"Please, Spencer! Let go of my arm! You're hurting me!" I struggled to escape my boyfriend's grip on my upper arm. This wasn't the first time that he had hurt me, but this time was definitely the worst. My skin was marked with bruises, my lip was bloody, and the scratches up and down my arms and legs were proof of my struggle to escape. Spencer had chased me down the dark streets along Vespucci Beach where our apartment was. It was after midnight and everyone was in bed; there was no one to help me.

This was the night, I thought, that Spencer would finally kill me. I gave up, crumbling to the ground as he berated me. I sobbed when I felt his boot collide with my ribs.

"What the fuck?" Spencer hollered. I looked up in confusion to find him holding his jaw in disbelief. Someone had just hit him. He was middle aged, much taller than Spencer, and covered in scars and cuts. Some of them looked like bullet wounds. He donned a pair of torn up, faded blue jeans, rolled up at the ankles, a pair of worn out work boots, and a dirty white t-shirt. He looked insane; not like someone you would see walking around Los Santos. He cracked his knuckles and pulled a pistol out of his waistband. My heart dropped. I could see the fire in his eyes as he raised the weapon to point it at Spencer's head.

"Listen to me, you fuckin' spineless waste of life! I ever see your face again, I'm gonna rip your fucking intestines out through your throat!" He cracked his neck, not loosening his grip on the gun. He gestured at me with his free hand, and continued shouting, "You think you're a fucking man because you beat the living shit outta this woman? Ain't you got a mother? For fuck's sake, you're lucky I don't put a bullet in your goddamn skull right this second! Now, get the fuck outta here and don't let me see you around her ever again! Don't fuck with me, friend!"

Spencer turned on his heel, taking off down the sidewalk. I looked up timidly at my savior. His expression softened when he met my gaze. He had soft, caramel colored eyes, and dark, thinning hair. He was thin, but muscular; I could see why Spencer had looked so terrified of him.

"You alright, darlin'?" He broke the silence. I bit my bloodied lip, trying to hold back tears. I shook my head. The reality of my situation had set in. I had nowhere to live and no belongings. I had alienated myself from my family; they were all the Vinewood Hills phoney type of people. I had always been the black sheep of the family, so when I moved in with Spencer, I had pretty much separated myself from my family. We hadn't spoken in months, and I'd be damned if I went crawling back to them for help. I had no one, and not a cent to my name.

"Takes a real small man to hit a woman," he muttered, extending a hand to me, helping me to my feet. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Jane," I croaked, wiping the blood away from my mouth.

"My name's Trevor."

"Thank you, Trevor," I whimpered. I sounded so pathetic. "He probably would've killed me if you hadn't shown up."

Trevor shook his head in disgust. "I woulda unloaded this whole fuckin' round into his skull."

Something about the way he said it told me that he wasn't kidding. I gripped the strap of my purse; the only thing I had managed to escape with.

"You got somewhere to stay? I can give you a ride."

I shook my head. "You've done plenty, really. I'll figure something out."

"Something tells me you don't have much to your name," he guessed correctly. "C'mon, I can bring you back to Sandy Shores with me. Good place to clear your mind."

"I can't. I can't ask you to do that. Really."

He let out a frustrated huff and rolled his eyes at me. "You're not asking, I'm offering. Now swallow your pride and get in the damn truck, princess. I ain't leaving ya out on the street alone."

I silently obliged, climbing into the rusted old truck he was pointing at. He hopped into the driver's seat and put the key in the ignition. My parents had always told me not to get in the car with a stranger. But my alternative wasn't much better. Maybe going all the way out to Blaine County would be a nice break from the mess my life had become.

"So what happened there?" Trevor whipped down the highway, switching between lanes frequently.

"He thought I was cheating on him. I wasn't, for the record. But this wasn't the first time he's done this. This was just the worst."

He shook his head in disgust, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.

"He's an ugly fuckin' mistake of a man. I don't know you much, but any man who has that little respect for women doesn't deserve a pretty little thing like you."

My face turned red and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I didn't know what to say.

"Oh, don't get all stressed out, I ain't gonna touch ya or anything."

I smiled to myself. I hardly knew this man, but I trusted him. If he had wanted to kill me, he could've done it already; no one would have even noticed I was gone.

"Hey, Trevor," I began, "Do you mind if I just rest for a while? I'm exhausted."

He nodded back at me, glancing in my direction. "You don't gotta ask me for permission, darlin'. Go ahead; I'll wake you up when we get there."


"Jesus, you're covered in cuts and scratches."

"Thanks, I hadn't noticed," I joked. Trevor pulled a plastic box down from the top of his fridge, and sat down next to me on the old, beat up looking couch in his place.

