Almost Gone

*Trigger Warning: This story contains depictions of physical and emotional abuse, violence, and self harm.

Jaelle was leaving again.

The cracked leather upholstery rubbed against her bare thighs as she shifted her weight in the driver’s seat of Ray’s Trans Am. It dug into her tender flesh, jolting her with a sense of urgency that overshadowed her fear.

She knew she didn’t have long before Ray would snortle awake, roll over, and notice her missing. Then he would be so pissed, he’d probably sling back a few shots of Jim Beam and start prowling the usual haunts, searching for her. How far could she get in that time? With three-eighths of a tank of gas and ten bucks in her pocket, not far. Her face ached and she felt a bruise blooming as she gingerly patted her eye socket with the pad of her middle fingertip. She’d need foundation, coverup, an ice pack for the swelling, a fresh change of clothes, and a toothbrush. Whatever could keep her in the realm of the working, the living-with-your-head-down masses, no questions asked. Leslie would give her that look when she showed up at the diner with heavy makeup and slumped shoulders. That look said, girl do I even ask, do I even want to know? And it practically shouted, WHY do you keep going back? She wasn’t ready for that look, eyes flicking from the crown of her head to the tip of her toe and back again. Leslie was such a bitch sometimes, even if she was Jaelle’s best work friend. The looks she gave just oozed pity and superiority. How was she going to face her this umpteenth time?

As the panic of trying to plan normalcy rose, so did her speed. Her foot was heavy on the accelerator. It really did feel like the lead Daddy had always joked was in her driving leg. The tendons in her ankles and muscles in her calves were tight and knotty, mirroring the burden her heart felt every time she left Ray. Her hair whipped around, stinging her cheeks and neck, and the heat of the day permeated her lungs through the open windows. The faster she went, the more desperate she felt. She was running away- again- but where? She had nothing and no one to run to. She was exhausted from the running, yes, but more from the return, the inevitable return. 

Could she do it again? Why would she do it again? A long-suffering truth dawned on her, blinded her really. As long as she was here on this Earth, she would continue this way. As the tides washed toward shore and away again, she would return to Ray no matter how much pain he caused her. It was a law of nature and she’d never be able to avoid it.

Her hands gripped the wheel, molding it to her pain, and a sudden urge bubbled up from deep inside her. She tightened her shoulders, hunched them up to her ears, and shoved her body back from the steering wheel and her foot toward the floor. Now her back ached more than her face, as she felt the years of recapitulation of pain lodged there, twisting her over and making her small. She was done.

Ahead she saw the familiar bend in the road, the transition from dirt to pavement that marked the entrance to civilization, with the stately grandmother oak tree curving its branches reassuringly toward the sky, emphasizing the change in path. She jammed her foot all the way to the floor, adrenaline rushing through her veins. This was it, she could end this now. She could stop the pain. She would stop the pain. The great elder oak loomed near the bend, ready and waiting for her. Deep breath, exhale, eyes closed. She jerked the wheel to the right and loosened her grip. The impact jolted through her, tossing her ragdoll head forward then back hard against the headrest and then forward again against the steering wheel. Then nothingness.

It felt like nothing and everything all at once, like when Ray locked her out of the house last winter in her camisole and pajama shorts. She had stood shivering and sobbing, barefoot and knee-deep in dirty, gray days-old snow. 

He hadn’t just locked her out, he’d barred the door and told her he’d shoot her if she tried to get back in. She’d known he wasn’t bluffing, and he wasn’t high enough to miss her this time. In that moment, cold and alone, she’d felt the multitude of her sins stacking in her chest, suffocating her. The overwhelming despair of being stuck, of having no choice in what happened in her life, had percolated within her and threatened, finally, to destroy her. But then, in the midst of this surge of uncontrollable emotion, she’d felt the cold permeate her hot-pink polished toes. It had been so bleak and frigid, but it had felt almost like it was burning her and the feeling of it, or lack thereof, had crept up her calves, past her knees, and into her hips. She had crumpled to the snow, folded her legs underneath her and took slow ragged breaths, simply existing in that moment. It had been a nothingness that was so pure, better than any high she’d ever chased. That moment had been real, and she had felt herself slip between being and unbeing. It was the closest she had ever been to peace.

Now she wondered… was this the nothingness again? Had she returned, but this time for good? The thought filled her with that same sense of peace but then she noticed the warmth, then wetness, seeping from her temple down to her eye. She blinked slowly, just the right eye. Her left was swollen shut, puffy and radiating the heat of injury. That’s where the blood was pooling. Hazily, she lifted her head and looked up. Through shattered glass, she saw the welcoming branches of the sturdy oak.

Oh fuck, she thought, I did it. It didn’t work but I did it. What was this strange emotion she was feeling? Like pride laced with abject despair. Or horror tinged with a smug I-told-you-so. She was floating above these feelings, a voyeur and not a participant. She wanted to stay in the nothingness as long as she could.

A sharp shooting pain ran down her back through her left hip. She heard a terrible sound, a wounded animal or something being attacked. The screeching whine was unbearable. She didn’t realize it was hers until the hot heaving sobs wracked her body and chattered her teeth. Her breath came in little huffs, serrated and shallow. The panic rose in her chest with each small gasp, and her eyes darted around searching for an escape. Her animal heart betrayed the nothingness for self-preservation.

She fumbled with the seat belt, dragged herself to the side and pushed all her weight into the car door. She pulled hard on the handle and screamed as she shoved against the metal frame. She tumbled out onto the packed dirt beneath the giant oak. Dusty, broken, and alone, she lay there and wept.