Shatter Me

  Shatter Me

  by Kim Hartfield

  Published by Kim Hartfield

  Copyright © 2018 Kim Hartfield

  All Rights Reserved

  May not be copied or distributed without prior written permission.

  Cover photo: © Deposit Photo

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  One – Lora

  “You can’t do anything right, can you?” Chantel slammed the kitchen drawer shut and spun toward me, a terrifying light gleaming in her eyes. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. The knives go in the block, not in the drawer.”

  “I-I’m sorry.”

  My girlfriend’s upper lip drew back into a sneer. “Sorry doesn’t put the knives in the right place, now, does it? Or the glass bowls, which you put with the metal bowls after you washed them last week. Or the gas bill I left on the counter, and you threw out with the recycling on Sunday.”

  “I didn’t mean to.” I couldn’t seem to get anything right anymore. “I’ll put the knives in the block now if you’ll let me squeeze by you.”

  She glared harder and didn’t move. “No, I’m not going to let you fix it this time. I’m going to leave the knives right where they are. I want you to be reminded of how stupid you are every time you open the drawer.”

  I swallowed, fighting the lump in my throat. “I’m not stupid.”

  A laugh erupted from her, loud and high and completely lacking in mirth. “Oh, you’re not? Why, because you have a fancy master’s degree?” She stepped toward me, lacing her fingers through my hair – a gesture I used to love that held no comfort anymore. “I know better. You may have tricked your professors and your classmates, but I see the real you. The brainless sheep who can’t do anything but copy what smarter people do at school. Who can’t even follow simple directions when it comes to real life.”

  “I’m sorry about the knives.” My voice cracked. “I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

  Her eyes flashed. “Say you’re stupid.”

  “I don’t want to do that.” My voice was small now. I sounded like a child.

  “And I don’t want to hear it. Do you think I enjoy this?” She slammed her fist into the wall. “I just need to know you understand how dumb you really are.”

  My heart thudded. I didn’t want to know what she’d do if I didn’t say it. “I’m stupid,” I whispered.

  She grabbed my arm – hard. There would be bruise marks tomorrow. “Louder.”

  “Chantel,” I said desperately.

  She got in my face. “Say it again, louder.”

  A tear spilled from my eye, and then another. If I just did what she was telling me, she’d leave me alone. “I’m stupid.” Still soft, but louder than before.

  “Tell me how stupid you are,” she said, twisting my arm painfully. “How you tricked everybody and you don’t know anything.”

  “I’m really stupid.” I choked on my tears, my fingers tingling from lack of circulation. “I tricked everybody. My family, teachers, friends. I don’t know anything.”

  “Good girl.” She let me go, leaving my arm stinging. “Never forget how lucky you are that I put up with you. You think anyone else would ever treat you as well as I do, once they found out what you were like? You think anyone else would even want you?”

  I looked down at my arm – the flesh was already turning a mottled purple.

  I just looked. That was all.

  “You ungrateful bitch.” She shoved me, hard.

  My skull cracked against the wall, and pain lanced through my head. Wordless, I sank to the floor. With my last shred of energy, I covered my head.

  “You’re pathetic, Lora,” she said from above me. “I can’t even stand to look at you.”

  Tears dripped from my eyes. I’d stay in my pathetic huddle as long as it took for her to leave. I wouldn’t take the chance of her hurting me again.

  After a minute, the apartment door slammed.

  I picked myself up carefully, feeling at the back of my head. I didn’t think I had a concussion – despite the drops of blood still on the wall. I cleaned it up before I could stop myself. I should’ve left it for Chantel so she wouldn’t be able to deny what she’d done later, like she always did.

  Soft paw-steps entered the kitchen, and I looked into Virginia’s big green eyes. “Did you hear that, baby? I didn’t mean for you to hear our fight.” I hoped the kitten wasn’t traumatized.

  Scooping her up, I held her to my heart. “Chantel doesn’t mean it,” I told her. “She just gets upset, and she doesn’t have a healthy way to handle it.”

  The white fluff ball purred, apparently unbothered by what had gone on. Still, just holding her made me feel a bit better – especially when her rough little tongue came out and she licked my hand. I leaned against the counter, all the tension in my body dissipating. It felt so good to just hold Virginia and feel her simple, uncomplicated love.

  I used to feel like that when I held Chantel, but things between us hadn’t been simple or uncomplicated in a long time. These “episodes,” as I called them – because she never admitted they’d ever happened – had started about a year into our relationship. Not often, only four or five times over the past two years.

  We’d adopted Virginia a few weeks ago. Although we hadn’t put it into words, she was supposed to heal our broken relationship. And yet here we were again. The kitten clearly hadn’t solved anything. This episode had been the worst one yet.

  “Not that I blame you,” I told the kitten. I blamed Chantel… and of course, myself. If I hadn’t set her off, things would’ve been fine. I just never knew what was going to set her off.

  Setting Virginia down, I sighed. I knew I sounded like every other abuse victim ever. And that was what this was, if I had to put a name to it. Abuse.

