not that she knows why she is hiding them anymore, everyone knows, it's not a particularly well-kept secret. Even some of his friends have started throwing pitying glances her way.
A noise from the hallway causes her to freeze. She listens, ears straining for the slightest evidence that he’s awake, but it’s still the same snoring. It’s safe to keep going. She slips her shoes on, then squats down next to the bath, before carefully wiggling the bath panel open to reveal her bag. It’s taken a long time to devise a safe place to hide things. Taking the bag out, Christy slowly closes the bath panel, scared of making any noise. As she stands, her eyes meet her reflection in the mirror - it’s time to leave.
She lifts the bathroom door open, avoids the loose floorboard, closes the door behind her, and makes her way back down the hallway. A quick glance at the bedroom door on her way past, as she left it, still the same monotonous snoring. She has made it to the stairs. The point of no return. It would be bad if he caught her here. Too easy to “trip and fall” down the stairs. She arranges the bag on her shoulder, and with the other hand takes a tight grip on the banister. She is moving faster now, even as each foot feels for the back of next, not daring to breathe in case it disrupts the flow.
Christy steps off the final step onto the hallway floor. She tries to catch her breath, but she can’t. Her breathing is anxious and pained. The streetlights beckon through the hallway blinds, she’s nearly there. She glides silently to the front door, and takes the secret key out of her pocket. The key slides in the keyhole, and she unlocks the main lock, and next the top and bottom bolt. The bolts move pretty freely, both benefitting from a recent oiling to remove their squeak. Christy pushes down the door leaver and the locks clunk open. She pauses to listen. No change in the sound from upstairs. Opening the door just wide enough to get out, Christy looks behind her and up the stairs - still safe – before heading outside. She’s almost there. She carefully closes the door and relocks it. He'll think he just forgot to do the bolts when he went to bed. And he won’t miss her in the morning straight away, he’ll think she’s already off completing his list of demands. Each second of distraction gives her time to get further away.
Christy puts the key back in her pocket, she doesn’t know if she might need it again. She walks quickly down the street to where her friend Marie’s car is parked on a neighbour’s driveway. An unknown car down parked on the street at night would look too conspicuous, but a visitor to a neighbour is easily forgotten. It’s the house of the neighbour who is kind to her, who would do anything for her. Who’d hastily purchased the things she’d missed off the shopping list, to save her getting into trouble. Who knows without asking that things are not good. Who let Marie know what she’d seen and heard, and that it was much worse than Christy was telling anyone.
As she gets to the driveway, Marie and her boyfriend get out of the car. Christy sees that have brought Marie’s cousin too, just in case. Dropping her bag on the floor, Christy collapses into Marie’s hug, who envelops her friend in her arms, and the silent tears flow for both women. No words are needed but they are not safe yet.
The cousin puts Christy’s bag in the boot and the boyfriend opens the back door, gesturing for both women to get in. Christy gets in first and slides across the seat to make room for Marie. The boyfriend carefully pushes the door shut and Christy and Marie put their seatbelts on, while Marie’s boyfriend gets in the driver seat. Christy looks at her neighbour’s window, where through a sliver of a gap in the curtains, she spies the woman, the smallest glint of a smile on her features. Christy wipes her eyes.
The cousin pushes the car from the passenger side down the slope of the driveway, and hops in as it starts to roll. It’s too risky to switch the engine on and disturb the neighbourhood. At the end of the driveway, they turn onto the street, gently picking up speed. Christy looks again out of the back window, making sure that nothing is following them. Her breathing is still shallow and out of the corner of her eye, Christy can see Marie watching her, and knows that Marie can see the bruises on her neck. She turns to look at her friend, watching as Marie’s eyes well up as she gently takes Christy’s hand, squeezing it in her own.
The junction at the end of the street is empty and they turn onto the main road without needing to stop. They are far enough away now from the house to start the engine, and the headlights light the road ahead. Christy feels her face relax slightly as she tries to smile at Marie. Still, her gaze is drawn through the back window, but now she is inhaling deeply, before exhaling completely. She repeats this a few more times until she can finally breathe. Turning her gaze to the side window, Christy watches as they drive out of the neighbourhood. Street by street, she feels slightly lighter. As they reach the last street, Christy relaxes a little into the seat and finally dares to turn her gaze forward.
She’s out.