What No One Knew
Some statistics on Domestic Violence:
-Every 9 seconds in the US a woman is assaulted or beaten.
-Around the world, at least one in every three women has been beaten, coerced into sex or otherwise abused during her lifetime. Most often, the abuser is a member of her own family.
-Domestic violence is the leading cause of injury to women—more than car accidents, muggings, and rapes combined.
-Studies suggest that up to 10 million children witness some form of domestic violence annually.
-Everyday in the US, more than three women are murdered by their husbands or boyfriends.
-Ninety-two percent of women surveyed listed reducing domestic violence and sexual assault as their top concern.
-Based on reports from 10 countries, between 55 percent and 95 percent of women who had been physically abused by their partners had never contacted non-governmental organizations, shelters, or the police for help.
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Another little idea I had sort of floating around in my head; brought on by the September Author's Challenge contest….another one of those ideas that sprang up and I ran with it. Truly though, I need to be working on some of the fiction that I already have out there. Bad Mel, bad! (smacking my own hand).
I'm not sure if this will be a one-shot or multi-chapter (going by my track record, I smell multi-chapter).
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This was the fourth house she had run to. She hoped she'd finally found a neighbor that was home. Somehow she doubted it; the man who lived here stayed gone a lot…she thought perhaps because of his job, but she wasn't really sure. She hadn't had the chance to really get to know any of her neighbors since moving here nearly three years ago. She knew how pathetic that sounded, but the truth of the matter was she wasn't even allowed to go to the end of the driveway to check the mail without him watching from a window; so the idea of actually speaking to any neighbors was not something that she was ever able to conceive.
She had lost her footing while running a couple times; she supposed that happened when you could only see out of one eye. The thought only crossed her mind because her ankle was beginning to swell.
'Wonderful. I must have twisted it good the last time.'
It didn't help that she kept looking back over her shoulder to see if he was coming after her or not. As she made it just to the end of the driveway of this older gentleman's house, she saw his truck coming around the corner from the side street in the upscale subdivision they lived at. She hobbled desperately onto the man's front porch, banging on the door like her life depended on it. But then again it did.
'Oh God! Please be home! Please, please, please be home.' She beat on that door until her fists hurt, looking back over her shoulder. The only reason she had even thought to come here was that the last time that her husband had bothered to take her out, they had passed by this house and she saw the large SUV with government tags on the back end. That had been a hot day, and the gentleman who lived here had been out in his yard, his garage door was open while he did some light weeding. She filed her knew found knowledge away for later. She never knew when that might come in handy. She had seen the man working in his yard. He was older, although he didn't seem to have a lot of grey in his hair yet. He was taller than her, but then that didn't shock her. She was petite, 5'3 or 5'4; most people were taller than her (if you didn't count the Olsen twins). His face seemed distinguished, yet kind, with a goatee.
He stood from his work and saw the car passing and the young couple in it, as they passed he threw up his hand to wave at them. As usual, the young woman turned her head quickly, the man that was driving waved back stiffly. David Rossi wondered about those two odd birds. They had lived in town for a while now, and he had yet to meet them. David was a social butterfly in most cases and knew almost all of his neighbors that lived close by. But there weren't many people that seemed to know this young couple; and if they did know something, they never told. He just knew they never managed to make to the neighborhood barbecues that were held a few times a year during the summer. If either one of them showed up it was the man. He was sort of stand-offish. And when he was asked where his wife was he always said she wasn't feeling well or that she wasn't comfortable around strangers.
Today, Rossi was in his study working on some notes for a new book he was writing. He had been going along at a decent pace until that infernal knocking at his door started. At first he tried to ignore it. He usually didn't like to be bothered when he was home. He liked the peace and quiet; and after some of the cases they had worked lately, who could blame him.
The knocking wouldn't go away though; if anything it got louder and more urgent. And then he heard the woman's voice screaming for someone to help her.
Rossi grabbed his side-arm from his desk drawer, clipping it to his belt, and stood immediately and ran to his front door, ripping it open.
As soon as he got the door open more than a couple of inches, a small woman burst through it sobbing collapsing into his arms crying out for him to help her.
"He's gonna kill me! Please, don't let him come for me!"
