Eli15 #3
But then I noticed some of the bruises didn't look right. Their shape was wrong for a handprint. I squinted and leaned in to look closer, but I couldn't make anything out clearly.
I pulled out my phone and switched on the light. The harsh white beam cut through the dark, and I angled it carefully toward his neck.
The marks were worse than I thought. Thicker in some places. Uneven and ugly. I could make out a rough partial impression, but it took a minute to recognise it.
It looked like a ... a belt buckle?
I stared for a second longer, just to be sure. Just to hate it a little more. Then I shut off the light and shoved the phone back into my pocket. The rage didn't spike this time. It sat low in my gut, thick and poisonous. It made my skin crawl.
He used a fucking belt. Who does that to someone they say they care about?
I looked at Rowan again, still pale and silent... And I felt sick. Sick with anger, with the fact that I didn't act sooner. That I didn't see what was going on until it was nearly too late.
I reached out, hesitated for half a second, then carefully slid my hand beneath his. His skin felt cold, but I didn't curl my fingers too tightly. As badly as I wanted to warm him up, I didn't want to hurt him worse or wake him. I just wanted him to know I was there, if he could feel it.
"Should I come back later?"
The voice made me flinch so hard I nearly fell off the bed.
I spun around, heart in my throat and ready to snap back something defensive – only to freeze when I saw who was in the doorway.
It was the officer I’d spotted near the nurses’ station. He had a shoulder braced casually against the doorframe, hands stuffed in his pockets. The neutral expression on his face didn't look hostile. But my stomach still dropped.
Why was an officer here?
My eyes flicked between him and Rowan. No one else knew the situation. No one else knew about Marcus. The hospital must’ve phoned it in, and now they probably thought –
Shit.
I stood up fast, trying not to rattle the bed too much.
My mouth opened, but the words kept getting caught in my throat.
“Look, I didn’t – I wouldn’t – ” I glanced back at Rowan and tried to keep my voice low, but panic crept in anyway.
“Whatever you’re thinking, I didn’t do this to him. You’ve got it wrong – ”
The guy threw up his hand. "Whoa, relax, Eli." His voice was calm but sounded amused. "If I thought you'd beaten the hell out of Rowan, you'd already be in cuffs."
I froze.
He gave me another once-over, then pushed off the frame with a sigh. "Bloody hell. You don't recognise me, do you? Didn't think I changed that much." He tilted his head. "Or is the badge throwing you off?"
My brain stuttered. I stared at him harder this time and tried to figure out why he was acting like he knew me.
Light brown hair that was a little too long and clearly in need of a trim.
Clean-shaven. Looked about my age. Sharp jaw but not built to intimidate.
His uniform fit well. Nothing familiar immediately screamed at me, but there was something about the way he carried himself. Confident and maybe a little cocky.
Then he stepped into the room, and I caught sight of a long white scar along his forearm. Thin, clearly old – but the shape of it made my brain itch.
I remembered a busted bike chain. A stupid teenage dare. Blood smeared on the pavement and way too much laughing for how bad it actually was.
My breath caught. "Charlie?"
His mouth tugged into a crooked grin. "There it is. Knew you weren't that thick."
"You're with the police now?"
“Don’t sound so shocked. I turned out alright.” He kept his voice low as his gaze drifted briefly toward Rowan, then back to me. “Didn’t think I’d run into you two like this, though.”
I didn't, either.
“I caught the call by chance. Figured I’d just be taking another random domestic. When I walked in and saw you passed out in the waiting room, I thought I'd had one too many late nights.”
I swallowed hard and sat back down slowly.
There was a brief pause before he asked, more serious now, "So what the hell happened?"
I didn't know how much to tell him. I had no real proof – just bruises, gut instinct, and the way Rowan flinched at me earlier today. I couldn't exactly pin this on Marcus. Not yet.
Finally, I just said, "I went around to check on him and found him like this in his flat."
Charlie studied me for a second. "You didn't see who did it?"
I shook my head. "No one else was there. Just him."
He watched me for a beat longer with an oddly careful look. Then his voice dropped even quieter. “You’re leaving something out.”
My jaw tightened.
“I get it if you don’t want to accuse anyone. But off the record, what’s your gut telling you?”
I hesitated. It would’ve been easier to lie or just say I didn't know. But Charlie wasn’t a stranger, and right now, I needed to tell someone who wouldn't think I was imagining things.
So I met his eyes and said, “I think his boyfriend got his hands on him.”
He exhaled through his nose, quiet but not surprised. “You know his name?”
“Marcus Carter.”
He glanced toward the bed, then pulled out a small notebook to jot something down. “Alright. That gives me something to use, at least. I need to file a report to cover protocol, but I can't do much more than that.”
I looked at him sharply. “So that’s it?”
“That’s not it,” he said, calmly. “It’s just all I can do right now. I can't arrest someone based on a hunch. Unless he does something else or Rowan talks, my hands are tied."
My throat tightened, but I gave a nod. “Yeah... Okay.”
He tucked the pen and notebook away. “In the meantime, I’ll make sure the staff flags the file. Marcus won't get past the front desk."
“Alright. Thanks.”
Charlie lingered for a moment, then his voice dropped, more thoughtful this time. "You've always looked out for him. Glad to see that hasn't changed."
That caught me off guard more than I wanted to admit. But I didn't say anything.
After a beat, he added, "If things get out of hand, or Rowan decides he's ready to talk, you know where to find me." Then he let himself out without another word.
The door clicked shut behind him, and quiet settled back over the room – save for the steady beep of the heart monitor. I stared at Rowan's bruised face and gripped his hand again.
If he needed time, I'd give him time. If he needed space, I'd figure out how to live with that, too.
But if Marcus came anywhere near him again, I'd break his legs.