Page 3 of Sin

*****

When I wake the next morning, I find myself on the floor at the foot of our bed. The sheets crumpled, proof that Tyson slept in our bed while he left me on the floor. I'm still in the dress from the night before. My hair in clumps on the floor beside me, my body sore, as it always is after an “episode”. That’s what I've come to call them. Not fight, or arguments, but episodes. I would love to have a normal fight, or a rational argument without the fear of being physically hurt.

With the shower running, I step out of the dress I’ll never wear again, looking at myself in the full-length mirror. I really look because the woman who’s standing in front of me is not someone I recognize. Isn’t that normal, though? Those who are abused don’t know who they are. They change; they become less of the person they used to be. A shell of a human and looking in my mirror, all I see is a shadow of my former self.

There's faded bruises along my legs. Bites marks along my breasts from a week ago when he wanted something rough. He wanted me tied to the bed, gagged, immobile. I know I've had a cracked rib and a fractured wrist over the years, I felt the bones pop. I'm sure there have been other injuries that should have been looked at by a physician, but it’s always been up to Tyson as to when I need to see a physician since it's he who pays for it. He told me it's to help with not putting the burden of another bill on my parents, or me, but I know it's about control.

In the mirror, I see my face is swollen and bruised, my left eye worse than my right. He wears a large ring on his left hand, the evidence of that is on my cheek. He’s never hit me on the face before, yeah he's slapped me, but never to leave this much destruction. It'll take weeks to heal, weeks of me hiding away in the house to avoid my parents finding out what their daughter has become. A punching bag for a man she's supposed to love. Love, ha. What a load of crap! I'm not sure love is something that I've ever felt for Tyson. Our relationship went bad way before love could have ever factored into the equation. Now, after four years, it's fear that keeps me here.

Four years ago, I thought I'd met the man of my dreams. Why did I even go to that bar that night? I shouldn’t have been there. I was only nineteen. Legally, I wasn't old enough to even be there. I had tests to study for and I wasn’t going to be passing anything if I kept tossing back shooters all night. But I was young, in college and I wanted to have fun for once. School, grades, studying and being the best I could be was important to me. I wanted to show my parents that the struggles they went through to provide for me weren’t for nothing. That the chance they'd taken by adopting me wasn’t for nothing.

*****

“Seriously, Savannah, that guy over there is looking at you. He can’t keep his eyes off of you.”

I turn to see whom my best friend, Jenni, is talking about. “He’s not looking this way.” I say as I turn back around.

“He totally is, honest to God, Savannah, he is looking.”

I glance back again, catching him jerk his head in the opposite direction. He’s been caught. I smile at the fact that some guy in a suit is checking me out. “So what if he is, Jenni? There's tons of girls in here.”

“Yeah, and that boy only has eyes for you.”

*****

The warm water burns my scalp as it runs through my hair. I continue to pull clumps of blonde hair from my head. The water runs down my legs, swirling around the drain. I feel like I’ve lost myself. I watch the water leave the shower, a slight tint of pink as the clear water mixes with my blood. My vision is impaired. The swelling caused my left eye to halfway shut. I touch the puffiness of my cheek and wince in pain. I wonder if my cheekbone is fractured, if it should be checked out or if I'll be able to be seen if it needs to.

The sobs break through my chest before I can stop them. Four years of pain, four years of feeling as if I'm nothing, that I'm useless, is hitting me head on. With every throb of pain that runs throughout my body, I'm hit with a memory. How can something that I'd felt was so right turn out to be so wrong? How can I trust myself with life altering decisions for a child when I couldn’t even decide what's best for me throughout the past four years?

My life and what I had hoped it would become goes down the drain along with my hair.

*****

“Hi.” I feel the warmth of his breath on my ear.

I look over my shoulder and see the guy in the suit standing next to me. “Hi.” I blush. Up close, I can tell he's older than I am.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here before.”

“I’ve never been.”

“And why is that?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Better than most.”

“I’m only nineteen.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “Well, nineteen, I’m Tyson.”

“Hi, Tyson, I’m Savannah. This is my best friend, Jenni.”

“Hi, Jenni, it’s nice to meet you.” he says to her but he never takes his eyes off me.

*****

That night will forever represent one of my biggest regrets. The night I led with my heart and not with my gut. Taking his number, feeling his lips upon my neck was just the beginning of the end. I wanted my life to be so much more. More than what it has now become. Yes, I'd obtained my bachelor’s, but I want more. I want to get my MBA. I want to work and make something of myself, but Tyson has made it clear that he isn’t going to let that happen. I'm surprised he allowed me to finish my bachelor degree. Education isn’t needed when all you're expected to do is look good on your man’s arm and attend an occasional luncheon. How did my life come to this? I wasn’t born into money. Hell, my birthmother would have rather lived her life high, than raise me, her child. Her own flesh and blood. My adoptive parents are your typical middle-class family. Both have good jobs. Both worked to provide for me. How did I end up like this?