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“What do you mean? I’m just over here seeing how my girlfriend is. You’re bleeding, sweetheart.” He’s moved in close to me, and I can smell the stale sweat and body odor that’s wafting off him. He reaches a hand up to touch my face, and I flinch away.
“I’m not your girlfriend, Tyler. You know that. We went on two dates.” That’s apparently not what he wanted to hear because he slaps me across the face. Hard. I let out a cry and cradle my cheek. I’m cowering now, afraid of what he might do next.
“The only reason you’re not my girlfriend is because you’re a whore.”
“You better get out of here before my roommate comes out of her room and calls the cops.”
Instead of making him leave, my statement just makes me laugh. He runs his hand over my shoulder, and I try to move away but realize that he’s backed me up against the wall. “You think I don’t watch everything you do, honey? I know you’re here all alone waiting for me.”
I let out a whimper and frantically search the room for something, anything, I can use to defend myself. I spot my cell phone sitting on the coffee table across the room. Maybe if I can get to it, I can manage to call 9-1-1. I take a tiny step to the side, trying to inch closer.
“Aren’t you going to apologize to me?” He grabs my arm and twists it hard. There’s a popping in my shoulder, and I let out a pained yell, worried that he’s going to dislocate it.
“Apologize for what?” I gasp, trying not to think about the pain as he continues his crushing hold on my arm.
“For cheating on me, of course.”
“I didn’t cheat on you, Tyler.”
That seems to make him angrier. He threads his fingers through my hair at the roots. He’s pulling so tightly that there are spots in my vision. “Yes. You. Did.” Each word is punctuated by him slamming the back of my head into the wall. My vision is blurry, and if he wasn’t holding me up by my hair, I would’ve staggered to my knees. “I saw you with him in his truck. You were acting like the little slut you are. You could have been mine, but instead you had to whore around like all the rest of them. I don’t even know why I’m wasting my time on you.”
He’s screaming in my face, and I can taste his rancid breath. I’m dazed and weakened by his attack, but I hope that he’s being loud enough for someone to hear us and get help. I realize that he’s completely lost it at this point, and there’s no reasoning with him, so I try begging instead. “Please, Tyler. I’m so sorry. Please, just don’t hurt me.”
Dropping my combative response seems to be the way to go because his features soften just slightly, and his grip on my hair loosens. “I know you’re sorry, honey, but I have to correct you so you won’t do it again.” A burst of agony shoots through my entire right side and realize that he’s punched me in the ribs. I can’t seem catch my breath. Every time I try to breathe there’s a sharp stabbing pain.
That pain seems to clear my head and gives me the sudden realization that I’m going to die. There’s no one here to help me and I’m going to die right here on the living room floor if I don’t do something. Since he had to let go of my arm to punch me, he’s only got a loose hold of my hair now. I can barely see out of my right eye, since it’s swelling shut from where the door hit it, but I can still see my phone on the coffee table. It’s my only chance.
I dart to the right past him, surprising him. I can feel hair being ripped from my scalp, but don’t have time to register the pain. I’m almost to the coffee table when his heavy body plows into me from behind, causing us both to crash down onto the glass coffee table. It shatters into a thousand pieces beneath us and I can feel glass shards embedding themselves into my skin. There’s a dampness all over my body and I know that rivulets of blood are pouring out of me. I just hope none of my major arteries were nicked.
“You stupid fucking bitch,” he screams at me before punching me in the face. My body is exhausted and broken, my mind cloudy. I can’t do anything but lie here for a minute and try to catch my breath. The taste of copper fills my mouth, and I wonder how much of my body is actually bleeding.
I see Tyler push himself up off me, and besides a few cuts on his hands and arms, he looks relatively unscathed, confirming my hunch that I took the brunt of our fall.
“You know, if you wanted cock so bad you didn’t have to go to an old man to give it to you. I’ve got a perfectly good one right here.” He grabs the crotch of his pants and makes a lewd gesture at me. A new rush of fear floods my body. Is this asshole going to rape me? I don’t care if I die fighting. There’s no way that’s going to happen.
I scream, “Help! Somebody help me! Please!”
Tyler rushes toward the open front door, and I sigh in relief, sure he’s going to leave now that I’m calling for help. Instead, he returns with a roll of duct tape in his hand. I scream louder, but he quickly covers my mouth with the tape, wrapping it around my head before tearing the piece off, rendering my screams ineffective. I’m freaking out in earnest now, afraid of what he’s going to do to me. Why didn’t I tell someone about his texts, about him showing up at the restaurant? I thought he was harmless. I was obviously wrong.
He bends down and places a kiss on where my lips would be if they weren’t covered by the tape. “Don’t worry, honey, I’ll make it good for you.”
I try to struggle up to my feet, but the room is swirling and tilting around me. Before I can make it upright, he’s got me by the hair again and starts dragging me across the floor. I scream and kick out with both my legs, trying to dislodge his hold on me, but it’s no use. So instead I grab for anything I can get my hands on. I feel my fingers close around something large and hard, and I feel a stinging down the center of my palm. I realize it’s a piece of glass from the coffee table, and though my first instinct is to immediately release this thing that’s hurting my hand, I desperately hang on.
All of my struggles have slowed his progress toward the bedrooms, so I take the opportunity to use all the strength I have left and twist my body around so that I’m facing him. I bring my hand up and plunge the piece of glass into his calf. He lets out a howl and tries to pull his leg away without letting go of me, but I manage to keep my grip. I twist the glass so that it goes in farther and opens up the gash. Hot blood spills over my hand and I pull down hard, dragging the glass shard through muscle and flesh before it’s finally too slick with our combined blood and slips from my hand.
Tyler’s face is purple with rage, and the last thing I see is the bottom of his shoe coming toward my face before everything goes dark.
TWENTY-FIVE
Bianca
These stupid fucking shoes.
I won’t lie. I love high heels. They make me feel sexy and powerful. I wear them every day to work even if I’m only working the front desk of the studio. But today, these shoes can suck it. Just as I was walking to my car after work my heel caught in a crack in the sidewalk, and I went crashing to the ground, skinning my knee. What was worse was the heel had broken off my favorite pair of Betsey Johnsons.
As I’m scanning the street for a parking space, I see Violet’s car parked at the curb and smile. I can’t believe that she and my dad thought I would be angry that they were dating. Is it a little weird? Of course. But it’s not like I have any reason to be mad about it.
Sure, I was trying to push my parents back together, and maybe for a fleeting moment I thought it would be cool if my parents were together again, but I just wanted them both to be happy. I know my mom has dated quite a bit in the twenty years since they divorced, but I’ve never once seen my dad date. I was honestly a little worried he was still hung up on her. Well, it looks like Violet took care of that.
