Sheltered - A Short Story Read online

  S H E L T E R E D

  --- A Short Story ---

  B. R. Miller

  © Copyright 2018 B. R. Miller Media

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  It was in the middle of a hot August heat wave when I decided I was going to take my life back. Sloan came back to our campsite after being gone for hours drunk, angry, and in the mindset that I was why our life was the way it was. He pulled up in his red Ford pickup and slammed the door, but not before half a dozen beer cans came pouring out, the hollow clanking of tin mocking the fullness of our relationship. The picnic table between where he was and the chair I was sitting provided little distance between us as he jumped onto the table screaming, cursing the day he met me, and threatening to end my life.

  I stood up, making fists as I was accustomed to in moments like these. He slowly took a step down onto the bench and then the ground, nearly toppling over.

  “You worthless piece of shit!” he called at me. “You embarrassed me at the bar!”

  “But I didn’t do anything,” I said, not raising my voice.

  “My wallet, scum bag! I told you to put it in my truck!” he said, pointing towards his vehicle.

  I looked down at the cooler and noticed his wallet sitting next to an empty beer bottle, right where he had left it hours ago.

  “How was I supposed to pay for my beers, Devyn? I had no fucking money!”

  “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” I cried.

  I looked around and noticed the people in the campsite next to us headed into their tent, zipping up the fabric door which alleviate only the stuff that they had to see. They still had to listen to our domestic dispute which even calling it that was a vast understatement. My eyes scanned the rest of the campground and noticed the same thing. No one was going to come to my rescue.

  “Sorry? Sorry!” he yelled, taking two giant steps towards me.

  I backed up, my heels running into the firepit ring.

  “You fucking bitch!” he yelled as he brought a fist behind him.

  I ducked and moved to my left. His body weight went with him as his arm came soaring through the air at me. He tripped and landed flat on his stomach, instantly cursing me out even more. Slowly, he got back to his feet. Sloan charged at me and tackled me over, knocking over the cooler and putting his full body weight on top of me, my breath escaping like my hopes for a happy marriage. His hands went around my neck and began to squeeze. I tried gasping for air but it was useless. I reached for the beer bottle that was lying next to me and readied my face for another swing. His fist flew through the air and collided with my eye, making my head fly to the right and the beer bottle tumble out of my grip. My hand came up and felt a trickle of blood seeping from a gash near my eye.

  I slapped him across the face which made him stumble back for a moment. Quickly, I scurried to my feet. I turned around and saw him lunging towards me again. I found the beer bottle on the ground beside me and I gripped it tightly. With all my might, I swung it around and smashed it across his temple. Sloan stumbled to his left, his hands gripping his face, his voice trembling as he cried out, his shoulders falling into the fire.

  I stood up and ran. I didn’t bother to see if he was alright. Even if I wanted to, my feet wouldn’t let me stop. I pushed aside several large branches which bordered the campground with the wilderness. Loud, angry cries echoed from the tree tops as I ran – Sloan was coming after me.

  A small stream was no match for my will to go on – to survive. My feet splashed through and I continued on, not stopping for what seemed like hours. Years of abuse had led to this happening. If I went back and apologized, it would only make things worse. He would kill me.

  After some time, the cries from behind me eventually died out. When I thought it was safe, I stopped, leaning against an old oak tree. My chest was heaving up and down and for the first time, I felt the pain from the blow I received. I brought a hand up and gently pressed it against my cheek. When I brought it back down, it was covered with dark crimson blood.

  I looked up at the sky and noticed the sun had nearly set. Terror began to run down my spine as I knew I shouldn’t be alone in these woods at night. I was never much of an outdoors person, and in that moment, I wish I would have paid more attention to what my father tried teaching me as a girl.

  My knees hit the ground hard as I burst into tears. What was I doing? There was no way I could have a life outside of Sloan. Yes, I had dreamt of it since the abuse first began, but now years later, I found myself taking the first steps without him and it terrified me. I was foolish to think I could have done it, I thought.

  My feet ached as blisters quickly formed. I had to continue, though, to a destination I wasn’t sure even existed. I stood up, took a deep breath, and took the next step. I had to focus on those steps – one and then another. If I let my mind wander and slip back to Sloan, my feet would slow down. So, I pushed him out, however hard it was, and kept on walking.

  It had to have been close to midnight when I stopped next. The moon was shining in all its glory and on any other night, I would have stopped and admired such a beautiful night, but not this night. I was out of breath, thirsty, hungry, bleeding, and at the point of nearly giving up. My hand rested against a tree when I saw in the distance two yellow lights. Cautiously, I took a few steps towards them. Were they campers? A town? Maybe they could offer help, get me to safety.

  Soon, I found myself in a clearing. The grass was neatly trimmed and on the far side of the lawn was a small cabin with two windows facing me. I paused for a moment. My body was telling me to go in and ask for help and a glass of water, but my mind was telling me to be cautious. If the person that lived there was any bit at all like Sloan then I would be in even bigger trouble.

