When lighting strikes

*Trigger warning: domestic violence*

Aya was a firm believer in Murphy’s law: anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. She was known among her friends as the ‘unlucky one.’ When she was only 12, Aya was struck by lighting, and that's when the series of unlucky events started. Her family had gone camping for the weekend, and got caught by a surprise thunderstorm in the middle of a hike. They had taken all the precautions, but somehow the little girl still managed to get struck. She couldn’t remember much about the accident other than a blinding white light coming toward her from the sky and the loudest boom she’d ever heard. After that, she had found herself on the wet mossy ground surrounded by her parents and her little sister, all in tears. 

Aya had suffered no permanent damage from the hit, but the fern-like scar that normally disappeared after some time had instead decided to take permanent residency on her tan skin. At the beach, everybody would ask her where she got that amazing body art that covered all of her left arm starting from the shoulder. Each time, Aya had fun making up different stories as to how she got it: once it was from a remote tribe in the Amazon forest, another time she said it was etched on her skin by a blind man she’d met on the Venice Beach boardwalk, and yet another time she said it was a simple birthmark. No matter the story, people always had curious reactions, and it was on of the best conversation starter she’d heard of. 

The number of unlucky events in her life were too many to count. At the age of 15, she had learned to avoid certain types of situations that seemed to put her at higher risks, such as long distance flights, public events, and nature walks. Because of this, she started feeling extremely alone, and she distanced herself from her friends. It was really difficult to have to reject all invitations for fear of something bad happening. And when she tried to talk about her lighting strike accident, people would treat her like a circus freak. That’s why she’d never tell the truth about her scar. She didn’t like the looks of disconcert she received.

When she got stuck somewhere between the 67th and 69th floor of the highest building of Los Angeles with her newly divorced husband, Aya wasn’t fazed nor surprised. After all, it was Murphy’s law in full action. 

“Damn! Why is this thing not moving!”

“James, calm down. It’ll work again soon and we can be on our way.” 

“It’s always your damned luck! I should have known better than to take an elevator with you. You know I’m claustrophobic, For Christ’s sake!” 

Aya took a deep breath and visualised her calm space, a little oasis she had once seen in a documentary that had given her the sense of being the most relaxing place on the planet. She could see the small pond reflecting the scorching midday sun in it, a patch of green grass growing around, and the incessant coming and going of desert dwellers of all sizes. If she focused hard enough, Aya could feel the scent of sand and heath in her nostrils as she breathed in deeply one last time. She relaxed her jaw, which was already tensing up in response to her ex husband’s anger, and unclenched her thighs. Having a panic attack at that moment would be less than desirable, so she had to use all the relaxation methods she had learned through the years to maintain a somewhat decent state of mind.

Despite her best attempt at keeping her eyes shut and her husband’s constant murmuring and whining out of her aura, she had to let go of the oasis and come back to reality for a second. 

The darkness left her speechless for a moment. Electricity must have gone out while she was in the zone, and the light that was able to filter through was barely enough to see. But within a couple of minutes, her eyes adjusted to the darkness, allowing her to make out the shape of her ex husband towering over her at 6’’4’.

“Now we’re royally screwed! And not in a good way!”

“Have you tried calling someone from the office?”, she offered.

“Despite what you might think, I am not an idiot! There’s no cell reception,” James spat out in one breath. 

“Well, then. Looks like we have some waiting to do.” With a fluid movement, she laid her back against the cold metal of the elevator wall and slid down until she was seated somewhat comfortably, feet to the ground, her crossed arms resting on her bony knees. 

Without a second thought, Aya pulled the collar of her purple blouse further up her neck in an attempt to cover the top of the lighting scar. This automatic gesture was her way of protecting herself from unwanted attention, and she did it when she wished to avoid any kind of talk and confrontation. Of course, avoiding a discussion with James now was virtually impossible, being that they were both stuck in that elevator, just minutes after signing their divorce papers. 

“It’ll be over soon,” Aya whispered to herself as she put her glistening forehead on her arms. 

“It’ll be over soon.”

She wanted to believe it, but with her luck they might be stuck in that elevator for the whole night. Most of the businesses in the building had already closed down for the day, and there were five more elevators, which meant that once the electricity would come back, they might not be the top priority for the firefighters. But then again, it should be over soon. 

