Break, page 14
Chapter 18
This Shit is Bananas
Vincent
“There are medical reports in here as well. They pulled her entire health record from when she turned eighteen,” I say distractedly, setting aside her witness statement.
I’m currently forcing myself to look at all the information like I don’t know who it’s about. Like I don’t know who’s fucking hands did every inch of damage or typed every single one of those words to her. I have to, otherwise I’ll lose my goddamn mind.
Ethan is currently reading the pages and pages of text messages that were printed between Danny and Mina, and Max is staring at the photos.
Hundreds of photos.
He hasn’t said a word since he started looking at them. I’m also positive that all he’s doing is flicking through each one and looking at them over and over again, in an endless loop.
“Max,” I say softly, knowing that this is probably triggering him.
His eyes meet mine for a split second, and I’m taken aback by the power of his emotions emanating from them. He’s. Fucking. Devastated.
Ethan hasn’t said a word since we started pouring through the documents. He’s stoic, with no comments to add to the ‘he’s going to fucking die’ rhetoric Max and I have both been contributing to.
Flipping through a few pages, I notice some questionable injuries that she was treated for, then grab her journal. I scan through the dates to see if any of them match up, and they do. There’s a hairline fracture two years ago in her forearm, which she describes how Danny was pissed when she had fallen asleep and missed making dinner. She woke up to him grabbing her arm and pulling her through the house to the kitchen, screaming at her. Asking how he was expected to both work and feed them when she was just sitting at home doing nothing.
There are also a few remarks noted by her provider that expressed concern about her weight loss. That she was bordering on an unhealthy body mass index.
A visit where she sought birth control that didn’t require a daily pill. Another where she requested to be removed from it, less than a year later. Looking at the date, I see those two were within the first year of their marriage.
Setting the medical file to the side, a sigh escapes me. “This shit is bananas,” I mutter under my breath.
“Aside from what I’m looking at, what in particular makes you say that?” Max’s gruff voice asks me.
Lying back in my seat, I spin my thumbs around each other as I stare at the ceiling. “He got mad at literally everything. One event says that she talked too much, the next she didn’t say enough. One complained of something she made him for dinner, the next was that it was a meal she should have known he hated. She didn’t go grocery shopping early enough, then she spent too much of his ‘hard earned money’. The house isn’t clean, but she spends too much time cleaning when she should be focused on him. It’s fucking endless. Damned if she did and damned if she didn’t. How does someone survive like that?”
“He tracked her,” Ethan adds, speaking up for the first time.
Nodding, I don’t hold back my shiver of disgust. It was obvious after reading the texts that he would monitor her location on her cell. Constantly question why she was in one place for what he deemed was too long of a time. If he didn’t like her answer, he would accuse her of flirting or cheating with someone.
I’ll admit that I don’t know Mina well, but a certified flirt is not how I would ever have labeled her.
Leaning back further, I thread my fingers behind my head. I run over all the details laid out on the coffee table in front of us, and our last interaction with the stunningly beautiful and broken woman upstairs.
She’s not what I expected when I showed up today. Well, being stand-offish and uneasy around us was expected, especially shortly after the trauma she endured. But that bit of fire we saw before she went to her room was a surprise. It also gave me a sense of relief that Danny hadn’t completely taken everything away from her. Also, hope. Hope that we’ll get to see her come out of her shell and learn who she really is.
“What do you think she meant when she said she didn’t have a choice? Marrying Danny, I mean?” I question them. Lowering my eyes, I see Ethan is no longer paging through the papers, but Max is still staring at those damn photos. “Put the fucking photos down now, Max.”
He scowls as he tosses them down. The photos spreading out in a line, resembling a deck of cards spread out across a dealer’s table. Scrubbing his face with his hands, he mimics my pose as he thinks. “I don’t know. How does an adult woman not have a choice to sign her name to a marriage certificate?”
“Do you think he had something on her? Like blackmail?” The moment I ask, I know it’s an idiotic suggestion, and Max’s snort is enough to know he agrees.
“Doubtful. Maybe she felt like she couldn’t tell him no, like a sense of responsibility?” I turn Max’s idea over in my head and dismiss it.
“Responsibility for what, though? They were just neighbors. I could see her feeling like she couldn’t tell him no, though. But why couldn’t she say no? You think there was something going on between them before he told us they were together?”
Shrugging, he’s just as clueless as I am. “Maybe. At this point, I wouldn’t put it past him.” Max sits up and puts his elbows on his knees, hands hanging loosely between them. “Actually, if you think about it, he was always hyper-focused on her. It’s like he always said things to encourage us to not interact with her. You guys remember my ex, Raquel?”
When we indicated we do, he continues. “After she showed up for prom, she told me later that night that Danny was blowing her phone up for days before she finally responded to him. He was desperate for her to show up as my date, told her how depressed I was without her. He even offered to buy her dress and give her gas money to come. Maybe all of that stemmed from jealousy that Mina agreed to go with me?”
Scoffing at that, I shake my head. “What a fucking psycho. So, let’s assume he had a thing for her back then; how does that escalate to her not having a choice?”
