“My hands are cold, my body’s numb. I’m still in shock, what have you done? My head is pounding, my vision’s blurred, your mouth is moving, I don’t hear a word. And it hurts so bad, that I search my skin, for the entry point, when love went in, and ricocheted, and bounced around, and left a hole, when you walked out, yea. I’m falling through the doors of the emergency room; can anybody help me with these exit wounds? I don’t know how much more love, this heart can lose. And I’m dying, dying from these exit wounds. Wounds, when they’re leaving, the scars you’re keeping, exit wounds, when they’re leaving, the scars you’re keeping. Marks a battle, still feel raw. A million pieces of me on the floor, I’m damaged goods, for all to see. Now who would ever want to be with me? I’ve got all the baggage, drank the pills, yeah this is living but without the will. I’m blacking out, I’m shutting down, you left a hole, when you walked out, yeah.”
~~The Script “Exit Wounds”
Lily looks down at her skinny legs and sighs. There is a big bruise on the side of her left knee. This is not uncommon—she bruises like a peach. However, this incident would make even the hardest skin bruise; it would make even the toughest man cry.
She sips her hastily brewed coffee and glances at her jacket, haphazardly hanging off the corner of her desk. It is representative of her life right now—everything is hurried; everything is rushed; nothing is perfect. She works all day and escapes the confines of her cubicle to rush home on the subway. Her apartment building is located in the best spot in the city (in her opinion) because it is located on a block with a gym (membership only), a vegetarian restaurant, and a bagel shop. She has to stay in her apartment until late—around 8ish—before she can emerge to work out or eat. It is safest that way.
Work goes by quickly at the Vogue office. Lily works as an author—not on cover pieces yet, but on little things. She writes the daily fashion column and the horoscopes. The horoscopes are the absolute worst to write—who believes in them anyway? What hope is there in fate? —If you want something, you have to do it on your own. Lily hates the idea of fate and destiny—she believes they are just excuses. Besides, how can you explain the people who are homeless? Are they destined to have a horrible life? What about the people who get abused, or raped, or heartbroken? Why must one wait for fate to change anything, instead of trying to jumpstart the process?
“Lily!! Are you even hearing me??”
Lily resurfaced with a start, “I’m so sorry, Camille. Would you mind repeating that?”

Camille was her boss at Vogue. There are so many different levels and positions that no two people report to the same person; there have to be at least 50 different “bosses” to control all the different employees, Lilly thought. Unfortunately, Camille was the worst of the bunch.

As if Camille could read her mind, she scolds, “I swear, Lily, you are lucky you have some skill. But don’t take that for granted—there are plenty more girls that would kill to have your spot! You are not totally out of the ordinary—you are replaceable.”
Lily sighed, “I really am sorry, Camille. It won’t happen again.” That last word really stung. She already knows it is true—why belabor the point?
Camille grunted, “As I was saying, your last piece was fine. But I want more pizzazz. I want more zing. People read the daily column to get reliable advice from somebody who knows and cares! Not somebody who lacks personality and more importantly, answers. Give me five good articles by the end of the week or you’ll need to get some advice of your own about new jobs!”
As Camille stormed off (her walk was more like a strut—her “storm” was stomping her feet as she strutted down the aisle—it would be quite comical if the situation wasn’t so serious), Lily turns back to her open word document and gazes absentmindedly at the blinking cursor.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At the end of the day, the office clears out gradually as workers wrap up their work for the day. Lily strategically leaves every day in a massive crowd, in order to not be alone walking out into the dark city night. She wants to keep herself protected from danger---lately she has had more than her fair share.

As she exits the subway car onto the platform, she glances up and notices a familiar bush of unruly scarlet.
“Hi, Lily! How’s work going? Any new pieces?” asks Rachel.

Rachel is Lily’s best friend—her fiery red hair makes her impossible to miss and also impossible to deal with when she is angry. She works across the floor from Lily, but they always make sure to connect after work to talk on their walk home. She knows Lily’s routine, so she sometimes meets up with her at the gym or dinner so they can catch up.

