Part Seven: The Apartment

Maggie and Jamie shared an apartment, but one would not know a woman lived there. Maggie was relegated to three dresser drawers and a nightstand, any feminine touches she offered deemed “tacky” or “cheap”. (Jamie’s words. She thought grey was a nice, neutral color and light woods would brighten the space, but whatever.) So she walked into their living room every night feeling like a guest, removing her shoes upon entry and hanging her coat in the “junk closet”. Someone might think it weird that Jamie would hide her, accuse him of bringing other women to the apartment. Whenever Maggie thought about that possibility, she realized she didn’t care. She’d emotionally checked out of the relationship a long time ago and accepted that everything Jamie did was to make her feel small. He wanted to shrink her down as much as possible, make her feel as worthless as he could, in the hopes that she would never leave him. Acquiescing came easy to her; she knew how to fill her eyes with tears every time he called her stupid and blush profusely whenever he pointed out a flaw of hers. Little did he know, none of his antics worked. Maggie pretended, but a man so desperate to control another person lost all of their credibility in her eyes. Would a man like that cheat? Maybe. Probably. But if he did, it said everything about him and nothing about her. If his only value stemmed from hurting her he was actually pretty cheap.

So why stay, one might ask. Because it was easy. There was no way she could afford this apartment on her own and when she’d come to Laurel she wasn’t exactly flush with cash. She’d needed a place, he’d pretended to be nice and two weeks later she was out of the motel and in his apartment.  It was fast, yes, but a means to an end and all that. It wasn’t until she’d gotten settled in (and maybe a little bit hopeful that her luck was changing) that he’d shown the first signs of being a monster. It happened quickly; she’d left an ice tray in the freezer half empty. Maggie had never met a person this would bother but Jamie was furious. He called her lazy and irresponsible and all kinds of names that didn’t make sense considering the offense. It was then that she recognized what she was dealing with; hanging her head low, eyes to the floor (because this is the game, right?) she apologized profusely and said it would never happen again. And it wouldn’t.

Until she could afford to leave.

And then, game on.