“It was my father.”
Whipping my head to the doorway, I find her standing at the bottom of the stairs, fidgeting with the straps of her sling nervously. She’s not wearing it, and her hair is wet like she just showered. Standing up, I walk toward her slowly. “Why aren’t you wearing it? Should you be walking around without it on?”
Her face turns red before she looks down. “I can’t get it back on.”
Well, this I can certainly help her with. “Would you like me to help you?” Looking at the wad of cloth she’s holding, I study it. “Can’t be too complicated.”
Nodding in thanks, she hands me the sling. She turns sideways, bringing her line of vision in contact with Max and Ethan, who are still sitting around the mound of documents. It’s obvious that we’ve been studying them. Clearing her throat, she looks at Max. “I’m sorry for my outburst earlier. It was rude and I shouldn’t have lashed out like that, especially when you’ve opened your home to me. It won’t happen again.”
“Mina, you don’t have to apologize for calling me out when I’m wrong. I’m sorry that you ever felt like I was the enemy in your story.”
I pause my movements when Max apologizes, surprised that he was gentle with her. He’s a nice guy, it’s just that not many people get to experience it because he has a hard outer shell. Often times he comes across as an asshole.
Mina shifts to look up at me and I’m stuck when her eyes meet mine. I knew they were brown, but up close like this, they’re more like an earthy, rich color with strands of amber highlights. From a distance, it’s easy to write her off as average looking, brown hair, brown eyes, but she really is lovely.
Swallowing, I resume securing her arm, apologizing softly when I shift her into an uncomfortable angle. “Sorry, I’m almost done.” To distract her from what I’m doing, I ask, “What did you mean it was your father?”
She chooses not to answer me. Instead, she points to the documents that are spread out. “Is that about me?”
Ethan, who has only been an observer since she entered the room, tells her, “It is.”
Embarrassment wafts from her when she takes a step back toward the stairs, like she wants to escape our judgement. Reaching my hand out, I touch her lower back to stop her. “Would you explain it to us? We’re trying to get the full picture, and we don’t understand what you mean your father made you.”
She doesn’t move away from me but makes no attempt to step further into the room. “It’s going to sound ridiculous.”
“We won’t judge you, sweetheart. Help us understand,” I encourage her, dropping my hand and stepping away to give her space.
Fiddling with the ends of her hair, she considers how she’ll explain it. Her hair is only half brushed and hanging loose around her shoulders. Knowing she’s always worn it braided, I assume she wasn’t able to do it with her injured shoulder. So, I offer, “Would you like me to help you with your hair? I can do a regular braid to help get it out of your face.”
Giving her an easy smile, I’m happy to see that this time, it’s returned with a slight quirk of her lips. “If you don’t mind. I don’t want to be a burden.”
Using this as an excuse to get her to sit down, I assure her, “Not at all. Come sit and I’ll fix it all up while you talk.”
Once she settled where I had been before she came into the room, I smirk at Max’s glower, apparently irritated at my machinations. He’s probably just jealous I get to play with her pretty hair, as he should be.
I smirk when Walter plants his ass on the ground next to her, and lays his head in her lap. He’s apparently infatuated with her, and I don’t blame him when she starts to stroke her finger between his eyes.
Running my fingers gently through the tangles to break them apart, I tap her uninjured shoulder. “Fill us in, doll.”
“Umm… so, well, you know that we were neighbors and our families always insisted on regular meals together. My parents were very good friends with his, and mine were also extremely traditional. After my mom passed away, my father started dating a new woman who wasn’t happy that I was still living at home, which wasn’t by choice. My father demanded I stay to take over my mother’s duties in the home. The topic of me leaving came up at one of the family dinners with the Reeds and they all came up with the brilliant idea that Danny and I should marry. This would get me out of the house. My father would provide Danny with financial assistance for taking on the burden of supporting me, and Danny agreed.”
She pauses, fighting through something. Then says, “It wasn’t what I wanted. When I tried to say no, I was told none too gently that it was my duty to obey the head of the house. He would be good for me. I don’t know. I was railroaded into it and probably should have fought harder, but I wasn’t sure what to do or what my options were. Everyone was pushing for it to happen and they countered every argument I made with a reasonable answer. I tried to say no many times, but the last time I argued with my father… Well, it didn’t go well.”
I finished the braid long before she was done speaking but find I can’t let go of the strands at the end. I wrap them around my finger as I listen to her story. At the mention of her argument not going well with her father, my hand jolts and I accidentally tug her hair. She looks up at me in question, so I drop her hair and move around the couch to sit next to her.
I expect Walter to move, but he just eyes me like I’m intruding in his space, so I move to the other side of her.
“Well…” I contemplate how to respond to the bomb that everyone in her life manipulated her into a marriage of convenience, and I use the term convenient loosely. I finally settle on, “All of that is a thousand ways fucked up. Jesus, Mina.”
She leans forward and picks up one of the photos and studies it. It’s one which highlights a curved shoe-print shaped bruise on what looks like her thigh. “So, you’ve seen all of this. What now?”
