#domestic assault tw

[xiyade]

I've been following Saltanat Nukenova's case through internet what seems to be for months now. Domestic assault tw: she was beaten by her husband, left alone for 12 hours to die while her husband (who used to be the minister of economy) went on to have dinner in the very same restaurant he killed her. The trial was highly publicized in the Russian-speaking parts of the internet. While it can't bring her back or make her death any less violent and lonely, I hope that she rests in peace knowing that they had just passed a law in Kazakhstan criminalizing battery/dv (called Saltanat's law) and that pig got 24 years

[neurotypicalabusesurvivor]

We need to put wife beaters and parents who spank their children in the same box.

Sorry domestic violence is domestic violence.

[traumadumpwriter]

Freedom - A John Shelby fic

Chapter Eleven

Summary: An extremely traumatised woman finds herself tangled up in the lives of the Shelby's again and through John's love is able to find some peace. Though that peace can never last long.

All interactions are extremely appreciated! It sucks putting so much effort into writing just for your work to be hardly noticed. Any tips on how to boost interest?

Trigger warning for graphic depictions of abuse, sexual assault, self harm, blood, general violence, mentions of drugs and alcohol, time period typical misogyny

Chapter One | Ten | Twelve

Masterlist

Chapter Eleven

Knuckles white as he gripped the wheel, John raced to the shop without even thinking to pick up Ada - only able to focus on the rage. Red hot, blistering rage, fuelled by the haunting image of Alice's crumpled body. It taunted him like a ghostly apparition whilst the smokey, serpentine roads felt like they stretched on forever.

By time he got out of the car, slamming on the breaks in the middle of the street, his anger had reached new heights. Luckily, it wasn't particularly busy at the shop; just the usual workers sat around, and so there was no halt when John stormed into Tommy's office, immediately met by alert blue eyes.

"You're a fucking prick, you know that?" John's voice was instantly raised as he paced to his older brother, who didn't as much as flinch upon recognising the intruder. Tommy had already received a bollocking from Pol that morning and wasn't at all surprised to see John's furrowed brows and closed fists. Still though, he couldn't help but be annoyed by the disturbance - he was busy dealing with the other results of last night after all - so his mouth remained straight and his gaze unsympathetic.

"She's in hospital right now because of you! Do you even care?" John slammed a hand down onto the desk with a shout, desperate for even a crack in his brothers face. "Huh Tommy? Do you even give a fuck?"

"Yes John, I give a fuck. And that's why everything worked out, didn't it?" The patriarch responded flatly before lighting a cigarette.

"No it didn't all fucking work out! Did you not fucking hear me? What about her being hurt is bloody alright to you? Alice could've died last night." John growled in response, almost spitting in his fury.

This newfound opposition from one of his most loyal soldiers was starting to get under Tommy's skin.

"Well she can't be doing that bad if you're fucking here, can she John? Huh?" His eyes started to widen with irritated energy and his voice got gradually louder. "Because she ain't even your wife and you've gone soft for her! Where's your balls John, she fucking agreed to it and if there's an issue she can come speak to me. Are you a fucking carrier pigeon now?"

John gritted his teeth.

"No, I'm fucking not. I'll tell you what you are though. You're a fucking cunt. An egotistical fucking cunt. And-"

"Well at least I've not gone soft for a nut job, John. Because that's what she is, a fucking nut job! And you plan on marrying her! You're even thicker than I thought-"

That was it. John leapt across the desk and punched Tommy's face, quickly earning an equal punch back as they started to brawl. The noise instantly caught the attention of everyone in the shop and Pol soon burst in with a drunken Arthur - only just awoken and still stumbling.

Her shouts were being ignored as the brothers hissed at each other in between their attacks, knocking over furniture and sending each other flying.

"You're just fucking bitter that your woman ain't ever coming back, but mine did. You're still fucked off over some clapped cavalry cunt!" John declared before shoving Tommy backwards with a scoff. He went to punch him again but his brother had suddenly floored him.

"Cus' she's such a woman ain't she John? Still acting like a bloody animal whenever there's any opportunity to do so!" Tommy had a grip on John's leg, dragging him with gritted teeth until he was also pulled to the ground.

John used this opportunity to jump up and start kicking his brother, although he quickly clambered up too and threw a heavy punch to his face. Blood spat from John's mouth before he threw a heavier punch back.

"You've got no one." He growled before gripping Tommy's shoulders and slamming him against the bookshelf, classics falling down with the intense shake. John's fingers moved to squeeze Tommy's throat.

"Well last time I checked this so called woman ain't even yours, she's still Mrs Buckley." The elder mocked with wide eyes and a venomously sharp tone. He knew his brother wouldn't kill him.

Although if John was seeing red before, it was now a faded shade in comparison to the colour he saw then. The words made him feel sick. Mrs Buckley. It gave his whole body an intense wave of revulsion as he threw his brother down to the ground and then kneeled over him, quickly starting to pummel his face as Tommy landed punches to his gut.