“5 amazing articles for Camille”, Lily says sarcastically. Rachel chuckles sympathetically—the whole company knows about Camille and her antics. Only the “lucky” ones get to deal with her on a daily basis.

“Joy! Hey, I’m really sorry but I have to cancel our dinner plans tonight. I have to drive out to Jersey and babysit my niece—my sister thinks she can call last minute and I will rush to her side!!” grumbles Rachel. They had arranged to meet at a fancy Italian restaurant called Carmine’s. Rachel wanted a “proper girl’s night”, so they were going to dress up and treat themselves to a nice dinner.

With a blast of fresh air as they climb the stairs back above ground, Lily smiles, “Well, you always do! But don’t worry about me—I’ll just go by myself”. She mockingly dozes off into the distance as Rachel laughs.

“Good! Have lots of fun with that and let me know how it goes!” Rachel winks as she rummages through her bag, “But I gotta run. The traffic is going to be horrible! Have a nice night, love. And don’t forget to call me if you need anything!”

Lily calls “See you tomorrow!” as Rachel dashes off to her apartment. She wasn’t going to lie to herself—she was pretty excited to have a night that strayed from her routine. But, routine has always been the most comfortable for her, so she knew the feeling wouldn’t last long. She looks around the street nervously—she didn’t want many people to see her enter the apartment building. In her mind, she is safest when few people know exactly where she is.

As she enters her modestly designed apartment, she throws her keys down on the tray and takes off her long coat. “Finally”, she sighs as she falls down onto the couch.

“I know, babe. It’s been too long.”

She jumps up and then freezes. She knows that voice. But why is that voice here, in her apartment. And where is that voice’s owner?

A massive shadow emerges from the kitchen. With broad shoulders and muscles bulging, Jordan epitomizes the stereotype of “macho guys”. He works out in the gym for hours and has an aggressive demeanor that comes out way too frequently (as Lily could attest to). His buzz cut only emphasizes his “manliness”, as he says, and clues the world into his job as a construction worker. If you asked him about his interests, he claims that he is “a man of many pleasures” because he likes to run AND bike and he isn’t picky about his booze or drugs. He is endearing and cool when you first meet him—that persona quickly fades.

“How did you get in here? What do you want? You can’t stay.” Lily is shaking, but she stands firm and frozen to her spot next to the couch.

“Hey now, don’t get so defensive” he croons as he walks over, “I miss you! You’ve been avoiding me—what’s kept you so busy?”

“Exactly that”, she thought, “avoiding you”. She clears her throat, “You know how Camille is. She demands a lot and gives a little. Besides, I told you we shouldn’t see each other for a little. I need space, remember?”

“Oh yeah? A little space means moving to a completely new neighborhood, right? Avoiding all of your favorite spots? Getting a new number, deleting your Facebook, writing under an alias? Babe, you are trying to disappear. But I still love you; you don’t have to hide from me. I can ALWAYS find where you are—what we have is special.” Lily shakes violently as she hears his voice, words saying one thing, tone saying another. She was going to pay for this. Again.

“Go away, Jordan. Don’t do something you will regret.” She says, attempting to sound more confident and strong than she felt.

“What are you saying?? Are you saying I’m going to hurt you?!” he takes a vase from the table and smashes it on the floor. “Are you saying that you can’t trust me? That, because of the ACCIDENT, you can’t stand to be in the same room as me?!” He walks closer, but every step forward he takes she backs up two.

“Jordan, stop. That’s not what…”

“It obviously is what you meant, babe.” He kicks a chair down to the side, breaking two of the legs off. “You think I’m a good-for-nothing, big bully. Well I have a news flash for you” He grabs her arm and yanks her back so his face is mere inches away from hers. She shudders as his grasp tightens—her eyes dart around the room, looking for a getaway. This was just like last time.

