“Okay,” I whisper.
“You ready to do this with me?”
With me. Not alone. Together.
“Yes.”
Cal smiles, the most beautiful, breathtaking smile that I have ever seen. With a renewed purpose, I don’t even bat an eyelid as he pulls his phone out of his pocket and clicks on his camera.
He needs pictures of my body. Evidence. Proof.
Can I really do this?
Can I risk this all going horribly wrong?
It turns out that I can as I undo my shirt and let it fall to the floor. Cal sucks in a breath and begins to photograph me. Every visible part of me that has been tainted by Michael is being captured on camera.
This is how I escape.
This is how I begin the end of my terrifying journey.
This is how I save myself.
Cal stops taking photos and puts his phone away. I pick up my shirt, put it back on and sit down in my chair. My hands are shaking, my body trembling, but I have a renewed hope inside of me.
Cal.
He’s giving me hope.
He’s showing me the light.
I see the pain in his beautiful royal-blue eyes, and I hate that he is hurting because of what I am going through.
“I know you, Lucy, and I know that you want more than these pictures as proof, but this will do something. These pictures will help the police see what you have been going through.
“Come with me now. Leave him. Let me look after you.”
His words cause tears to fall down my cheeks.
“I can’t, Cal… It’s not enough,” I say between my sobs.
“It is, Lucy, it is enough,” Cal urges.
“It’s not,” I say with a shake of my head. “I want him to suffer for a long time, not just for a few months.”
“You don’t know that it would just be for a few months––”
“Yes, I do. I’ve read up on cases like mine. I’ve read about how others live in fear because they only get to breathe a short sigh of relief, if they are lucky. I need to know that he isn’t going to be free after only a couple of months of being locked away, if he were to be locked away in the first place. I need him gone for a long time. I don’t want to always be looking over my shoulder, Cal.”
I probably sound ridiculous, but I’ve done my research. I’ve read enough to know that I need several incidents to get a conviction. It’s not fair, but then nothing about this situation is fair.
“But I will be right beside you. You won’t be alone,” Cal says, the desperation in his voice making me ache.
“You can’t be with me twenty-four-seven.”
“Don’t make me leave here knowing you have to go back with him,” Cal whispers, his hands finding their way to mine.
Statistics don’t lie. The cases I have read about show that most abusers get to walk away because so much evidence is needed. This is why I have to stay and get as much proof as I can. This is why I can’t just walk away now. This is why I have to endure more fucking pain, because the system is just as fucked as I am.
