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“I don’t need those,” I said, my voicecroaky.
“You might not, but I think Mr. Perry will. Your friend has justarrived.”
“Myfriend?”
“Mr. Miller, he’s currently kicking the shit out ofhim.”
“Oh, no. Stop him,please.”
He rose and talked on his radio. “Dave, stop that bloke from killing Mr. Perry. Tell the police he took a tumble down the stairs orsomething.”
My body ached as I sat up and rested my back against the wall. As much as I tried, I couldn’t stop shaking, or the tears that rolled down my cheeks. I brought my knees to my chest and rested my head on them. I closed my eyes and tried to take some deep breaths to ease thepain.
“Out of the way,” I heard. Mackenzie had arrived. He crouched down in front ofme.
“Baby, look at me, let me see your face.” I looked up. “Fuckingcunt.”
I shook my head. “I’m fine. Just a little shaken, help me up,” Isaid.
He reached under my arms and lifted me to my feet. “Let’s get you sitting down,” hesaid.
He placed his arm around my waist and helped me to the kitchen. He pulled out a chair and I sat. He paced and it was then that I saw his balled fists: with broken skin andbleeding.
“The police will be here shortly, you should go wash your hands,” Isaid.
“Fuck my hands, what did he do to you?” He placed his hands on the table and leaned down towardsme.
“He punched me, grabbed my hair, and kicked me. I curled up.” I began to sobagain.
“I’ll fucking kill him, Lauren, I swear,” he said, as he wrapped me in hisarms.
I held onto him and criedharder.
“Police are on their way up,” the security guard said. “She’s right, go wash your hands, Dave has told them Mr. Perry took a tumble down thestairs.”
Mackenzie walked to the kitchen sink and rinsed his hands. He looked around for a towel before drying his hands on his trousers. I heard a knock on the still open apartmentdoor.
“In here,” Mackenzie called out. Two policemen walked through to thekitchen.
I gestured to the chairs opposite me and they sat and introduced themselves. Mackenzie leaned against the kitchencounter.
“Lauren, can I call you that?” I nodded. “Can you tell us what happened?” oneasked.
I took a deep breath. “I heard a knock at the door, to be honest I thought it was Mackenzie.” I looked over to him. “I didn’t look through the spy hole, just opened the door, and he punched my face. I fell; he either grabbed my hair then, or kicked me. I can’t think straight right now. He tried to drag me but I managed to get the intercom phone. I calledsecurity.”
“Did he sayanything?”
“He called me a fucking bitch but that was all. We’re going through a divorce right now. He was drunk, I could smellalcohol.”
“Do you think he had any other intent than to punchyou?”
I looked at him for a moment before it dawned on me what he wasasking.
“No, not atall.”
“You said he draggedyou.”
“He pulled my hair and my body moved on the floor, that’s what I call dragging. I doubt he had any idea what he was doing. He’ll wake up tomorrow with a stinking hangover and full ofremorse.”
