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I assist her into a standing position, give her a few seconds to regain her balance, and we start for the door.
She stops and stands over her abuser.
I wait. He’s no threat to her. Not with me here and not zip-tied to the stool.
He glares up at her. She steps over his lithe body. I move forward to stay close to her.
“Cassie.” I glance at the open front door. “We have to go.”
Her body twists around. Setting each foot on either side of his body, she slowly lowers and sits on the asshole.
Eyes locked with her abuser, she reaches for his hand and pulls the ring from his finger. She slips it onto her finger and clenches a fist.
She leans close to his face. “Let’s see how you like it, asshole.” She shifts back and slams her fist into his face.
The fucker’s head snaps to the side. I feel the hit in my bones. Even in her weakened state, this woman is strong.
The asshole’s dark eyes move, meeting hers. His neck strains as he lifts his head from the floor. “I’ll find you, bitch.”
His body jerks up.
I step on his shoulder, pinning him back down to the floor.
She hauls her arm back and hits him in the face again. The little fighter doesn’t stop. His cheek splits open, and blood spurts from his mouth.
No part of me will stop her. After what he did to her, I can’t deny her retribution. Most women just want to leave. Run. Get as far away from their attacker as soon as possible.
Not her.
She wants vengeance.
It’s dangerous.
Still, I refuse to stop it.
Eye swollen, fat lip matching hers, his head drops back against the floor.
Out of breath and shaking all over, she crawls off his body. She pulls the ring from her finger and throws it at him.
Her battered face turns up. She looks at me with her good eye.
“Okay.” She places her bruised and bloody hand on the floor. “I’m ready.”
She tries to push herself from the floor. Exhausted from the night, from the fight, she drops back down.
Recognizing her defeat, she’s ready for my help. I bend over and scoop her limp body into my arms. I carry her out to my car, put her into the passenger seat, deposit her things into the back seat, and get in.
She reaches for the seat belt with trembling fingers but has difficulty clicking it. I lean over and help her.
She slumps back, allowing me to assist her.
I click in the belt and look up at her. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”
“No.” Her head shakes.
“Are you sure? I can take you, if—”
“I’m fine. Just get me out of here.” Her eyes close. “Please.”