  A figure moved in front of the window and paused. I could tell it was a man and he was carrying a book in his hands. He hadn’t noticed me standing in his yard so I watched him for a moment. He was tall with a strong build. A slight scruff adorned his face and his hair needed a good combing through. It could have been my mind searching for any help that I could get, but to me, he seemed like he could be trusted.

  I took a step towards the cabin and instantly my ankle rolled. I collapsed in a heap on the ground, a scream bellowing out, and my face colliding with the grass fiercely. I placed my hands firmly on the ground and tried to push myself back up but it was useless – I was too weak. The edges of my sight began to fade to black. I did my best to fight it off as best as I could but soon I let the blackness take me. But just before, I felt two strong arms bend over and scoop me up.

  “Sloan!”

  I shot awake, my breathing instantly quickening and my hands balled into fist. I looked around and to my surprise, Sloan was nowhere to be seen. I was in the cabin now, lying on a bed, with a blanket draped over me. My eyes scanned the room to see if there was anyone else in there with me but to my surprise, I was alone. Instantly, my head started throbbing and the room began to spin slightly. My hand came up to my head to steady myself when I felt the coarse cotton gauze pad that was secured over my wound. The blanket was thrown off me to see that I am still clothed, but my shirt was stained with blood.

  Shaking feet touched the floor as I stood up, finding strength again. The cabin was small, everything was in one room except the bathroom. A fireplace laid on the far side of the room next to a book shelf and a small writing desk. A small sofa sat in front of the fireplace with an old blanket draped loosely across. Two wooden chairs were tucked in neatly under a wooden table next to a quaint kitchen – perfect for a single person.

 
The door behind me creaked open and in walked the man I saw through the window. He was carrying an ax in one hand and held the door open with the other. At the sight of me, he froze, his expression turning to shock. My fist came up ready to fight if I had to.

  “Hi,” he said shyly. “I’m Brent. What’s your name?”

  I didn’t say anything. I stood there, standing my ground with my fist ready to fight.

  “I promise I won’t hurt you,” he said.

  The man known as Brent looked down at the ax in his hand and chuckled. He slowly set down the ax along the wall and shut the door.

  “Do you know where you are?” he asked calmly.

  When I didn’t answer, he slowly made his way around to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water that sat on the counter.

  “You should drink something,” he said, extending the glass out towards me.

  I looked at the glass then at him. For all I knew it could have been laced with something. My legs began to lose their strength rather suddenly and just before I would have hit the ground, Brent was there to catch me. He held me and looked me in the eyes, a boyish smile flashing across his face. His eyes were large, a deep shade of blue that resembled the depths of the ocean staring back at me.

  “Maybe you should lie down,” he said.

  I nodded. He was right, I wasn’t ready to be up yet. Brent helped me back to my feet then led me to the bed. I sat at the edge and watched as he sat down next to me, handing me the glass of water with another little smile. My fingers wrapped around the glass and I stared at it for a moment before drinking the entire glass.

  “Guess you were thirsty,” Brent laughed.

  The throbbing in my head returned so I brought my hand up to my temple. Brent noticed this and placed a hand on my shoulder. Instantly I flinched.

  “Hey, hey, sorry,” he said apologetically.

  I felt bad for him. He meant the best of intentions but I just wasn’t used to being touched in a non-abusive way. I flashed him a little smile.

  “If you don’t mind me asking,” he began slowly, “what happened to you?”

  At that question, my mind raced back to the previous night. I heard Sloan’s screams, I felt his hand colliding with my face, I remembered the terror I felt not knowing if I was going to survive. Tears welled up in my eyes and my breathing became heavy. Soon, I could hardly breathe. I placed my hands on my knees to try and calm myself but it just wasn’t working. Brent got down on his knees in front of me and spoke in a smooth and calm voice.

  “Take deep breaths. Focus on each breath. Don’t try to think about anything else – just the breath,” he said softly. “You are safe. Nothing is going to hurt you.”

  As he said that, I began to regain control of my breathing. I focused on his voice and did as he told. Who was this man that could bandage wounds, calm my nerves, and made me feel safe? Soon, I was wiping my tears away.

  “There we go,” he said with a smile. “Much better.”

  I tried to tell him ‘thanks’ but no sound came out. He must of known what I tried to say because it was then that he began to speak in a more light-hearted manner.

  “What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t help a damsel in distress?” he said through a laugh.

  I smiled back at him. We remained like that for a while and didn’t say anything. It was nice, though, to know that someone would be interested in trying to help me instead of hurt me.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked a few moments later.

  I nodded my head yes. In fact, I was starving. My journey the previous night had taken a lot more out of me than I had thought. Soon, he was busy cooking a magnificent breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast, and homemade jam. I sat on the bed and just watched as he cooked. He would occasionally turn and tell me things, like how he was never a good cook but over time he had learned, and how living as far away from everyone as he did he couldn’t simply go the neighbors to ask for a cup of sugar. He made me feel safe, and in that moment, that was all I needed.

