Damaged (5 page)

Chapter Eight

“Mrs.Wright did you know that your husband was taking deals from the mob?”

“Mrs. Wright were you involved in illegal activities?”

“Mrs. Wright did you know that he was having an affair?”

I walked to the waiting car, ignoring the voices yelling at me and the flashes from the camera’s being shoved in my face. I pulled my skirt around my legs and got into the back seat of the car.

“Are you ready to do this?” My lawyer asked me for what seemed like the millionth time. Everyone seemed to be under the impression that I was the devastated wife. They thought I was shocked and heartbroken over the allegations, but that was because they didn’t know that I was the one that turned him in and it was going to stay that way.

“Yes. I am ready to get the bastard put in jail and never see him or talk about him ever again.” I said, removing my sunglasses and turning to face the other man in the car.

Jackson pulled me to sit beside him. He held my hand and pressed kisses to my knuckles.

“Did you have to show up in a limo, Jack?” I asked him, rolling my eyes.

“This feels like a celebration to me, and celebrations call for limos. I like spoiling you, and I knew that it would make you smile and I needed to see one of your smiles. It’s been way too long since we had anything to smile about.” Jackson frowned.

He’d been so supportive throughout this whole thing, and he was very patient when I told him that I was going to take care of this on my own. He knew that I needed this closure. Unfortunately it wasn’t as cut and dried as I thought it would be. There were days when I doubted I’d survive this battle, but somehow here we were on the other side.

I leaned into Jack and thought back to six months ago, when I was just beginning the fight to get Brett’s comeuppance. I’d given a lot of thought to how I wanted to take him down, but once he hit me and left physical evidence of his depravity, I knew exactly how to get the ball rolling and get him behind bars. If only he’d stayed there.

3 Months Ago

I sometimes found it hard to believe it had been three months since that night when Brett finally lost his shit. It was painful and I wasn’t just referring to the physical wounds. It was emotionally hard. I’d had a short window of time to finally come to the realization that Brett wasn’t the same person he was when we first started dating. He’d been romantic and doting. He bought me flowers and brought me soup when I was sick. I suppose all of his energy was spent wooing me and when that was accomplished he spent his time doing other things, illegal things, immoral things. I’m sure I was to blame for some of the things he’d done. Maybe I wasn’t involved but I was an enabler. I wanted so badly for things to go back to being the way they were that I turned a blind eye. I turned my back on him and became silent, choosing to not say anything and avoid rocking the boat.

I hadn’t gotten this far easily. It was hard to come to all of these realizations. It was hard to admit my own wrong doing. I’d become a stronger person because of this betrayal. I’d gone back to speaking up when something was wrong. I started expressing myself and my opinions. I had lots of opinions stored up from my years of silence and I’d probably not be exaggerating if I said that people are tired of listening to me at this point. I’ve spent the past few months in self discovery. I’d discovered a lot about myself. I couldn’t not learn about myself. I was the only person around for a while. Jackson tried to get me to let him help but I’d been relying on a man for far too long and I needed to know that I could be self sufficient. I needed to know that I could kick ass and take names. There were times that I wanted to give in and let him help me and strengthen me, but before I gave myself to him again, I needed to be my own adult for a while. I went from living with my mom, to living with a roommate in college and then I married Brett. I never got the chance to learn about myself and it was passed time I did something just for me. I deserved the chance to be selfish and it was fun.

Don’t mistake me, I didn’t spend all my time working furiously. I’d spent quite a bit of time exploring the night life I’d missed out on. I even went to a sex club. It was naughty and sensual and I loved every minute of it. If I hadn’t already become attached to Jackson I might have spent a little more time with a certain owner of the club, but even a sexy dominant couldn’t keep my thoughts from turning to Jack and the nights we’d spent exploring each other. All the whips, butt plugs and nipple clamps couldn’t make me forget what it felt like to be in his arms, at his mercy. I’d learned to tell the difference between sexual chemistry and relationship potential. The club owner and I had chemistry but we weren’t compatible outside the bedroom and we both knew it. He was looking for someone soft and malleable and I wasn’t ever going to be under someone else’s control again.

During my exploration Jack kept tabs on me. He’d send me gifts and texts letting me know that he was waiting on me. He’d been pissed the first time I’d gone to the sex club. He showed up at my house, pulled me into his car, and demanded to know why I was looking for another man when I knew that no one would ever be able to measure up. I laughed at him and told him that jealousy was a waste of his time. He’d taken me there, in the back of his limo. The sex was a punishment, meant to show me exactly what I’d been missing. He warned me that he’d only spend so much time waiting on me to come to my senses before he came and took what he wanted. I was left panting and disheveled back at my house. I’d smiled as I walked inside, excited that at the end of this journey I’d have some new tricks up my sleeve I could use to blow his fucking mind.

Chapter Nine

6 Months Ago

I ended the call with Jack and gave myself a moment to gather my thoughts and plan. I’d realized while I was talking to Jack on the phone, that I needed to go to the police now, while the wounds are still fresh. I was eerily calm considering what happened to me earlier. Maybe I was in shock but the only thing I could think of was getting my revenge and getting away from Brett. I knew that in order to use this to my advantage I had to play it up. I was going to be the most pathetic damsel in distress the media had ever seen. I got up from my bed and went into the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror grimacing at the bruises and blood on my face. I needed more though. I looked like I’d been hurt, but I needed to look beaten, defeated.