Reaching forward, I pull the photo from her hand and set it upside down on the table. Waiting for her to look at me, I smile when she seems somewhat more relaxed. “Now, we wait.”
“Wait? For what? I feel like I should be doing something.”
As Max starts to gather all the documents together to put away, he says, “There’s not a lot that we can do right now until Danny makes a move. We’ll keep you here while you consult with a lawyer, which I can help you set up, and let the investigators put together their case against him. It’ll be a waiting game. As long as he sticks to the restraining order, he’ll be out until this eventually goes to court. I’m hoping you’ll use this time to heal and relax until then.”
“But what about a job, or a car? I’ll eventually have to find someplace to live and replace everything I owned,” she argues. I have sympathy for her since this has got to be incredibly frustrating. He still has so much control over what she can and cannot do with her life.
“For right now, you don’t need to worry about those things. We’ll sort that out when we get to that point, and we’ll also figure out a way to get your things from the house in hopes of minimizing what you’ll have to replace.”
Max looks at me, so I help out how I can. “Normally, we’ll arrange a time for you to be escorted there to gather your items. It would be a police escort and we can do our best to ensure he won’t be there.”
“Can we do that sooner rather than later? I don’t have much there, but I do have a few things I’d like to keep. Along with some clothes and hygiene stuff.”
Walter huffs out a sleepy groan as he gets up from where he was laying on Mina and goes over to Max to place his head in his lap. The moment Max starts to pet him, he huffs like he’s not doing it right, then slides back into his place at her feet. “Damn dog really loves you, doesn’t he?” I snicker, petting his head, my fingers grazing hers as she does the same. “But yeah, I’ll talk to my boss and see if we can do that in the next week for you.”
Yawning, she nods. “I think I’m going to go back upstairs. There should be enough left from lunch for you all to have for dinner tonight.”
“Let me know if you need anything, and thank you for cooking today. It was appreciated,” Max says, watching his dog follow her to the stairs.
“You’re welcome. Goodnight.”
“Night,” Ethan says. Max and I say it as well and watch quietly as she walks up the stairs, disappearing back into her room.
“I’m going to call Coop and set up a time to get her shit,” I inform them as I pull out my phone.
“Tell him I’m coming with you.” I’m not surprised that Ethan will want to be there to make sure that piece of shit is nowhere near her. I suspect Danny won’t like how it turns out for him if he is.
Chapter 19
Tattoos
Ethan
It’s been three days of awkward co-habitation.
None of us has been able to stop her from working around the house. It’s been impossible to convince Mina she doesn’t need to earn her keep, but she still insists on making three meals a day. Last night I found her on stomach with a hand vacuum cleaning up under the couches in the living room.
Anytime one of us enters a room where she’s working, she quickly finishes up whatever task she’s assigned herself and then slips away back up to her room. It’s exhausting just watching her. Begging her to rest and reminding her these aren’t her jobs, only have her deflating as if she’s doing something wrong.
I decided to push back my morning workout today to get ahead of her and prepare something for breakfast to give her a break. As I walk into the kitchen at six in the morning, there she is. The lights are off except for the light over the stove where she’s browning what smells like sausage.
So not to startle her, I clear my throat and bite back a smile when she still jolts at the noise.
“Oh, umm… good morning, Ethan.” Her voice is raspy this morning, having just woken up and not speaking to anyone yet. It’s still soft, but filled with her never-ending politeness.
“Mornin’.” My voice cracks, and I clear it awkwardly, giving her a quick smile. Making my way to the refrigerator, I pull the door open to grab out creamer and settle into a quiet routine of making my coffee. I shuffle around her while also keeping my distance, so she doesn’t feel like she’s in my way. Holding up the pot to her, I ask, “Coffee?”
“No, thank you. I don’t drink it.”
I lean closer to hear her because she’s talking in an almost whisper, like she’s afraid to wake anyone in the house. Looking over her shoulder, I see Walter zonked out on the floor to her left. Apparently, it’s too early for him as well.
I choose not to sit down, but lean against the counter a few feet from her, watching as she fries up a few pounds of sausage in a skillet. “Smells good,” I inform her.
She flicks her eyes over to me, then down to my chest and arms before rapidly turning her focus back on the pan. I look down at myself and curse internally when I realize I forgot to put a shirt on. To be fair, I normally go straight to the gym once I wake up, and never throw one on until after I shower. Cuts down on laundry.
Turning back at her, I open my mouth to apologize and offer to cover up, but I close it when I see what she’s looking at. Her eyes are locked on my arm, where I’ve got a full sleeve of tattoos decorating it from my shoulder to wrist. She doesn’t look horrified, just curious.
I decide to use her interest as a conversation starter hoping to learn a little more about her. “Do you want one?”
She blushes when she realizes I’ve caught her staring. “I can’t have one of those.”
“Why not?” Anyone can get a tattoo, unless they have medical reasons or something like that. She doesn’t answer. Flipping the burner off on the stove, she picks up the skillet to drain the fat onto a paper plate covered with paper towel where the grease can cool before tossing it away. “Do you want one?”
