I need to vomit. My mind is being pulled in a million different directions as I start to freak out. Half a pack of Valium sits in the medicine cupboard with my name on it and I itch to get my hands on it. But I do none of those things. I stay immobile, trying to calm myself down and focus on what’s required of me.
It would be so much easier to just run away and never look back. But I force myself to think what’s best for Ricky. I can’t forever be watching our backs. This needs to be done the right way and I have no idea how to do it. I have to make this call.
I take a deep breath and press in the numbers. I transfer to speaker phone, and then sit on my hands so that I’m not tempted to hang up.
“Family help hotline. My name is Kylie, how can I help?” My throat tightens and I’m struggling to breathe let alone getting the words out. I push my hands even further under my bottom so I’m not tempted to get my finger on the end button. The silence grows between us.
“It’s okay. Take your time, whenever you are ready. I’m not going anywhere I’m here to help. I won’t judge you, so please don’t be afraid.” When she doesn’t rush me to speak I relax. She seems to understand how difficult this is for me and that I’m trying to gather my courage before I speak up.
I close my eyes to make it easier. To make it seem less real. “I need to get my son and I away from my husband and I don’t know how.” The words sound as though they’re coming from somebody else. Like something this scandalous couldn’t possibly be a part of my life. Once they are out, I can’t seem to stop the torrent of shameful information from pouring out of my mouth.
All the gory details I was sure would horrify her, aren’t even judged. She only speaks to give me factual information that will help to get me out of my situation.
“I’m worried that since there’s no physical evidence of abuse on my son, that my husband will still be entitled to custody rights with him when I leave. I can’t prove anything when it comes to how my son’s treated. I’m scared of what’ll happen when I’m not there to protect him.” I’m careful to leave out all our names. At this stage I’m only gathering information and trying to process it. I don’t want to be forced into anything.
“Okay, you mentioned bruises on your neck and waist. I want you to take photos of them. Can you do that for me?” I still can’t believe I was able to relay that story. Telling it as though it were someone else made it easier, though. “It’s important to document as much information as possible.”
If Joseph found photos of the marks on my neck on my phone he would be immediately suspicious. “I don’t know if keeping things like that at the house is a very good idea.”
“Do you have a friend or someone you can trust who can hold onto them for you?” Rachel definitely would, but she’s going to flip when she realises just how much I’ve been hiding from her.
Kylie goes on to explain that I can file for a domestic violence protection order that’ll instantly take effect. It would prevent Joseph from hurting Ricky or me while the proper authorities investigate. This is why as much documentation as possible is crucial, to help support my case.
There are shelters we can stay at, where Kylie insists that Joseph won’t be able to find us. I’m sceptical though. I imagine a room full of rundown bunks and other strange women, and it breaks my heart that I’d have to take Ricky there, but I have no other option. I feel the slightest bit better when Kylie informs me they’re safe houses, clean and homely and nothing like I’ve seen in the movies.
By the time I hang up, I feel, for the first time ever, like none of this is my fault. No matter what I did to provoke him, nothing makes violence okay. He can’t justify his actions. There’s no excuse in the world for abuse.
So now I have a way out. Simple, clean cut, and easy - on paper that
It would be so much easier to just run away and never look back. But I force myself to think what’s best for Ricky. I can’t forever be watching our backs. This needs to be done the right way and I have no idea how to do it. I have to make this call.
I take a deep breath and press in the numbers. I transfer to speaker phone, and then sit on my hands so that I’m not tempted to hang up.
“Family help hotline. My name is Kylie, how can I help?” My throat tightens and I’m struggling to breathe let alone getting the words out. I push my hands even further under my bottom so I’m not tempted to get my finger on the end button. The silence grows between us.
“It’s okay. Take your time, whenever you are ready. I’m not going anywhere I’m here to help. I won’t judge you, so please don’t be afraid.” When she doesn’t rush me to speak I relax. She seems to understand how difficult this is for me and that I’m trying to gather my courage before I speak up.
I close my eyes to make it easier. To make it seem less real. “I need to get my son and I away from my husband and I don’t know how.” The words sound as though they’re coming from somebody else. Like something this scandalous couldn’t possibly be a part of my life. Once they are out, I can’t seem to stop the torrent of shameful information from pouring out of my mouth.
All the gory details I was sure would horrify her, aren’t even judged. She only speaks to give me factual information that will help to get me out of my situation.
“I’m worried that since there’s no physical evidence of abuse on my son, that my husband will still be entitled to custody rights with him when I leave. I can’t prove anything when it comes to how my son’s treated. I’m scared of what’ll happen when I’m not there to protect him.” I’m careful to leave out all our names. At this stage I’m only gathering information and trying to process it. I don’t want to be forced into anything.
“Okay, you mentioned bruises on your neck and waist. I want you to take photos of them. Can you do that for me?” I still can’t believe I was able to relay that story. Telling it as though it were someone else made it easier, though. “It’s important to document as much information as possible.”
If Joseph found photos of the marks on my neck on my phone he would be immediately suspicious. “I don’t know if keeping things like that at the house is a very good idea.”
“Do you have a friend or someone you can trust who can hold onto them for you?” Rachel definitely would, but she’s going to flip when she realises just how much I’ve been hiding from her.
Kylie goes on to explain that I can file for a domestic violence protection order that’ll instantly take effect. It would prevent Joseph from hurting Ricky or me while the proper authorities investigate. This is why as much documentation as possible is crucial, to help support my case.
There are shelters we can stay at, where Kylie insists that Joseph won’t be able to find us. I’m sceptical though. I imagine a room full of rundown bunks and other strange women, and it breaks my heart that I’d have to take Ricky there, but I have no other option. I feel the slightest bit better when Kylie informs me they’re safe houses, clean and homely and nothing like I’ve seen in the movies.
By the time I hang up, I feel, for the first time ever, like none of this is my fault. No matter what I did to provoke him, nothing makes violence okay. He can’t justify his actions. There’s no excuse in the world for abuse.
So now I have a way out. Simple, clean cut, and easy - on paper that
Similar Books
