Conviction(37)

He hit me.

He f*cking hit me.

I start to cry again, the full realisation of what my husband just did, suddenly overwhelming me.

I stay in the shower for ages, letting my tears flow while I scrub the smell and all traces of him from my body. I try to think straight. What should I do? Should I leave? Now, or in the morning? Should I give him a chance to explain, to apologise? What if he wakes up and does it again?

I suddenly panic that the sound of the shower might wake him up. I jump out and wrap myself in a towel, still shaking uncontrollably. I go down to the laundry and pull out a hoodie and my hammer style yoga pants from the dryer. I head back upstairs and get my phone from beside the bed. Marcus is still face down snoring. I stand and watch him for a few seconds. He looks like an angel in his sleep. His blond curls need cutting, He never usually lets it get this long, but he’s been in court every weekday and on the golf course most weekends.

I wipe my tears away on the back of my hand and walk out of the room. I call Duchess from the kitchen and grab my keys. I jump in my car and drive straight to Sophie’s.





I sit in my parked car, outside Sophie’s flat. I don’t remember the drive here. I don’t remember getting dressed, collecting Duchess, or picking up my keys. I look down at my dog, curled up in the footwell on the passenger side.

“What just happened, Duch? Why did he do that?” I wrap my arms around myself and try to stop shaking. My throat and chest ache as sobs wrack through me. Duchess puts her head up on the seat and looks up at me with her brown puppy dog eyes.

“What did I do? What could’ve happened to make him do that to me, hey girl?”

I sit in my car for a few more minutes trying to calm myself down. I have a key to Sophie’s place. I actually used to live here with her before I moved in with Marcus. It’s above our very first salon we opened together. I look up at the windows and considering the time, I’m not surprised that there are no lights on.

Sophie and I had been out to a wine bar after work tonight. I’d only had a couple of glasses as I had to drive home. Sophie had polished off a second bottle because she only had to walk across the street to get home. She’d probably passed out cold as soon as she got in so I didn’t want to let myself in and startle her.

I give Duchess a rub around her neck and ears and take a few calming breaths before pressing call against Sophie’s name on my phone. It rings out three times before she finally picks up on my fourth attempt.

“Neen?” she croaks out in her sleepy voice.

I cry.

I try not to, but I can’t seem to control myself.

“Neen… What the f*ck? What’s wrong? Nina, f*cking talk to me.”

I can’t. I can’t get the words out. I can barely get a breath in or out so words have no chance.

I start to panic. I’m scared that I’ll drop my phone and pass out. A million different ridiculous scenarios run through my head, but no words come out of my mouth. Then suddenly, something inside my dysfunctional brain kicks in and I hit the horn as hard as I can. I keep hitting it. Someone, somewhere, has got to hear that and come and help me.

Duchess starts barking. I undo my car door, trying to drag air into my lungs and suddenly she’s there. Sophie, in a pair of sleep shorts and nothing else, and she’s screaming at me while trying to cover her boobs.

“What the f*ck, Nina. What’s going on?” She’s bending down with her head in the car, Duchess keeps barking and I can’t stop crying.

“Fucking tell me, Nina? Are you hurt? What happened, just tell me what happened. Shush Duch, shush.”

I start to feel calmer, the sensation of my blood whooshing through my ears stops and I manage to breathe.

“Inside,” I whisper to her, “I need to get inside.”

She looks all over my face and body. Her brows pulled down in concern.

“Of course, of course,” is all that she says.





Without me even noticing, my feet touch the ground as I move from my car, up a flight of stairs and into Sophie’s flat. I’m now curled into the corner of her sofa, with a blanket over me.

Sophie disappears for a few seconds, then reappears with a hoodie on over her shorts. She goes into the kitchen and pulls a bottle of wine from the fridge and two glasses from the cupboard, setting them down on the coffee table in front of us. Without saying a word, she pours us both a large glass, then pulls a packet of cigarettes from a drawer in the coffee table and lights one. She passes me my wine. I’m not sure if I want to drink straight from the bottle or throw the contents of my stomach up into the nearest receptacle. Sophie takes a long draw on her cigarette, then a swig of her wine. Her eyes on me the whole while.

“You gonna tell me what the f*ck is going on? Coz you’re scaring the f*ck outta me right now.”

I cry, again. I’m not overcome with the great heaving wracking sobs like I was earlier. This time I just cry silently. Duchess puts her head on my leg, I stroke her head and meet Sophie’s concerned gaze.

“He hit me.”

Her face screws up in confusion. “What? Who?”

I suck in my bottom lip to try and stop it from trembling.

“Marcus,” I whisper.

“What? Marcus hit you?” she shrieks. I nod my head. Sophie shakes hers. Her mouth opening and closing, but no words coming out. She suddenly jumps up and puts the overhead light on, instead of just the lamp and looks at me.