The smell of the unwashed carpet that lined the elevator floor started to become nauseating, so Aya popped a piece of gum in her mouth in hopes of focusing her sense of smell and taste on something more pleasant. 

“I never should have agreed to come sign together. This was all a mistake.” 

Every word out of James’ mouth was like a bullet directed at Aya. She knew she probably was the cause of this unfortunate event, but there really wasn’t much she could do about it. The more time passed, the more James paced up and down the small enclosure like a caged bear. 

“James, I need you to calm down. You’re not helping yourself by pacing like this. Please come sit down.” 

“You ‘need me’ to calm down? Aya, I needed you to be my wife! I needed you to not leave me! How can you ask me to calm down?!”

Before Aya registered what was happening, James’ fist hit the mirror, shattering it into a million pieces. The woman was showered with small glass pieces, sharp and cold against her skin. Like little daggers, the bigger shards jabbed her the right side of her body on the arm, leg, and head. Red dots started appearing where she was cut and soon tiny little streams of blood formed in correspondence with the wounds. 

“James… Don’t! Please!” Her arms shielding the vulnerable spots, Aya was waiting for the first punch to be thrown her way. 

She closed her dark eyes awaiting impact, but the hit never came. 

“I told you, I changed.” 

He seemed to have calmed down now, as he had stopped pacing. His right fist was covered in blood and mirror shards, and he was picking them out of his knuckle one at a time, letting them fall on the dirty carpet. 

“I am not the same man I was a year ago.”

“You just destroyed this mirror and I am full of cuts! You are exactly the same!” 

Aya closed her eyes and squeezed her eyelids until they hurt. 

“Calm oasis, calm oasis,” she was saying to herself. She got a glance of it, but then everything turned dark. 

**************************

Aya remembered the exact moment she understood she needed to divorce the monster she had been calling ‘husband’ for the last ten years. It was a quiet spring afternoon, Aya had been doing some garden work in the front yard and her linen pants were covered in dirt and leaves. A straw hat protected her face from sunburn while also adding a touch of glamour to the outfit. She was kneeling by the rose bushes when he had arrived home. As soon as he walked up to her, the smell of alcohol saturated the air around them. It wasn’t even 4 PM, how could he have been drinking already?

As if he had heard his wife’s thought, he announced that he had stopped at the bar for a couple of beers with the guys because work was done early. What a lie! Aya knew damn well he had probably been drinking alone in his car in an empty parking lot somewhere in sketchy. If he had her luck, he would have been caught many times already, and maybe he would have been put into jail for disorderly conduct and drinking in public. But so far he had never been stopped or questioned by the police, so he could keep his little drunken act going. 

“I really wish you didn’t drink this much, honey.” 

“How dare you? How dare you tell me what to do?”

When James raised his voice, he always made sure nobody was around to hear it. He glanced around the calm street like a thief in a convenience store, and he marched to the entrance. 

“Come in. We need to talk! Now, Aya!” 

She knew that any kind of protest would only make things worse, so she got up, hid the pair of scissors in a nearby vase, and followed her husband inside the house. 

When the door closed behind her, James started yelling again. 

“You’re stupid if you think you can tell me what to do! I am a grown-ass man, I can decide what to drink and when to drink it! Understood?”

At first he would never dare to call her names. But as of lately, he had started to insult her. It ranged from very unimaginative words such as ‘stupid’ and ‘whore,’ to more complex and creative compositions. Aya used all of her energies to not focus on the other names he had called her, so she wouldn’t start crying. Tears were fighting to come out, but Aya was determined to not let them out. She swallowed hard, and lifted her gaze to look her husband in the eyes. 

“Stop calling me names. I have every right to tell you that I don’t like it when you’re drunk. We live together!”

She knew her words would mean trouble, but she couldn’t bear the situation anymore. None of it. For the first time in years, her mind was void of any confusion and fear. Her lungs expanded and she inhaled a breath of fresh air like it was the first time she could breathe since they got married. 

“I am leaving you, James. I want a divorce.” 

As soon as the utterance reached the ears of the drunk man, all hell broke loose. Within a second, James was punching her wherever he could hit, throwing in a slap in the face every so often. 

When he was done with her, Aya was curled up on the floor. Every single bone in her body felt like it was broken, and every inch of visible skin was red, soon to be turning blue. Her lower lip was dripping blood, and her left eye was shut. It hurt too much to keep it open. 