Jordan has been known to hurt Lily before. They met at a gym in Harlem a couple of years ago and they had a long relationship—mainly because Lily was in denial and too afraid to end things. Through the years, he became clingier and more invested in what she was doing and why she wasn’t with him. She had to report everything she did to him—he was flirting the line between stalking her and being very aware in order to make sure she was staying loyal and pure. He finally asked her to marry him, and she had to put her foot down. That’s when the accident happened; Lily ended up in the hospital as a result of his fury. She couldn’t remember a thing that happened—all she knew was that he beat her physically and threw things. Of all the abuse she had endured, this was the worst and the scariest for her.
The hospital respected her privacy—they only allowed family to visit her. Her parents helped her buy a new apartment far away from her home and they helped get her out of the hospital without him knowing. Once she was out in the real world, she knew she’d have to be careful. She, unfortunately, had to stay at her job but she was able to move buildings and adjust her contact information. All of the sneaking around and having “safe” places became the normal for her. Eventually, she knew, she’d be safe. She just had to stay cautious until that day. And it had all been ruined.
He shook her and brought her back to real time, “You know I love you, right? I never meant to hurt you, you know that. But all of this time apart was just wasted time—we should have stayed together. I know you didn’t want to leave me; it was Rachel’s fault, wasn’t it? She never liked me—she must have forced you to leave me. But it’s ok, because we are back together now!! Just like we are married—together for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.”
The words hurt her more than his tightening grasp—those words are meant to mean the world to her, and yet they feel like a trap. Her eyes filled with tears; she has longed to hear that phrase for her whole life, but this situation is not the place for it.
Noticing an out, she steadies her voice and says, “No, Jordan. I do not love you. I will not marry you. I chose to leave you because you hurt me—not just the time that I ended up in the hospital, but countless times before that mentally and physically. You can move on and marry a girl who loves you back, and you can forget about the girl who broke your heart. Please, this is just a part of life. Relationships don’t always work out; just because this one didn’t, doesn’t mean another one won’t either!”
Jordan looked pained, and then his visage turned twisted into an angry expression. “You don’t see it yet, but you will. Come on, babe, we’re going home.” He turns with her to lead her out and blinks the “manly tears” away from his eyes.
She notices the momentary vulnerability and acts. Lily drives her knee upward into his weak spot and swirls around so he loses his grip on her wrists. She takes off with a sprint toward the window he used to get in to her apartment—he foolishly left it open. He roars and grabs something to throw to stop her; he is doubled over in pain, so he doesn’t run just yet. CRASH. She just barely dodges the lamp and tries to regain her speed. He stands up and attempts to move to catch up to her.
Before she knows it, she folds through the window onto the fire escape. She sprints down the stairs as fast as she can to get to the ladder before him. She can hear his heavy footsteps, pounding rapidly behind her. She is so close.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It is May 7, 2013. 2 months after the second incident. Lily laughs cheerily at the joke Rachel just told. They are at their favorite breakfast restaurant for a nice meal on a Saturday morning. Lily has not heard from Jordan for the entire two months.
During the escape, Lily acquired more scratches and bruises. However, she got away relatively unharmed. Jordan was not so lucky—he fell down the ladder and broke his back. While in the hospital, they found inordinate amounts of steroids in his blood system. The restraining order was a pretty easy process—there was so much evidence against him that his lawyer didn’t even attempt to defend against it. She was finally free.
Lily had a hard time adjusting to her newfound freedom—she still lived her life by certain routines and was very careful about being by herself in public. But, she moved into a new building (closer to other friends), got a new job (FAR AWAY from Camille!!), and changed up the timing of her schedule so she didn’t have to hide in her house for so long after work. A new man at the coffee shop has been smiling at her lately and yesterday morning, he paid for her tea. She was a little wary, but she figures, “Why not give it a try? How much worse can he be?” ?
“Now I’m alive and my ghosts are gone. I’ve shed all the pain I’ve been holding on. The cure for a heart is to move along, is to move along, so move along, move along, move along. What don’t kill a heart only makes it strong. Sometimes tears say all there is to say. Sometimes your first scars don’t ever fade away. Tried to break my heart, well it’s broke. Tried to hang me high, well I’m choked. Wanted rain on me, well I’m soaked. Soaked to the skin. It’s the end where I begin. It’s the end where I begin.”
~The Script “End Where I Begin”