When it's Over

Part 3

Wes

I set my phone on the nightstand and slip off my jeans. I wonder if Heartbroken will take anything I said seriously or if she will just tuck it away along with her other secrets. I try to close my eyes and get some rest, but I can't get her out of my head. I don't know anything about her at all, but I know guys like her boyfriend. When I first joined moved in on base, a Sergeant was being busted down for the violence he displayed at home. He had three kids. I can remember them staring out their window as someone escorted him out of his house at his wife's request. It made me sick.

I roll over on my side and try tucking my hand under my head. Maybe if the spinning stops I'll be able to fall asleep. My phone buzzes and flashes just as I began to shut my eyes again. A heavy sigh falls from my lips when I acknowledge that it's probably another misguided email. Still, I have nothing better to do. I reach for it and slide my finger across the screen. Sure enough, my email displays one new message.

The subject line is different, but the sender is the same. It's my Heartbroken girl and I sit up quickly with a rapidly beating heart.

From: Secret >

To: WesLee>

__________________________________________

Step One

July 24, 2015 at 12:02 AM

_________________________________________

Dear MWTYBNTSMFUC,

Can I assume your name is Wes or should I stick with your ridiculously long sign off? Thank you for responding to my email so quickly. I took your words to heart, but there are a few things you don't understand. Trust me, if step one of your exit plan was as easy as it sounds, I'd already be gone. It's not.

My boyfriend and I have been together for two years. Maybe that isn't a long time to you, but in this town that's a forever. When I graduate I want to leave here and go to a big city where I can meet new people everyday and maybe even go an entire day without ever seeing anyone I know. Right now, that is a dream I dream while living in this nightmare.

I promise you I'm not that girl. I'm not the girl that thinks he won't do it again. I know he will. I guess that's my biggest fear. Now that he's showed me how easy it is, I'll always be waiting for it. I'll think my actions through a million times and flinch every time he makes a sudden move. I know the smart thing to do is to leave, but I truly have nowhere else to go. It might be different if I could blend in to a crowd or ignore his calls and not worry he's going to show up at my door. The reality is I can't sneeze in this town without someone saying "Bless you," and a neighbor showing up ten minutes later with tissue because she'd heard through the town's gossip mill I might have a terrible cold. What that means is I could never get far enough away from him here to truly be safe.

It wasn't always like this. He adored me from day one and gave me things I would have never ben able to get for myself. His dad pays for my tutor, and his mother gives me her hand-me-downs so I'll have clothing for school. I'd give all that up if it meant we could go back to before he hit me, but this is real life and my options are limited until I'm old enough to get out of this town on my own.

While you have that dictionary out, look up mediocre. It might explain why the cards are dealt for me the way they are. Then look up grateful, because that's how I feel about your concern and how you should feel about living a life where the answer to domestic violence is black and white.

Thank you,

Heartbroken

I read the email at least three times, scrolling back through the thread to make sure I haven't missed a clue about who she is and how I might be able to get into contact with her. Emails seem so formal; I'd rather pick up the phone and talk this out. She thinks I don't know what it's like, but I do. It took my sister five years, three broken arms, I broken jaw, two broken orbital bones, a broken wrist and forty-three stitches to get out away from my her husband. Sure, we thought maybe something was wrong. She seemed to be the most accident-prone individual in our family. We let her explain away the injuries because it was easier than facing the truth. When he beat her so badly she had to stay in the hospital for three days with a collapsed lung, we finally opened our eyes and insisted she leave.

I open a new email and type out the last known address I have for my sister. It's been two years since any of us have seen her. The only comfort I have is knowing no one has seen her husband either. If he finally killed her, I imagine he'd come back to town where he could continue to live off his parents.

From: WesLee >

To: Samantha>

_________________________________

Thought of you today

July 24, 2015 at 12:15 AM

_________________________________

Dear Sam,

I thought of you today. Mom misses you like crazy. She planted tulips because she swears you'll be home by the end of summer to see them. I put more money in your box at the bank. It made my stomach sick to see the bills from before my deployment folded up inside. I guess there is a big part of me that wanted to see them gone even if that meant you'd run and I'd never see you again. Please call.

Love,

Wes

The screen of my phone goes dark after I sit staring at it for a while. I find a little hope in the fact that the email doesn't get kicked back to me immediately. I lie back down and set the phone on the nightstand again, telling myself to let it be with Heartbroken. I can't save my sister, so what makes me think I can save her? But as the minutes tick away and the first hour passes, I realize that I'm not going to be able to push her out of my head. If my sister had reached out to someone and got some help, maybe things would be different today.