She lay on the bed for nearly half an hour. Devastated. Her cheek still burned from the blow, and though she had cried more than she could ever remember, the tears had stopped. Inside she was cold. Numb. Never in their entire relationship had Mason ever raised a hand to her. Never had he given her reason to doubt his love. That he was her one and only partner in life. That it was them against the world. But no matter how she tried to reason through these thoughts from the past, nothing could erase his actions and the revelations just discovered. He was lost to her. He had abandoned their relationship. She had been cast aside. She was alone. In all of the world, she was more alone than she could possibly even imagine.
She almost messaged Sarah, but stopped. She could not think of what to say to her. She needed her. She needed to know that her daughter was okay. That Bradlie was okay. But she didn’t trust herself. Sarah would know instantly that something was wrong. Very wrong. And once she did, what would Grace tell her? What could she tell her? That her dad was a monster? That he had just beaten her up? That he had a mistress? Oh, and Sarah dear, if something happens to me...you might want to ask you dad about it. No. She could not reach out to Sarah, not right now. No matter how much she needed her. But she couldn’t just lie here forever, she admitted. Reluctantly she rolled to the side of the bed.
“Wear the red gown when you come up.” Mason had said just before he left. “The one without the straps. The polls are always better when you wear red.” He said, as he checked his tie in the mirror next to the door. “And Grace,” He began, without an ounce of emotion in his voice, “Don’t forget your meds.” He hadn’t waited for an answer. He expected her to arrive, wearing that specific dress, just as the debate ended. She checked the time. It was still another half hour before it was scheduled to begin, and then the debate itself would last two hours. There was no need to rush. She went into the bathroom, and stared into the mirror. The side of her face blossomed red. She ran cold water and wet a cloth under the stream. Gently she placed it against the side of her face. She stared past the cloth, her one uncovered eye looked deep into it’s counterpart in the mirror.
The woman in the mirror looked beaten. She looked lost. She looked like a victim. This was not someone that Grace recognized. Even with all of the things that she had been through in her life, she had never seen this woman before. And as she stared at this reflection, she did not like what she saw. She glanced down at the pill bottle on the counter. Her meds. And as if in reaction, she felt a tremor run through her hand. She laid the towel on the counter, grabbed the bottle, shakily twisted off the top, and shook out two small white pills, hesitated and then shook out two more. She tossed them into her mouth, and swallowed. Again she stared into the mirror. Who had she become, she thought. The tears leapt to the edge, as the pain she felt inside swept across her face. She refused to let it win. She fought the emotions back, and her expression relaxed.
When Connor messaged her, she was still applying makeup in an effort to cover up any evidence that Mason had hit her. She could still see the faint outline where his hand had landed, but she hoped that it would not show under the lights. She added more blush to her cheeks which helped to dampen the line. She did not know what she would do if it turned into a bruise. When she did not immediately reply, Connor messaged her again. He was standing in the hallway at the door. She replied for him to come in, but that she was indisposed. She would be out shortly. She heard the door open, and close. There were footsteps, and then the sound of a chair shifting in the kitchenette. She finished with her cover-up. It would have to do, she thought. He rose from his chair as she exited the bedroom.
“Hi Connor.”
“Mam.” He nodded, and then slid back into the chair. As she crossed the room, she did not look at him, but she felt his eyes on her. Somehow, she felt naked. She felt exposed. Even though the quadruple dose of medication she had taken had calmed her, her hand still shook as she poured a glass of wine. She took a sip, and turned around only to find Connor staring at her. She turned away, and crossed the room to activate the vid screen. The pre-debate show had already started. She turned the screen back off. As soon as she had seen the stage in the background, she had felt nauseous and faint. She reached out to the wall to steady herself.
“Mam, are you alright?” Connor asked, as he quickly crossed the room. He touched her gently on the shoulder. “Grace?” She did not answer, not immediately. She steadied herself, and took a deep breath. And as she slowly released it, she turned to face him. She could see the genuine look of concern on his face. But as she watched, the look suddenly intensified. “What happened?” He asked. Quickly she stepped away from him.
“What?” She did not look at him.
“Mam...Grace...what happened? To your face?” He came to her, but again she stepped away.
“Nothing.” Once more he came to her, and touched her gently on her shoulder. She turned around to face him. Naked, she thought. “I fell.” She said, but did not look him in the eyes.
“You fell?” Connor asked. She nodded, but still avoided direct eye contact. “Where?” She turned away from him again and took a sip of wine before answering.
“In the bathroom.”
“When?”
“About an hour ago.”
“How?” She turned back towards him.
“What does it matter?” He seemed surprised by her question.
“If I thought you were telling me the truth, it wouldn’t matter, mam.” His reply stunned her. Who was he to decide whether she was telling the truth or not, she thought.
“I fell.”
“In the bathroom.” He said. “About an hour ago.” She nodded. “When Mr. Alexander was here.” She considered his statement for a moment, and then nodded. “But he didn’t call for any medical attention.”
“It was nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing.”
“Just forget it.”
“Forget it? Mam, I’m afraid that I cannot forget it.”
“I fell!” She yelled at him. “Just leave it alone.” He paused at her outburst, but then lowered his voice to a calm soothing tone.
“Grace...go and look at your neck.” She instinctively brought her hand up to cover her neck. She had been so focused on diminishing any sign of the blow to her face, that she had not even bothered to examine her neck, even though right now she still felt the effects of when she had been viciously grabbed by her husband. She rushed into the bathroom, and raised her head as she looked at her neck in the mirror. The red imprint was unmistakable. It wrapped around her neck in the shape of a hand.
“Damn.” She whispered. Connor appeared in the doorway.
“You need to tell me what happened.” Slowly she lowered her head. He was right, she knew. But she couldn’t even tell herself, how could she tell this man. “Grace...I told you I am here to protect you.”
“He’s my husband.” She told him. He’s a cheating lying bastard, she told herself.
“Grace, I told you...I promised you...that I would protect you. Even from him.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Understand what? That he hit you. That he choked you?”
“He’s under a lot of pressure.” She said, but even as the words came out of her mouth, she questioned why she had said them. Why was she defending him? Hadn’t he crossed enough lines in the sand? He had hit her. He had choked her. He had threatened her life. He had cheated on her. He may be planning to kill her. And, he had had something to do with the bombing at Bazir’s hotel. If she defended him, she would become complicit. Yes. She would. And she could not do that. She made a decision.
“Connor, I need to show you something.”
Chapter 21