  “I was an only child,” he said, cleaning up his plate. “I always wanted a brother or sister, but my mother said that after me the world couldn’t handle anymore!”

  The way he was talking to me was as if we had known each other our whole lives. He treated me as an equal and I wasn’t sure of how I should respond. But I wanted him to know that I appreciated what he was doing for me.

  “Devyn,” I said softly, my first words to him coming out coarse.

  He paused what he was doing, freezing his hand midway through combing his hair with his fingers. He flashed a smile at me and spoke sincerely.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Devyn.”

  My cheeks turned a hundred shades of red as I looked down at my cleaned plate. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table, resting his head in his hands.

  “I want to show you something,” he said, grinning like a child on Christmas.

  He stood from his chair and crossed the table so he was standing beside me. He extended his hand down towards me and held it in front of me, asking me to take it. I stared at it for a moment. A part of me feared taking his hand because how could I put my trust in any man ever again? But a larger part told me that this man wasn’t like the rest – he would treat me right. I placed my hand in his and when I did he gently pulled me up and took me to the front door. Slowly, he opened it to reveal a small porch adorned with two wooden rocking chairs.

  “Look out there,” he said, pointing a finger just past my head so I could follow it.

  There, just outside the door on the lawn was a mother deer and her baby peacefully feeding on the grass. I stared at them for a while. It was such a beautiful thing to see. Despite all the trauma and terror I had gone through, it was a pleasant reminder that there still was still love and beauty in the world.

  Brent led me to the nearest chair which I sat in slowly. He took the seat next to me and didn’t say anything for a while. We just watched the mother and baby graze peacefully.

  “They come here every morning,” Brent eventually said, breaking the silence. “They feel safe here.”

  I looked down at my hands and noticed my fingers were playing with themselves. Gradually, I built up the nerve to tell him what I was feeling.

  “I feel safe here,” I said, looking at him but blushing at the same time.

  He smiled back. “Then there’s no reason for you to leave just yet.”

  A smile formed and for the first time in what seemed like years, it was genuine.

  Brent and I sat there the rest of the morning, hardly talking but enjoying the company. We watched as the deer moved on and a small flock of geese landed and began their search for food. If only I could have stayed in that moment forever I would have. But I knew Sloan would come searching for me. He had his resources and that’s what I feared. I had to tell Brent what happened, but I just couldn’t seem to vocalize it. But he had to know what he was getting into. He had to.

  “What was it like?” Brent asked me, grabbing my cleaned plate from in front of me. “I mean, Alaska is someplace I’ve always wanted to visit but have just never gotten around to it.”

  “Incredible,” I replied. “Breathtaking.”

  “How long has it been since you’ve been up there?” he asked, starting to fill the sink with soapy water.

  “I haven’t been there since I was a girl,” the memories suddenly flooding back to me.

  It had only been a day that I was at Brent’s cabin but it felt like years. Shutting out Sloan seemed like an impossibility, though, and in the back of my mind, I knew he would find me eventually.

  “One day I’ll get up there,” Brent said, trailing off into a dream.

  I watched as Brent washed the dishes. Everything about that man enticed me to want to learn more about him. The way he stood, the way he talked with his hands, the way he dressed – it was all different from Sloan. Over the years, I had come to believe that all men were just like Sloan. To see Brent and the way he was brought back
a new sense of wonder in my world, even hope.

  “Have you ever read Into the Wild?” he asked me, snapping me out of my day dream.

  I shook my head no. Reading had been a passion of mine growing up, but once I met Sloan, I put it aside. It wasn’t until that moment that I remembered how much I used to love it.

  “It’s about a kid who throws away everything he had, everything! Money, cars, clothes – just to get back to nature,” Brent said, resting his hands on the edge of the sink.

  It sounded like a book I would have loved to read back in my youth. Brent set down the sponge and dried his hands on his shirt as he walked over to the bookshelf. After a few moments, he pulled out an old book with a torn cover and wrinkled pages. He handed it to me with a smile.

  “He meets some of the most interesting people on his journey. He overcomes obstacles that would make most people give up, but he stuck it out, persevered, and lived the way that made him happy.”

  The book in my hands had been read many times judging by the wear on it. Yet somehow, it felt as if it was brand new and waiting for partake in its wonders.

  “Read it,” Brent said. “I’ve read it so many times I’m thinking it’s beginning to become an addiction.”

  Brent chuckled and I smiled. He took the seat across from me and placed his elbows on the table. It was obvious he wanted to ask me something, but something in him was restraining himself. I stared at him, not wanting him to ask the obvious questions. I wasn’t ready to go into what happened- not yet at least. He took a deep breath in as if it was his final chance to back out of the question. I quickly scanned the room for anything that would help me distract him. Finally, I spotted a picture hanging on the wall – just in time.

  “Is that your parents?” I asked, pointing to the photograph.

  Brent turned to see where I was pointing to and began to nod. “Sure is. They were pretty great. They raised a good kid. But maybe I’m bias.”