Chapter 6 - THE FIRST NIGHT SHE LEFT
We didn’t go to my house.
Police helped Brooke contact a domestic violence advocate, and that woman helped find a temporary safe location Grant didn’t know.
For the first time in my life, I understood why people use phrases like undisclosed location.
Not because they’re dramatic.
Because sometimes survival depends on an address staying secret.
Brooke showered twice that night.
She said she felt Grant’s hands on her even though he wasn’t there.
I sat outside the bathroom door with Charlie at my feet.
At four in the morning she came out wearing borrowed sweatpants.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“For what?”
“All of this.”
I stared at her.
“You think you caused this?”
She shrugged.
It broke my heart.
“Brooke, listen to me. You are not responsible for the things he chose to do.”
She sat beside me.
“I knew he was getting worse.”
“Then why did you stay?”
The second I asked it, I regretted the wording.
Brooke didn’t get angry.
She looked tired.
“Because every time I thought about leaving, he showed me another reason I couldn’t.”
“What reasons?”
“The house is in both our names, but he controls the online account.”
“Okay.”
“He changed the passwords.”
“We can deal with that.”
“He has copies of my tax records.”
“We can deal with that too.”
“He told me he could get me fired.”
My stomach tightened.
“How?”
“He knows my boss.”
“Knowing your boss doesn’t mean he can get you fired.”
“He has emails.”
“What kind of emails?”
She looked down.
“He used my account.”
“To do what?”
“I don’t know.”
That scared me.
She continued.
“Sometimes he’d use my laptop. He knew all my passwords.”
“Brooke…”
“He said married people shouldn’t have secrets.”
“Except him.”
She gave me a sad smile.
“Except him.”
At sunrise, her friend Rachel arrived.
The second Brooke saw her, she broke down.
Rachel hugged her.
“I’ve been waiting for this call for two years.”
I looked at her.
“Two years?”
Rachel froze.
Brooke closed her eyes.
“Rachel knew some of it.”
“How much?”
“Not everything.”
Rachel spoke carefully.
“She called me once from a gas station. She was crying. Grant had smashed a kitchen chair and punched a hole in the wall.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
I felt anger rise again.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Brooke stood.
“Mom, stop.”
Her voice was sharper than I had heard in months.
I went silent.
She pointed at both of us.
“I know you love me. Both of you. But I cannot spend the next month explaining why I didn’t leave sooner.”
She was crying now.
“I was scared.”
Neither of us spoke.
“I was ashamed.”
Her voice broke.
“And every time I tried to imagine leaving, I imagined all of you looking at me exactly like this.”
That hit me harder than anything Grant had said.
I took her hand.
“You don’t owe me an explanation.”
She squeezed mine.
Then Rachel pulled out her phone.
“There’s something else.”
Brooke looked at her.
“What?”
“Grant called me last night.”
My daughter froze.
“What did he say?”
Rachel opened her voicemail.
“He left this.”
She pressed play.
Grant’s voice filled the room.
Calm.
Friendly.
Almost charming.
“Rachel, I know Brooke is upset. I’m worried about her. She’s having some kind of episode, and Linda is making it worse. If Brooke contacts you, please call me before you do anything.”
The recording ended.
Then Rachel looked at us.
“That wasn’t the only voicemail.”
She pressed the second one.
This time, Grant didn’t sound charming.
“If you help her hide from me, I’ll make sure you lose more than a friendship.”
Rachel stopped the recording.
Brooke whispered, “He’s going after everyone.”
Then her phone rang.
May you like
This time the number wasn’t unknown.
It was her boss.
