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“Gee, thanks.”
“Being honest. That fucker going to come back? You want a weapon?”
“You have weapons?” I asked.
To that, he lifted his shirt, and there one was, tucked in his waistband.
“I don’t… I don’t even know how to shoot,” I admitted.
“You point, you pull the trigger, pretty simple shit. I got five more in my place. Let me bring you one. Hopefully, you won’t need it. But if someone is all up in your place and you need to, you’ll have it.”
I didn’t want to say yes.
I mean, even having possession of a gun that wasn’t registered to me was a crime. That said, I really didn’t like the feeling of being powerless against a bigger attacker.
“I would really appreciate that,” I said, nodding.
“Get some ice for your face. I’ll be right back,” he said, then disappeared down the hall.
I didn’t hesitate to take his advice. Especially given that my face felt like one giant, throbbing wound.
I had soft icepacks in my freezer. For Wren. For the many times I’d needed to give her one to ice her face.
She was also the reason I had a bag full of bruise-concealing makeup in the back of my closet. Stuff I would need to use to go to work the next day without every single person I encountered asking me what happened.
What the hell had happened to my life?
I’d been a nice, quiet, unassuming teacher once.
Now I was getting shot by the mafia and accepting hush money and beaten in my own home.
Tears stung my eyes and I blinked them stubbornly back as I heard Marshall’s heavy footsteps coming to my door. He’d stopped to knock before letting himself back in.
“Alright. Simple here. It’s loaded. So don’t fuck around with it,” he said, showing me the gun. “This is the safety. You gotta do this,” he said, demonstrating, “if you are going to shoot. Then that’s it. Not gonna give you extra bullets because I can’t imagine you’d need ‘em. Not for close range like with that fucker.”
“Thank you, Marshall. Really, I mean it.”
“It’s nothing. I got me a mom and a sis and a load of cousins. Wouldn’t want that shit happening to them either. Stay strapped and you stay safe. Also, gotta get some better locks for this door, yeah?” he asked, waving at it. “The chain and the knob lock ain’t gonna cut it.”
“First thing in the morning,” I assured him.
“Good. I’ll be up for a bit. If you even think he might be back, scream. I’ll hear you, even if I pass out. I sleep like a ma with a newborn. Fucking everything wakes me up.”
“You’re amazing. Thank you. I will find some way to repay you, I swear.”
“Next time you’re cooking something good up, drop a plate at my door. Haven’t had a home-cooked meal in years. Always take a deep breath when I walk past your place and something is cooking.”
“Absolutely. Every single time I cook,” I promised him.
To that, he gave me a nod as he started to close the door behind him. “Get some rest. You’ll feel like shit in the morning, but at least you won’t be tired.”
With that, he was gone.
And I was rushing across my apartment to slide the locks I did have, making a mental note of how much space I had to add additional locks. I’m not saying they would keep him out, but they would make him take longer to get in, which might alert some of the neighbors.
It gave me a chance.
I made a cup of tea with shaking hands before making my way into my bedroom, deciding to skip the look in the mirror, figuring I’d endured just about enough shock for the one day.
