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The man had his head turned in my direction, the fucking shadows making him seem almost unreal, like maybe this was all a hallucination. He was so big, taller, thicker, and more muscular than the man pressed to the wall in front of him. Still he stayed silent; still he watched me. And then he lifted his hand, placed the barrel of the gun against my attacker’s forehead, right in the damn center, and everything seemed to stand still. I knew enough about guns, had seen plenty of movies, to know the silencer attached would make this clean, would have no one panicking and rushing away at the sound of a gunshot.
I took a step forward, not sure why I’d do that. It was the equivalent of trying to touch a chained, starved dog, wanting to run my hands over it even though I knew it would attack me, tear me from limb to limb.
“No,” I said. He might have been about to attack me, rape me, God, who knew what else. I couldn’t stand here and watch some man shoot him. I didn’t want that hanging over me, even if he deserved that and more. “I don’t want that,” I whispered. A long moment passed, maybe a second, maybe an hour. It seemed like ages where my body was stiff, my heart thundering, the man with the gun staring at me. He didn’t pull the trigger, even though maybe he should have. I felt dizzy, my head swimming, the feeling of falling having nothing to do with the drinks I’d had or the situation that had transpired up until right now. “It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it,” I whispered again, but even though I didn’t know this man, I knew that he wasn’t the type to give a shit about what was worth it or not. He did what he did because he wanted to.
I knew that as well as I knew the man with the gun pointed to his head could be shot dead at any second.
I was very aware of the blood rushing through my veins, drowning everything else out. The frat guy was saying something, but I couldn’t hear it, couldn’t focus on anything but the man in front of me who held so much power it could have brought me to my knees.
After a tense second he took a step back, the gun still in his hand, his focus now on the asshole who’d had me in a choke hold. He still hadn’t said one word, not when he cocked the weapon, and not when he had his thug slam the frat-guy up against the building. And he didn’t say anything when he lifted his arm and rammed the butt of the gun at the asshole’s temple. The guy slid to the ground, maybe knocked out, maybe trying to make himself smaller, less noticeable.
And then there was nothing but him and me, staring at each other, the air thick, the world washing away. He turned and left me standing there, his hand at his side, the gun still in his grasp. The flash of a ring caught my attention, a thick one wrapped around his pinky, seeming much more ominous than it should. He got back in the car and drove off. I followed the car with my gaze, watching it disappear down the road, knowing he was staring at me the same as I was him.
I had no idea what in the hell had happened.
I didn’t know if I’d ever be the same.
CHAPTER THREE
I WIPED the sleep from my eyes, my dreams from last night consisting of a big, dark man. Even though I couldn’t see his face, I knew he was more dangerous than anything I could have come up against. He’d had ropes around me, laughing in this deep, sick, and twisted way that had made my humanity run and bury itself deep inside of me.
I’d slept for shit because of it. The dreams coupled with what I’d witnessed last night had been enough to keep me up, a warm glass of tea in my hand…the only thing stable enough to tie me to reality in that moment.
“Darryl’s got your check in back,” Rita, the assistant manager of this shitty coffee shop, said as she passed me.
“Thanks,” I mumbled. I had bills stacked against each other back in my shitty apartment, and although I worked overtime, I still wasn’t making it, was still struggling just to survive.
The story of my life.
I finished tying on my apron and walked over to Darryl’s office. My pervert of a boss was hunched over his desk, his cell pressed up to his ear as he barked into the receiver.
“I don’t care what he said. I asked him to be here an hour ago.” A moment of silence passed before he spoke again. “Listen, if he doesn’t show up, then I’ll give his position to someone else.” He disconnected the call and tossed the phone. I stood there for a second before clearing my throat. Darryl turned and looked at me.
Okay, he’s not in a pervert mood, not when he’s mean mugging me like that.
I’d take his anger over him slipping in lewd comments any day.
“Rita said my check was here?”
He started pushing papers aside until he got to the stack of envelopes. After flipping through them and finally finding mine, he handed it over without looking at me.
“Can you come in tomorrow an hour early?” he said, still not looking at me. He was such a shitty fucking boss.
“Yeah.” I needed the extra money, needed another job really. As it was, working at the coffee shop wasn’t cutting it. My electric was going to get cut off any day, and I was barely scraping by enough to pay my rent.
Cutting out the bar scene is going to have to be a priority.
I hated myself on some level for going out at all, for spending what little money I had. But if I didn’t get out, I’d kill myself. Maybe not literally, but I’d be stuck in that shitty apartment, no heat or electricity, staring at the wall. I’d be waiting for the world to swallow me up, because that would have been the only thing I had going for me.
“Actually, I was wondering if you had any overtime?”
He looked at me then and shook his head. Man, he had a bug up his ass big-time today, but I’d take it over his wandering eyes and his crude comments.
“Sorry, I’m strapped for hours. What you are scheduled is all you’re getting.” And that was it. He waved at me to leave, and I forced myself not to make an under the breath comment.
Asshole.
I got to work because thinking about my problems, about the fact I’d have to find another job, wasn’t what I wanted to dwell on. I had no one to ask for help, no one that really gave a damn a
bout me. I was on my own in every possible way.
Twenty-two years old and a shell of a woman, an empty vessel that has nothing good going for her.
I shouldn’t have had to feel alive by clubbing and getting drunk. I should have had some light and happiness in my world. But then I knew that wasn’t how reality worked.
I SAT on the curb at the back of the coffee shop. I had three more hours before my shift was over with, before I’d go back to the crushing realization of where I actually was in this world. It was times like this where the stress was almost too much to handle, where it tightened its hold on my lungs, squeezing me, trying to make me go blue and wither away into nothing, that I wished I had a cigarette. They were vile things, but smoking would have given me a small out, a tiny thing to focus on as the world went upside down around me.
The sound of the door opening had me glancing back. Marshall came through, a white trash bag in his hand, his ball cap crooked. He looked just as worn-out on the outside as I felt on the inside.
“Hey,” he said, his smile genuine.
“Hey.” I focused on the back of the building in front of me. It was an antique shop. Maybe they were hiring? I felt someone close by, watching me, and looked over to see Marshall staring at me. “What’s up?”
“I heard you talking to Darryl about needing extra hours.”
I nodded, not sure where this was going. Marshall was lower on the totem pole than I was, and he barely worked as it was.
He looked around as if he was afraid, as if he didn’t want anyone overhearing. Then he came closer, the smell of coffee beans coming from him in the same strength I assumed it came from me.