"Don't you ever fucking say that!" A guttural shout much louder than the others erupted from his mouth followed by a flurry of hits that halted Tommy's arms entirely and finally drew over Arthur.

John didn't stop hitting until he was suddenly grabbed by the eldest, which was a mistake on his part because he swiftly received a punch to the face that also sent him to the ground whilst Tommy was clambering up.

Just as John was about to go for his brother again, Pol's voice finally broke through the violent haze and he turned to her for the first time since she entered, paying attention.

"Alright John, you've floored them both. That's enough." Despite the demanding tone, it was a familiarity he found comfort in and the red began to fade. Unbeknownst to him, she shot Tommy a sharp glare just as the eldest was about to open his mouth and make another taunt.

"What's she in bloody hospital for? I thought you said she was alright last night?" Her words grounded him back into the current reality and his breathing started to even out; followed by a glance down at his fists which he realised were splattered with blood.

It took him a moment to collect his thoughts, looking around the room and seeing Arthur still on the floor. He made a step towards him, an instinctual desire to help his brother but quickly stopped himself as soon as he remembered Pol's question.

"Her ribs.. and the cuts." He answered numbly, staring back down at his hands. "I should get Ada-"

"Leave Ada out of it and go back there yourself. God knows she's got enough on her plate without your bloody mess." Tommy finally spoke, earning a side eye from John who's tone immediately soured again.

"You sold Alice out to get fucking ravaged by those sadistic pricks!" His shout brought a heavy silence to the room, even Arthur's groans stopping. "And you told her she'd be fine."

Everyone in the room felt a guilty pang in their guts at those words, John's pain so palpable it was no longer something even a brother could mock. Tommy didn't know what to say in response, there was no justification that wouldn't just further anger John. And so he pursed his lips and said nothing, resuming his previous cold face.

It wouldn't have to last much longer anyway as John was heading towards the door, spitting on the ground before scoffing "You're lucky, you'd be fucking dead if I'd found her a minute later" and promptly exiting, his miserable pace out considerably slower than his determined march in.

Everyone waited to hear the front door slam before moving, Pol marching across the room and landing a firm slap on Tommy's bloody cheek as Arthur hoisted himself up with a grunt.

"You happy with yourself?" She tutted and then turned to Arthur "Both of you need to sort your bloody acts out."

—————

Knowing the Shelby's reputation very well, the nurses attempted to give Alice the best care they could. It was just a few stitches and some ribs that needed to be set - the care didn't need to be amazing. But her vacant expression, hollow voice and visibly self inflicted scars made them mostly quite uncomfortable, leaving just one nurse in charge.

"If she were a woman off the streets she would surely be moved to facility more suited to her needs; a nuthouse of sorts. But because she's with that awful gang, that's not allowed. She's my responsibility instead." The nurse thought bitterly.

She stayed sat a few feet away from the bed, keeping her watch on the tangled hair and tired eyes; doing anything to avoid her tattered arms. The nurse didn't know why it made her so uncomfortable but it did. There was something so unnatural about it, so unnerving. And so instead of continuing her awkward attempt at conversation with the sunken down woman, she handed her a small bottle, the glass thick and brown.

Alice shot a confused look to the nurse, knowing the contents of said bottle were quite unnecessary for her current predicament.

"I don't need this." She spoke lowly, earning a hidden eye roll from the nurse before she replied "It's for the pain."

"Yeah I know, I'm not hurting too bad-"

"I meant up here." The nurse pointed to her own head. "Shuts my thoughts right up."

Despite the passive aggressive nature of the nurse's offer, something that Alice would usually call out, she was too tired to voice a response. And she actually quite liked the idea of her thoughts shutting up. Morphine wasn't too dissimilar to the opium that Jones had fed her - something to make her stop fighting back - and although that specific idea made her feel sick, the sweet numbness seemed heavenly.

The syrup was soon dripping down her throat before the bottle made its way into her pocket, something the nurse couldn't even be bothered to argue with. "She clearly needs it." She mentally justified to herself.

It didn't take long after that for the effects to kick in, Alice's body melting into the bed and her brain going numb. There was no longer such an intense shooting pain whenever she moved and the previously shouting voices in her head mellowed out into calm whispers. A sigh of relief left the nurse's lips upon seeing a slight smile finally form upon Alice's, even if it was twitching and tiny. 

The mental quiet was so relaxing, a desperately needed reprieve that Alice bathed in for a while. The opium has never been that relaxing, accompanied by the abuse, but by itself Alice could really see the appeal. She lay, blissed out for some time, until the sound of heavy footsteps pacing through the tiled corridor caught her ears.

She opened her eyes and John appeared in the doorway a second later, his body immediately un-tensing slightly upon seeing Alice awake and seemingly okay. The nurse promptly excused herself, completely ignored by him.

Now that they were alone with so many things to discuss, his pace slowed and the lump in his throat started to build again. Every step closer to the bed his brain became more desperate for something to say. Scrambling but unable to choose. There were a ridiculous number of topics to pick from and yet none of them seemed right.