"Lemme fix ya up and then you can get to sleep." I watched as he soaked a cotton ball in rubbing alcohol and ran it along the abrasions on my skin. Though his hands were rough and calloused, his touch was surprisingly gentle as he bandaged me up. He seemed almost nervous when he scooted closer to me to clean the blood from my lower lip.

His eyes were soft, and relaxed; nothing like the man I had seen earlier that night, gripping a pistol and shooting off profanities. He smelled like aftershave and cigarette smoke. I noticed a tattoo along his neckline as I studied him; a dotted line with the words "Cut Here." There must have been a story behind that. He shifted uncomfortably when he realized I was studying his face.

"Thanks for doing this. I would've been sleeping on the street tonight if it weren't for you, Trevor." I smiled sweetly at him as he closed up his first aid kit.

"Listen, I'm just glad I can help. And besides," he leaned in close to me, "I'm not in any place to complain about a gorgeous lady sleepin' in my bed." I cleared my throat awkwardly. "Hey, hey," he spat out quickly, "I'm just playin' around. You can have my bed; I'll sleep on the couch."

I breathed a sigh of relief. I would've been happy sleeping on the floor. I was just thankful to have a roof over my head.

"But I wasn't kidding about that last part. You could be in movies with a face like that."

"Thank you," I said softly. "Do you get lonely here?" I blurted out My voice was timid and quiet. I realized immediately after saying it how rude I sounded. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that." Trevor stopped for a moment, and looked through me, as if he were deep in thought.

"Sometimes. Other times, the neighbor Ron won't leave me the fuck alone."

I chuckled at his comment. My laugh was hollow and insincere. I was lost in my thoughts.

"I'm so lonely. I've been lonely for so long." Without warning, my eyes welled up with tears, and I felt a sharp pang of embarrassment. Here I was, sitting on a man's couch who I had just met earlier that night, and I was crying in front of him. I was crying, and I couldn't stop myself. "I'm so lonely. I have nobody, now. I've never felt so lost," I sobbed.

Trevor hesitated slightly before gently patting my thigh. "Hey, kiddo, lemme tell ya something. I got no one. Not really; not when it comes down to it. I know how ya feel."

"You never got married or anything?" I asked, wondering if I was prying too much. Trevor laughed sarcastically at my question.

"Do I look like marriage material to you? I'm a goddamn wreck, sweetheart. No one wants to shack up with the town maniac."

I wondered what he was talking about. From what I'd seen of him, he seemed thoughtful and fairly level-headed; a bit rough around the edges, maybe, but easy to get along with. I shrugged, wiping away the tears that had run down my cheeks.

"I think someone would want to be with you. I mean, hey, you saved me tonight and you've given me somewhere to sleep, something to wear, and-" I paused, wondering if I should finish my statement, "I have a new friend."

Trevor raised his eyebrows at me in surprise, a small smile creeping across his face. "Ah, is that so? We're friends now?"

I smiled shyly and nodded at him. He looked at me intently, as if he were carefully and slowly studying my facial features.

"Well," he snapped out of the trance-like state he had been in, "Are ya hungry? Can I make you something to eat? Or I could go out and get something. I'm not much of a cook."

"That's okay, thank you. I'm not really hungry. I'm just tired. I'd just like to go to sleep if that's alright."

"Yeah, of course," he stood up from the sofa, and gestured at his bedroom. "You can take my bed. I'll sleep out here on the couch."

He led me into his bedroom, which was as messy as the rest of his place. It was small and dimly lit, with an unmade bed against the back wall and a broken TV on a dresser against the front wall. Clothes were strewn across the room and there were beer bottles all over the floor.

"Hopefully the bed is comfortable enough for you." He stood awkwardly in the doorway, and I suddenly felt shy again as I climbed into his bed.

"Thank you, Trevor. For everything. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't come along."

He nodded at me, and sat down at the end of the bed. "It's gonna get better, ya know. It might get a lot more shitty first, but it's gonna get better."

I took his hand in mine as he stood up to leave the room. "Can you stay? And sleep in here with me?" I felt silly making such an inappropriate request. He cocked an eyebrow at me in confusion. "I just... I don't want to be alone."

He moved back into the room slowly, and climbed under the covers with me without saying a word, and turned onto his side, facing away from me. He hadn't bothered to turn off the light, but I was too tired to care. I laid beside him, looking at the ceiling. Within minutes, he was already asleep, quietly snoring. I turned away from him and shuffled backwards towards him so that my back was touching his. He was warm and his presence made me feel safe. Maybe I would stay in Sandy Shores for a while.