I ran my hands through my hair, fluffing and making it stand up. The whole time I got ready, I thought about Brett and everything he’d ever done to me. I thought of all the things I’d buried deep in my subconscious and never thought of. I channeled the pain of losing my surrogate mother. I tore my clothes and removed one of my shoes. When I was ready I sent an anonymous text to a gossip columnist. I needed all the attention on me. I was about to make my big debut and it needed to be fucking perfect. I knew that Brett was unconscious by now, he’d drank himself into oblivion. I needed him to stay that way at least long enough for me to leave the house. I hoped he was drunk enough to stay asleep once the press caught sight of me and began yelling questions.

I looked out my window as news crews showed up on my street by the dozens. I spotted reporters from every major news outlet in the area. I closed my eyes and worked myself up until I was sobbing. He did this to me. He hurt me and berated me for years and now I was going to get him put away for life. Step one was getting him behind bars. Step two was giving the police every piece of dirt on every dirty deal he’d ever done.

I walked quietly down the stairs, checking the mirror to make sure my mascara was smeared and my lip was still oozing blood. I took a deep breath and opened the door. Showtime.

By the time I made it to the nearest police station I’d gathered a large following. I assume someone had called ahead once they figured out where I was going, because when I pulled up in front of the station an officer came around and opened the door and helped me walk inside. At some point between opening the door and going outside I’d affected a limp. I let snot and tears flow unabashedly down my cheeks and didn’t even bother trying to hide myself from the prying eyes.

I was led into a room and handed a cup of coffee. A female officer wrapped a blanket around me and closed the door. I could see everyone in the bullpen scrambling and huddling in groups trying to figure out what to do. The idea that the newly elected DA did this was probably a hard pill to swallow. When the police chief, an older man with gray hair and a grave face, came into the room and closed the door I had to fight a smile. Perfect. Just the man I knew I needed to see. I’d done my research before coming here. The police chiefs daughter was beaten by her husband and nearly died. I knew he’d be a sympathetic ear.

“Who did this to you, Mrs. Wright?” He asked his voice hard. I knew he’d be angry for me. It’s what made him the best target.

“My husband.” I whispered, cringing and curling into myself. I knew that it would be a hard thing for them to hear. I was putting them in a precarious situation and I needed to get everyone on my side. I looked the part, but I needed to act the part.

I gripped the blanket in my fists and sobbed. Snot and tears poured down my face. Under my lashes I could see the chief of police trying to figure out what to do. I saw the panic in his eyes when I told him the new DA was my abuser. I would have laughed if I hadn’t been trying so hard to play the convincing victim. Men didn’t know what to do when brought face to face with tears. Right now the chief was being reminded about the role he played in his daughter’s abuse. He introduced them, he felt responsible. Then, I appeared, a chance to do something to erase some of his own guilt. I was putting a spotlight on his experience and I was counting on him not being able to resist the chance to see a man taken down for hurting a woman who couldn’t do anything to stop him.

It didn’t take long for him to decide. I was counting on it.

“I will make sure your husband never hurts you again, I promise, but in order to see justice served I need to know everything that happened. He is going to lawyer up fast, and we need to know everything to make sure that the judge rules that he is a danger to you so that he stays in a cell until his court date.” He stood up and walked around to me, squatting so that our eyes were level.

“He’s done so many bad things.” I said, making sure to appear reluctant. “He would kill me if he knew that I know about the things he’s done. I don’t want to die. Please don’t let him hurt me again.”

“You need to tell me everything you know. I’m going to get a piece of paper and you need to write things down for me. I need to know everything that you know.”

So I did, I wrote down everything I knew that he’d done, every dirty back door deal I remembered. I’d tell them soon that I had evidence. I needed the case to be solid. If there was any doubt of his guilt they’d let him post bail, and I couldn’t risk him coming after me.

I realized as I was talking and falling apart in front of a stranger that I’d been denying that I actually felt these things. I convinced myself that I was detached and acting out a part. I tried to separate myself from what was happening to me. At some point the tears became real. The devastation was real. This was the beginning of the end of my relationship. I had to admit that it was over and that there was no going back to the way things were.

My second mother, Tory Wright was dying and this would devastate her. I’d kept so much of it hidden and I regretted it now. This would literally kill her. It was heartbreaking that this was going to be the last thing she knew of her son. I hated him for what he was forcing me to do. I hated him for turning into this monster that beat and threatened. I’d never thought myself capable of hate but I suppose that anyone is capable of anything when pushed into a corner. I was going to fight like hell to get out of this mess I’d found myself in.

I’d become someone that I didn’t recognize during my marriage with Brett. I used to be a strong person. I was stubborn and willful. I never did anything I didn’t want, but Brett had mind fucked me big time. He’d convinced me slowly and methodically that I was imperfect. He made me believe that I needed more make up and nicer clothes. I needed the personal trainer even though I was too thin. I needed the overly expensive hair dresser. Somewhere along the way he’d erased everything that made me, myself. I didn’t see myself in the mirror, I saw a stranger.

I couldn’t let him win. I couldn’t let him make me into stepford Barbie. I wasn’t flawless. I didn’t wake up like this. I was sending a message to the people around me that I was plastic and that I cared more for appearances than people. I used to do charity work instead of following Brett around like a puppet. I used to want a career and a different type of life. When did I stop wanting things for myself? When did I give up?

The whole purpose of going public and going to the police was to get out from under Brett’s thumb. I needed to know that I was happy with myself and what I had. I needed to stand up for myself. I needed a reminder of what I stood for and what I believed in.              

Sobbing in front of this man and not caring what he thought of me, I was the closest to myself I’d been in years. I was being more honest than I’d been in years. I was done pretending this wasn’t me or my feelings. I was done faking it. I wouldn’t be sorry for being a human being with feelings. I wasn’t sorry for being flawed. It would be hard to find myself again, but this wasn’t the end for me, it was the beginning.