  I’d been able to deny it before, since she’d only slapped or scratched me. But this? Shoving me into the wall? My head was still throbbing, and the marks on my arm might not go away for days. She was abusing me, both physically and emotionally.

  Virginia strutted around the table. She wasn’t usually allowed up there, and she had to sniff every new thing that she discovered. The place mats, the plates, the cutlery. Chantel had been about to cook dinner. If things hadn’t gone so wrong, we would’ve been eating by now.

  The kitten poked her head into a glass of water, and her little tongue worked frantically as she lapped it up.

  “See, this is why you’re not allowed on the table.” I picked her up and set her on the floor, my heart heavy. “I need to leave, Virginia. I can’t let this keep happening.”

  That seemed to catch her attention. She paused and looked up at me, and I could’ve sworn there was sympathy in her big, blank eyes.

  And then she sat and licked her paw.

  *

  I’d looked up this place’s address months ago. Committed it to heart, just in case I ever needed it. I’d been certain I wouldn’t… and yet here I was, at the door.

  I shuffled my bags around, getting them out of the way so I could push the door open. The reception room was large and airy, with light brown walls and a comfortable-looking couch. Although it was dark outside at the moment, the large windows held the promise of warm light.

  I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding. I’d be safe here.

  Moving inside, I set my things down in front of the reception desk. I reached for the bell, and hesitated. Did I really belong here? What if they told me what Chantel had done wasn’t bad enough? What if they didn’t think she could hurt me because she was a girl?

  Part of me was ready to turn around and leave right now. I could get back home – Chantel wouldn’t be back yet, and she’d
never know I’d left at all. I could still salvage our relationship. Could still keep going as if nothing had ever happened.

  I bit my lip, doing my best to steel myself. Something had happened. And there was nothing worth salvaging.

  All the good things about Chantel weren’t worth what she put me through. No one who loved me would do what she’d done to me.

  I knew that intellectually, but…

  I’m really stupid. I tricked everybody. I’m pathetic. I was lucky she even put up with me.

  No. Those were her words, not mine. I had to be stronger than this. I deserved better, dammit.

  I reached for the bell again. Hesitated again. Wetness dripped down my face, and I let out a sob.

  A flurry of activity came from the back. A woman rushed behind the desk, already apologizing. The decision had been made for me, and I felt equal parts sick and relieved.

  I was so lost in my conflicting emotions, it took me a moment to realize I knew that voice. When I looked at the woman, her face was one I knew well.

  She stared back at me, her mouth opening in an O of realization.

  “Lora,” she breathed.

  Two – Sydney

  I knew I was supposed to be behind the desk at all times. The bell was only really for emergencies. Many of the abuse victims who arrived at Open Heart Women’s Shelter were wary, like scared animals, and would run if they didn’t immediately see a welcoming face.

  I’d just snuck away to make a cup of tea. No one had come in for hours, which meant I’d been alone behind the desk with only a thick volume of feminist theory to keep me company. And as much as I enjoyed sinking my teeth into the dense literature, the journal had made me a little sleepy.

  Now I stared at our shelter’s newest arrival – a young woman who’d been one of my star students only a few months ago.

  “Dr. Burgin.” Lora’s eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere but at my face. “I-I didn’t know you worked here.”

  “I volunteer,” I said, as warmly as I could. “Not that it makes a difference.” For a moment, I wondered if she’d come to volunteer. That would make more sense – but no, the way she toyed with her sleeve was a dead giveaway. Who wore long sleeves in mid-July?

  “I’m here because…” She stopped and sniffled, her pretty face crumpling.

  “Say no more.” I pushed a clipboard across the desk. “Here’s an intake form. I’ll be right back.”

  I headed back to the volunteer room, where the kettle was still whistling. My hands shook as I poured the water.

  I’d been helping at the shelter for years – nothing should’ve surprised me at this point. Rationally, I knew that middle-class and educated women were just as likely to be abused as any others. Still, it was a shock to find one I knew personally coming to me for help.

  Especially Lora Dayton, my strong, capable student. She’d aced my graduate-level class. I’d even watched her defend her master’s thesis. I still referred to her brilliant dissertation about the gender pay gap with my undergrads.

  I’d even met her partner at a department party, and while I hadn’t had the chance to speak to her one-on-one, Chantel had seemed nice enough. Now that I looked back, wasn’t there something off about them, though? Hadn’t Lora seemed quieter when she was around?

  I carried my tea back to the desk, where Lora was still bent over, scribbling. “You can sit down if you’d like,” I said sympathetically. “The form is a bit long.”

  She nodded, again without looking at me, and went over to the couch. She hadn’t looked me in the eye since realizing who I was.

  My heart went out to her. She was clearly going through a lot, and then running into someone she knew here had to make things even harder. No student would’ve wanted their professor knowing the personal details of what went on in their lives.

  When she finished a few minutes later, I skimmed through her form. I let out a gasp when I saw the part about Chantel pushing her into the wall. “You need to go to the hospital.”

  “No!” she said, sounding almost desperate. “I know the signs, and I don’t have a concussion.”