Rossi had barely gotten a decent look at her face but could see that one eye had a blackish/purple bruise and was swollen shut and that there were several other bruises all over her face….some of her finger nails were broken and bleeding from where she must have been fighting the devil himself.
As soon as he was able to take in these few details he reached up and slammed his door shut, locking it.
"Come on, we can go into the living room. He won't be able to see you from there."
The young woman tried to stand up and walk, but her ankle gave way, and she wasn't able to stand. Not even breaking stride, Rossi swung her up into his arms and carried her into his living room, laying her on his sofa, and draping a blanket over her to give her a little security.
"I'll be right back, I'm going to go look and see where he is."
She shot up into a sitting position, full of panic, wincing because her side hurt so badly.
"Don't let him get me! Please!" she reached out a shaky hand and grabbed his arm. Her hand was so tiny.
"He won't make it past me, I promise you that. I'm just going to the window to look out. I won't leave."
She nodded her understanding.
"Just lay here and rest. As soon as I am able to figure out what is going on, I will call an ambulance to come and get you. He drives the red Dodge Ram right?"
The woman only shook her head 'Yes'.
Rossi did as he promised. He went to his front door, looking out of the transom windows that were on the sides to see if he could spot the huge truck rolling down the street. He knew the man would not be able to see directly into the house through the windows, because there were sheers that covered them to help obstruct the view, so Rossi's identity would be covered fairly well, but he stayed back from the window just a bit to be on the safe side.
He took out his cell phone and pretended to be making a call and walking from room to room while he talked just in case the man in the truck happened to stop out in front of the house to stare.
On one of his turn-arounds Rossi saw the truck alright. Walking back into his study and through another door that lead back into the living room that was on the back of the house, where he had placed the woman, he came to sit down in one of his favorite chairs before he acted like he was hanging up the phone and picking up the TV remote. The young woman was still lying on the sofa, terrified to move.
"He's just out front. We will sit here for a few minutes and give him time to go away. I can get you something to drink while we wait."
"He won't leave."
"He will have to leave. I'm a federal agent, if he continues to sit in front of my house I can have him arrested for trespassing. Would you like anything to drink?"
"Yes, please."
"What would you prefer?"
"Just some water will be fine."
Rossi got up and went into the kitchen. As he got a drink for himself and one for the young lady, he also made two ice packs; one for her eye and one for her ankle.
After carrying everything into the living room, he sat the tray on the coffee table and sat on the foot stool that was in front of his chair, scooting it closer to the end of the sofa near her feet.
"Which ankle is the one that hurts?"
She drew up a little scooting away from him.
"I'll be alright. You don't need to…."
"I know you'll be fine. And I do need to. Let me see, which ankle?"
"The left one,' she said quietly as she tried to slip the shoe off, her face scrunching when it hurt to do so.
"Lie back, I can take care of this." Rossi saw that the ankle was swelling quite nicely.
"I think you've sprained it rather well."
"Yeah, I guess so." The woman took a small sip of the ice water she had been offered.
Rossi looked up to see if he could still see out of the window to the street. That damned truck was still out there. He took out his cell phone again, calling the local police department. He let them know he was a federal agent and that there was a strange vehicle that was sitting out front of his private residence and had been for the better part of 15 minutes without moving. He mentioned to them that he was pretty sure that it was a man who had beaten his wife, and that the young woman was currently hiding in his home, and that it would be wise for them to approach in unmarked vehicles without lights and sirens.
After the adrenaline had begun to drain from her body, the young woman started to get drowsy. Rossi was beginning to notice a gash at her forehead. He knew she might have a concussion, and he would need to keep her awake until he could figure out how to get her to the hospital.
"So, little missy, you've never mentioned your name."
The one eye that she could see out of had become droopy with fatigue, but she slowly opened it a little bit.
"Danielle. Danielle Blanchard." Her eye started closing again as she became more and more tired.
"Oh no, you have to stay awake. We have to take you to the hospital."
"Hmmmm."
She began to doze off on him and he began to call Hotch to let him know what was going on as he tried everything he knew to do to keep her awake.
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Post AN: So there's that. Like I said, I smell multi-chapter. But we'll see.