CHAPTER 3
8 months ago
I was startled awake from my sleep when I heard the front door to my apartment open.
James.
It had been precisely two weeks since I last saw him. I removed the blanket from me and went downstairs to meet him. My heart was thundering hard in my chest wondering what mood he would be in today.
When I reached the foot of the stairs, I stopped dead at the scene in front of me.
James was leaning on the door with a hand to his injured right knee which was bleeding. His face was busted up with a cut at his lip and a black eye. His short blond hair was a mess with dirt and sweat sticking them to his forehead. He looked awful.
I ran towards him and asked, "Jamie! What happened? Who did this to you?"
"It's nothing." He grunted in a painful voice. "Just got in a bar fight, that's all."
"I should get you to a hospital. Wait here, I'll take my car out of the garage and –
"No hospital!" he exclaimed.
"You need to go to a hospital, Jamie! Look at you. You need help." I insisted.
He turned his angry eyes to me and said in a scary low voice, "I said no hospital. Do you get me?"
I swallowed hard. He was using the same voice he used right before his incessant beating began. I felt a tremor run through my veins even though I knew he was in no condition to hurt me right then.
"I got you." I whispered.
I took him to our room and treated his injuries as best as my inexperienced hands and little medical knowledge could. I was returning with a hot bowl of soup to feed him when I heard him talking to someone on his phone.
"I want you to take care of him. Yes, do it tonight. No, don't care about the witnesses. Nobody would give a shit if that son of a bitch disappeared. Don't worry about it, I know I'll owe you and I'll pay you back. You can trust me. Yeah, later."
I felt myself shaking from head to toe.
Take care of him? Witnesses? What the hell was he on about?
James saw me in the doorway and asked, "What the hell are you looking at me like that for?"
With unsteady steps I entered the room and kept the bowl on the nearby table. Then I sat on the bed near James and began in a tender voice, "Jamie, what were you talking about on the phone? You said it was just a bar fight. Why were you talking about witnesses and what not?"
His eyes flashed dangerously and he leaned forward. Automatically, my arms went up in an attempt to shield myself from the impending blows, preparing myself for the worse. When they didn't come soon enough, I opened my eyes dubiously. I saw James staring at the bowl of soup that I made for him sitting on the table. Then his eyes came back to me. His eyes lost a little of their intensity and he sighed.
"It's nothing, baby. I wasn't intending to do him permanent harm. I just wanted to teach a lesson to the person who did this to me, you understand?" he replied, talking to me like I was a child.
"James, let's just tell the police about it and let them do their work. They'll catch him and he'll probably learn his lesson the right way. Please, please don't do something that might make the police come after you. It was just a bar fight. He was probably drunk. Not that it excuses his behavior, but asking someone to rough him up just to get revenge seems pointless." I tried to convince him.
James stared at me for a while before putting his hand around my neck and giving me a gentle kiss on the forehead. This was a side of him that he very rarely showed now-a-days.
"Alright, honey. I'll ask my friend to not go through with it. Okay?"
I nodded, relieved.
"Now feed me that delicious smelling soup, will you?"
I smiled a small smile and picked up the bowl.
And stupidly, stupidly, stupidly believed him…