Hidden in the Shadows

"Stop! Stop! Nooooo!!” She screamed over and over again until she was breathless.

The skin of Katherine’s legs scrapped and burned against the metal and carpet as he dragged her over the threshold of her dark bedroom. She moaned in pain. He flung her onto the bed as if she weighed nothing. She punched him, with all the strength she could muster, but all the managed to do was cut her knuckles on his tooth. He cursed and spit at her in anger and gathered the collar of her robe in his hands and violently shook her until her head jerked back and forth.

Katherine gasped for air as a powerful blow pounded into her stomach. Before she could catch her breath a punch hammered her face, cutting her lips. She cried out and whimpered in pain and screamed. The bitter taste of blood was in her mouth. She tried to squirm and pull herself away from him and almost made it to the edge of the bed. Her efforts were futile and he snatched her back onto the bed and pinned her beneath him with the weight of his body.

He twisted her left arm and then slammed it against the hard wood of the bedpost. Pain shot through her wrist and radiated throughout her entire body. He tried to restrain her right arm with the sleeve of her robe. While he was distracted she reached towards the direction of her nightstand. Her eyes filled with tears from the excruciating pain. She tried to reach the metal vase or the alarm clock with her swollen and throbbing hand. She strained, gasped, and strained. Her fingers stretched touching the cool metal. Her hand finally grasped the metal vase.

The vase smacked against his head again and again. He yelled and cursed as he rolled onto the floor from the blows. Katherine quickly stumbled out the bedroom and down the hall. She was light headed, trembling, and stumbling against the wall. She leaned against the spare bedroom door to catch her breath.

“Don’t stop you idiot!” She thought to herself.

She stumbled down the stairs and leaned against the banister to steady herself. She lurched into the dimly lit kitchen. She fell to her knees and gazed wildly around the small room. She paused and tried to think. She instinctively climbed into the utility closet. She remembered the loose panel and pushed it open. She crawled quickly into the dark narrow opening. A rancid, dank odor filled her nostrils. She muffled a sneeze and shivered. The darkness surrounded her and she tried to compose herself when she felt the presence of tiny unknown crawlies on her extremities. She wanted to yell and run out of her hiding place in disgust but her fear kept her silent and still.

“Why didn’t you just run out the front door!” She almost yelled out loud to herself, but she was in her creepy-crawly hiding place and she wasn’t moving until she felt she was safe.

After some time had passed, the blaring sound of sirens stirred from her hiding place. She crawled out of the pantry and rushed to the sink grabbing her cup towel and furiously washing her face and her and hands and arms and shaking her hair. She ripped off her robe and through it to the kitchen floor. She cleaned her ears and nose out with the towel and just shook herself. She fought the waves of nausea that came in waves. She could hear the screeching wheels of several cars outside her apartment. For reasons she couldn’t quite explain she wrapped her arms around herself and crouched down in a corner of the living room and just rocked back and forth, back and forth.

The sudden pound at the door and loud authoritative voices of police made her reluctant to stand to her feet. She stumbled a bit and cautiously made her way to the front door of her apartment. She looked through the peephole. She unlocked and opened the door, sat on the floor near the sofa, and closed her eyes tight.

Three uniformed police officers rushed into the apartment with their guns drawn. One of the officers examined her with his trained eyes and asked if she was carrying any weapons and if there was anyone else in the apartment. Despite his firm tone he had a look of pity in his brown eyes. The other two officers checked the apartment.

The female officer called from downstairs that the house was clear, and then said something that Katherine couldn’t quite hear. The officer that stood next to her, holstered his gun and crouched down in front of her.

“Mam! I’m Officer Smith,” said the other male officer, who stood behind her. “Your neighbor reported noises and screams coming from your apartment. Could you tell us exactly what happened?”

Katherine turned and looked up at him. He glared at her from behind his thick, smudged glasses. He was slightly gray haired, tall and stocky with a frown carved on his face. He seemed annoyed and cranky. She chose not to speak to him. She sat there silent.

“Back off Wilson! I’ll talk to her,” said the officer who was crouched in front of her. “Miss I’m Officer Leaman. Can you tell us what happened to you?”

When she looked into his eyes, she could see that he was genuinely concerned. She heard his question, but she didn’t know how to answer. She was speechless. Both officers stared at her. Officer Leaman leaned towards her. She flinched and leaned away from him.

“Everything’s going to be okay. Let’s sit down on the sofa.”

He helped her stand and they both sat on the sofa. He looked at Katherine and despite her battered and tear-stained face and torn, blood stained clothes, he wasn’t repulsed by her appearance. He had seen much worse. He handed her a crumpled tissue from his pants pocket. She just sat there, motionless, and speechless.