Author Note: Just want to say thank you for all the great, blush-making comments. They make me write faster, I swear.
He's gripping my arm just above the elbow, his fingers digging into my muscles hard enough to hurt, but not quite enough to bruise.
The cab pulls away behind us. We walk up the street in silence. The ground shines with new rain, slowed now to a gentle falling mist, caught in the yellow streetlights. There are no trees here, but I've seen them in the park, starting to wake up; tiny, pale green buds –
Jake's fingers grind into my arm. Always seems he can tell if I'm daydreaming.
We reach the steps of the little apartment block. He's pulling me along too fast; my heels slip on the rough, wet stones and I land on my knees.
He let's go and stands on the step above me. 'Get up.'
My knees hurt. I've skinned them, like I always used to do when I was a kid. It's a familiar pain, almost comforting.
His slap knocks the memory away.
I start to get up. 'Not here,' I say.
This time it's a fist, catching me high up on the cheekbone. Half in a crouch, I lose my balance and fall back, landing on the street. He begins the tirade that should have started inside; I'm a whore, a cheap, dirty whore, letting other men look at me when I'm his, I'm his, and do I really think I can get another man? Do I really think I deserve another man? Do I really think I'm better than him?
I don't know what to do. If we were inside I would shut up and stay down.
I sit up, legs tucked under me. Bare legs. Short skirt like he wanted. But scraped knees, now. Like a kid.
I should be listening to him, for the moments where I have to make the right responses. But all I can think about is my sister, Jen, in her little country house upstate. I bet it's nice and quiet there. I picture her sitting at a kitchen table with early morning sunshine covering everything and all the trees and flowers outside beginning to bloom.
A sob rips through me. It'll make him angrier. Like with my Dad. He hated it when we cried.
Oh, Jen. I miss her so badly. So badly I can't stop crying, even when Jake comes down the steps and orders me to stop. Even when he slaps me again and orders me to stop, stop it right now.
I want Jen to stride up and make everything better. But I know what she'd see.
A handsome man with cruelness stamped all through him if you looked close enough. And a cheap, dirty whore sprawled on the ground at his feet, with all the marks covered by make up.
Make your bed and lie in it, she'd probably say. I've told you to leave New York.
But I'm the screw up.
He kicks me in the stomach, one of his favourite places, and then again when I curl up on my side.
I should feel ashamed. There's probably someone out here watching. But everyone in the apartment block knows anyway. No one really cares. I hear the same pattern of placating, pleading, beating from behind other doors. So my beating is a little more public – it doesn't matter. This is who I am now.
Someone is watching. I can see a glint of eyes from an alley. It's a guy all covered in one of them long coats that reminds me of the flashers who lurk around in the park. He's probably enjoying this.
The guy steps out from the shadows. Got a hat on too, reminds me of Dirk Bogart. Jake doesn't notice him, until the guy grabs his shoulder, spins him round, and punches him in the face.
Jake screams and brings his hands up. Blood pours between them. Broken nose.
He curses and lunges at the man, who side steps him so easily it's almost funny. He lands a punch again, this time a sharp jab to Jake's jaw.
'What the – ?' Jake pants out. 'Who the hell are you?'
The guy gets him in the stomach. I don't watch the rest. I should love seeing this, but I just feel tired.
I'm sitting on the bottom step when Jake runs. He staggers past me, not even stopping to call me a bitch or a whore.
The guy stands off to one side, near the alley, but doesn't leave. Just stands there watching me. I wonder what he's going to say. What's a nice girl like me doing with a guy like him, maybe. Then he'll expect something in return.
I wipe my eyes, leaving streaks of mascara along my hands. It reminds me of being ten and playing with Jen's make up. I made a mess of it, but when she saw she didn't get mad. She laughed and called me her little panda.
I hear the guy muttering something – it sounds like 'Shouldn't have done that.' I'm not sure if he's referring to Jake, or his own actions. I realise that Jake will come back, at some point, and I'll probably end up in hospital, if I'm lucky. But I don't want to make this guy feel guilty.
'Thanks,' I say. When I stand up a terrible pain rips through my side and I double over, gasping for breath. With my eyes squeezed shut I don't see him move, but I'm aware of him standing over me. He puts a hand on my shoulder and tells me to be careful. I shrug the hand away. I don't like strangers touching me. When I open my eyes he's still there.
His silence makes me nervous.
'So.' I wrap my arms around my legs and offer a shaky, swollen smile. 'Aren't you going to say I'm better off without him? Aren't you going to ask to come up?' Tears are leaking out of the corners of my eyes again.
'No.' He sticks his hands in his pockets. 'But he shouldn't have done that.'
'Maybe I deserved it.'
I get the sense that he wants to shout something at me, and just manages to bite it back. He waves his hands in an impatient gesture and for a moment I think he's going to leave.
'Want me to help you upstairs?'
'No.'
'Look,' he says. 'I don't want nothing.'
'So go.' I rest my head on my knees and close my eyes. His voice is too loud. Why can't I be around people with soft voices?
'Will he come back?'
Jake, he means. 'Yeah.'
More muttering. Then, 'Got someplace you can go?'
I think of saying something like 'Who says I want to go?' But I'm cold and hurt all over. I can't be bothered to lie anymore.
'Got a sister. But I can't ask her.'
'Why not?'
'She'd say it was my own fault.' I open my eyes. I can barely see him; he's backed away into the shadows again. 'She's always right. I don't want to go to her just so she can lecture me.'
'Sounds familiar,' he says with a slight laugh. 'I got this brother – ' He stops. 'Sometimes . . .' He paces. 'Sometimes people say things and we think they're trying to . . . to lecture us 'cause they like it, you know? But it's because they don't want us hurt.' He kicks at something I can't see in the dark. 'Don't make it any easier to listen to, though.'
I think about Jen. In my mind, over the years, she's become cruel and petty, the type of person who would throw my words back in my face and turn me away. How could I think that, when all she ever did was try and protect me?
He's starting to walk away.
'Hey!' I call after him. 'Thanks!'
He raises a hand in a brief wave and turns into an alley.
It takes me awhile to climb the stairs to my apartment, but at least it gives me time to decide what to do. I've got some money, enough for a night at a motel. And I've got a sister who cares about me, even if I refused to see it. I know it's late, but I'll call her. She'll help me. I'll stay at her house, where I bet it's nice and quiet and the trees are just waking up.
As I open my front door I know that even before I ask her for help, I'm going to say, I missed you, Jen. I love you.
