Chapter 3 - THE FIRST TIME BROCK CAME TO OUR HOUSE
Three months before the hospital, a neighbor called deputies after hearing shouting.
Trent had been drinking.
I had told him I wanted access to our joint bank account.
He laughed.
I told him I was serious.
The argument escalated.
A lamp shattered.
I locked myself and Lydia inside her bedroom.
Twenty minutes later, someone knocked.
“Sheriff’s department.”
I almost cried from relief.
Then I opened the door and saw Brock.
Trent stood behind him.
Smiling.
Brock looked around the living room.
Broken lamp.
Overturned chair.
A red mark around my wrist.
He saw all of it.
“What happened?” he asked.
Before I could answer, Trent laughed.
“She got emotional.”
Brock looked at me.
“Cassidy?”
I should have told him.
Instead, I looked at Trent.
That was enough.
Brock knew.
He walked outside with Trent for several minutes.
When he returned, his expression was different.
Almost irritated.
“You two need to cool down.”
“That’s it?”
“What would you like me to do?”
I looked at my wrist.
Brock followed my eyes.
Then he said something I never forgot.
“Marriage gets messy.”
No report was filed.
At least, none that I could ever find.
Two weeks later, Brock and Trent went hunting together.
After that, whenever Trent became angry, he had a new sentence.
“Go ahead. Call the cops.”
He would smile.
“Call Brock.”
That was when fear changed shape.
I no longer believed help was guaranteed just because I could reach a phone.
So I started keeping records.
Quietly.
Dates.
Photos.
Bank withdrawals.
Voicemails.
And eventually, one audio recording.
I never told Harry.
I was ashamed.
Not because Trent frightened me.
Because I had spent years defending him to the person who loved me enough to notice.
Then, six days before the hospital, Harry came to my house unexpectedly.
He saw me transferring photographs onto an old flash drive.
“What is that?”
“Nothing.”
“Cassidy.”
I closed the laptop.
He stared at me.
Then he looked toward the driveway to make sure Trent wasn’t home.
“Do I need to get you out?”
I wanted to say yes.
Instead, I said, “Not yet.”
Harry’s face hardened.
“That’s not the same as no.”
May you like
I promised I would call him if anything happened.
Six days later, Lydia did it for me.