  “The police, too. Lora…”

  “Please, no.” She met my eyes for a second, then lowered her gaze again. “I don’t want to do any of those things. Coming here was hard enough.”

  Reluctantly, I dropped the issue. If she was walking and talking normally, she’d be fine for a while longer. I’d keep observing her, and if I saw the slightest sign that anything was wrong, I’d insist that she get checked out. And as sad as it was, most of the women who came here were hesitant to involve the police.

  “Let’s get you settled in for now,” I said. “Dinner time is over, but there’ll still be some leftovers.”

  Her face flushed. “I don’t know if I need to stay here. I really just came for advice. I don’t want to take a bed or food away from people who really need it.”

  “You brought a lot of stuff for someone who just came for advice.” I eyed her bags.

  “I-I thought maybe I’d get a hotel.” She bit her lip. “I can’t really afford it, but I can put it on my card.”

  “Don’t be silly.” I grabbed a backpack. “The whole reason we’re here is to help people like you.”

  I headed for the back hallway. For a moment, I didn’t hear her move. Then her footsteps echoed behind me, even though she didn’t say a word.

  The shelter used to be a duplex, so we eased through the small opening connecting the two parts. The reception, kitchen, and counseling room were in the part we’d come from, and the other part was reserved for bedrooms.

  “You’re lucky,” I said as we reached room 8A. “We’re not too crowded at the moment, so you get the whole place to yourself.” I gestured at the empty bunk beds. “If we were busy, you could’ve been sharing with five other people.”

  She blinked rapidly. “I guess I never thought about having to share. You’re sure no one else will end up coming in this room tonight?”

  “Yeah, it’s really quiet. We have a whole other room that’s completely empty, so if anyone else comes, we’ll put them in there. But normally, most women call to let us know they’re coming, just to check if we have space available.”

  “Oh!” She covered her mouth. “I never thought about that, either. I should’ve called. I’m so sorry.”

  “Please stop apologizing.” I touched her arm, hoping to comfort her – then pulled back at her wince of fear. “It’s fine. You’re here, we have space, and everything is absolutely fine. You’re safe here.”

  Her eyes widened at me, and for the first time, I noticed how blue they were. “Thank you,” she said softly, and looked at the floor.

  My heart twisted. I was used to seeing women at their lowest, but this one was different. Maybe because I already knew her. Maybe just because she was her.

  She was so beautiful and so vulnerable. Knowing her girlfriend had yelled at her and hit her infuriated me. She was the kind of woman who deserved the world, and her girlfriend had torn her down to nothing.

  It wasn’t right. Internally, I vowed to rebuild the shattered shards of Lora’s self-esteem. At the very least, I’d do what I could.

  “Anyway, there are sheets and towels on each bunk,” I said, snapping back into professionalism. “All we ask is that you bring them down whenever you leave.”

  “Okay.” She sank onto the nearest bottom bunk, pushing back strands of her brown hair. “Thanks again, Dr. Burgin.”

  “Call me Sydney. Please.”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll let you settle in now,” I said. “Whenever you’re ready, you can come out front and get some dinner. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

  “It’s like you’re reading my mind.” She lay back on the bed. “I’m going to rest for a minute first. I’ll be out in a bit.”

  I moved toward the door. “If you need anything, just give me a ring. The phone on the dresser connects directly to the front desk.”

  “All right… Sydne
y.”

  She gave me a small smile, the first I’d seen from her tonight. Her smile was so beautiful… and so broken.

  After half a second, the smile was gone, and I backed out of the door.

  My heart ached for Lora, and I longed to make everything better. But what if there was nothing I could do?

  Three – Lora

  Once I was alone, I threw my arm over my face. Deep breaths, Lora. I still couldn’t quite cope with the fact that my former professor was the volunteer who’d welcomed me here. It wasn’t enough that Sydney was brilliant and accomplished in the field of women’s studies. She also had to be generous and warm-hearted, too?

  I’d already known she was a wonderful person. Every time we’d interacted, she’d been incredibly kind and supportive. I still remembered going to her for a deadline extension on a major paper. She’d asked me why I needed it, and I’d decided to be honest – that I was overwhelmed and didn’t know where to start.

  Rather than getting angry, or even irritated, she’d sat down with me and helped me work out a strong outline. Once I had that, I’d been so passionate about the material that I pulled a few all-nighters to finish the paper. I’d still handed it in late, and Sydney had docked points, but that was only fair.

  With a sigh, I sat up. I would’ve liked nothing better than to nap right now, but I had someone else to think about. I knelt on the floor beside my backpack. I’d left the zipper an inch open for air, and I’d tried to jostle the bag as little as possible.

  Still, I was met by a loud hiss and the unmistakeable smell of fecal matter when I opened it.

  “I’m so sorry, Virginia,” I said. “I didn’t want to do that to you. You’re free – at least for now.” I’d have to put her back in the backpack if anyone else came into this room. If other women slept here, she might have to stay in there all night.

  The kitten arched her back and bared her teeth at me. Her pupils were huge, filling her whole eyes, and when I reached out to comfort her, she shied away and scurried under a bed.