When the police arrived, Aya was passed out on the floor, while James was drinking a cold beer in the living room, as if nothing happened. One of the neighbours must have been walking their dog and heard the screams. Thankfully it didn’t take them long to call 911, but in that moment even calling before the beating took place would have bene too late. 

She woke up on the ambulance stretcher, surrounded by paramedics calling her name and medicating the bigger wounds. With the last of her energy, she whispered the woman tending to her eyebrow cut that she was going to divorce that man. She told her that he started beating her because she brought him bad luck, and used that as an excuse for all the years they had been married. 

The woman took Aya’s hand in hers and assured her that everything would be ok. 

Aya let out a sigh of relief and passed out again.

***********************************

Aya found herself in the same curled-up position, with her whole body shaking out of control. She tried to put as much space as allowed by the elevator between her and James, fully aware that if he wanted to, he could do anything to her. The first inkling of tears poked her eyes, and this time she let them stream down her face. Her only hope was that either the power would come back soon, or that someone would send help. As she felt her chest tighten and the walls around her closing in, Aya started screaming. 

“HEEELP! PLEASE, SOMEONE HEEEELP!”

The scream echoed in the metal elevator, giving the impression that at least ten other women were screaming in unison. James might have thought he was a changed man, but his actions proved he was still the same man she had known throughout their marriage. With a swift movement of his right hand he slapped Aya across the face, leaving her cheek burning.

“Shut up! SHUT UP, AYA! I swear, I’ll make you unrecognizable if you don’t shut your face!”

He raised his arm once more, threatening to hit her again. Aya shielded her face with her arms and pushed her back harder against the elevator wall, which reacted to her abrupt movement with a slight swing and thud. No matter how much she pushed, though, she couldn’t escape the box of horror she was in. All the memories of the beatings came back, invading her mind like a quick spreading cancer. The blood, the cuts, the pain. The lies she told everyone in order to protect his good name. Images of being kicked, shoved, punched until she could no longer breathe flashed in her brain. It all felt so vivid, as if she was watching a movie of that life she so desperately tried to forget. 

Then she felt it. Moments before the lights turned on, the elevator gave an almost imperceptible jolt and started moving again. James was caught off guard, and tottered in place. It was enough of a lead for Aya, who stood up with the speed of lighting and before she could realize what she was doing, she stabbed her ex husband with one of the mirror shards she was holding in her hand. James started chocking as blood spewed out of his neck, a river of dark red liquid staining his impeccable shirt and suit. He tried to take out the object that was slashing his veins, but Aya’s hand was unyielding. 

All those years of abuse, all those years of taking the pain without saying a word had given her enough adrenaline to keep pushing down. The light bling of the elevator informed her that they arrived at a floor and she jumped out, releasing James with a shove, which sent him across the elevator face first into the broken mirror. 

Two firemen and a couple of office workers were waiting at the floor, and were left speechless by the scene that developed in front of their incredulous eyes. 

“He… he attacked me. I had to defend myself,” said Aya, trying to catch her breath. 

“He’s my ex husband. This was the last time he beat me.” 

One of the firemen was already explaining the situation to a 911 operator, asking for an ambulance to be sent immediately. James was curled up on the floor, writhing in pain. He was going to make it. 

The second fireman accompanied Aya to a leather chair in the waiting room of a nearby dentist’s office, where he helped her clean up the cuts from the mirror shards. 

“What happened in that elevator, Ma’am?”

Aya didn’t know where to start. She couldn’t tell him about the incident without explaining the years and years of abuse she had endured. Her words were filled with hesitation at first, but once she opened up, she it was hard to stop. The fireman was a good listener, and he didn’t do or say anything that Aya could interpret as judgement or disbelief. 

When she was done telling her story, her chest felt lighter than it had in years. As she was looking for a Kleenex in her pocket, something fell out of it. They both reached to grab it, and in that moment Aya saw something she didn’t expect to ever see on anybody else: a lighting scar. The fireman’s neck became exposed as his arm reached for the chapstick that had fallen out of her pocket and there it was, that familiar fern-like light etching. 

Without saying anything, Aya moved the collar of her shirt to reveal her own. The light on the ceiling flickered, and the power went off again. Even in the dim light, she saw the fireman smile at her. They’d have a lot to talk about, but now wasn’t the moment.

Maybe she wouldn’t have to feel so alone anymore, after all.