Hurting his brother hadn't made him feel any better, in fact it made him feel worse; even angrier at Tommy than before - and he definitely didn't want to talk about that, let alone let slip the cruel words said about her. There was also the conversation of what to do next - get married soon or maybe never - and that didn't seem appropriate given the current mood nor did John even want to risk hearing rejection in his current mind state. And then there was the uncomfortable "How are you?" when the answer was glaringly obvious - that would just be stupid to ask.

It was too late now, he awkwardly stood at the end of the bed and still couldn't think of what to say. All air left his lungs and a heavy silence filled the room. What could he do now?

"It's okay. Come here." Alice's soft voice thankfully broke the silence, sounding like an angel choir to John.

Despite her hazey head, not only were his physical injuries visible but so were his emotional. Eyes a dizzying array of sadness, guilt and anger. Brows tightly furrowed. Lips pulled harsh into a falsely apathetic line. A moment passed before he let it up, finally releasing a heavy sigh and pulling a chair to sit beside her.

She held out her hand and he immediately gripped it, holding his head to her cold fingers for a few seconds before looking up again, her face always managing to make him feel extraordinary - bruised or not.

"You alright?" She gently cooed again, moving that hand to stroke his face which was now just as marked as hers.

Her touch made him feel even more strange, a trail of sparks left behind on his body by her beautiful, soft skin.

"How does she do this to me?" He thought as her hand started to feel like a cradle, almost comforting enough to lull him to sleep. Almost. His gut still felt knotted and a lump still danced in his throat.

"It's okay, we don't have to talk." Alice remained soft and calm, her light mood being aided significantly by the morphine. Only an hour beforehand she was certain that she'd ruined everything; her thoughts festering and screaming that John would never want her again, she'd be disowned by the Shelby's, everything had been ruined by her inability to say no to danger. Now those worries no longer bothered her. Instead she was just content with John's presence, comforting him instead of needing it herself.

"For once." A nagging thought attempted to pull her from the comfortable numbness but it was quickly squashed as he finally spoke, his mouth open for a second before he managed to get the words out.

"I want to talk." He stammered, swallowing again before continuing in a tone closer to his usual confidence.

"I want to talk, I just don't know where to start... I'm so bloody angry at you for even putting yourself in danger. You're a magnet for it and the worst fucking part is that you like it. You like the blood. You're sick, Alice." He took a sharp inhale, Alice's hands slowly falling from his face as each painfully honest word landed; the cloud she was on suddenly sinking.

"But I fucking love you." Now his voice quietened and his hand quickly made its way to her still face, rubbing her cheek softly as she had to him. "You're the dream that kept me going somedays in the trenches. And now I've got you, it feels like everything in the world is trying to take you away from me. Yourself included."

His words were slowly sinking in; heavy and hot like tar. It took Alice some time to think of an adequate response, her heart feeling simultaneously overjoyed and broken by the admittance, and just as she was about to mumble a slew of apologies, John spoke again, eyes boring into hers.

"They've given you something, haven't they? I should've waited to talk about this." A humourless chuckle left his lips, not even giving Alice time to respond before pulling his hand away and standing up, the chair legs making an ugly scraping noise that sounded ten times louder than usual combined with the sudden withdrawal of his touch. "I'll go find a nurse and sign you out-"

"W-wait!" She blurted out, anxiety now managing to creep it's way back up her spine. John's stare did nothing to alleviate that anxiety, but she knew she had to push through the fog and say the right thing - something intelligible at least.

"Can we continue.. from yesterday, yesterday morning I mean.. I'll make us breakfast, we can dance and everything will be good... I love you."

The heavy weight anchoring his lips down finally seemed to have been lifted, a smile that met his eyes lighting up his pale face. There was nothing he wanted more than to continue from yesterday morning and act as if none of this had happened.

"You're on bedrest, Alice. I'll make breakfast." He said with a playful scoff.

And just like that, the comfortable adoration had returned at least partially. Rocks removed from stomachs and lumps from throats, Alice sunk back down into the bed with a relieved sigh as her body relaxed again whilst John headed to find a nurse.

Looks of judgement were passed between patients and staff when he speedily wheeled her down the hall, the pair giggling loudly and the occasional gasp escaping Alice's lips at the every sharp turn. The dried blood and dark bruises heavily juxtaposed by their visible joy; as per leaving the nurses with more questions than answers when it came to the Shelby's.

Less than an hour later, the pair were laid back in John's bed and instead of laughter the room was silent. Contently silent. Their fingers were intertwined and their eyes glued to each others faces, taking in each minute detail with deep satisfaction.

The undivided attention was an intense aphrodisiac for the both of them, an unspoken wish that this moment could last forever. It was like a spell neither could explain, no words even needing to be spoke. After a while, John started to drift into sleep but not before Alice mumbled a quiet "I love you" and promptly dropped into a deep sleep moments after.