CHAPTER SIX #4
"Or what?" I challenged, staring him down despite the fear bubbling up inside me. "You gon’ hit me again? Like you do whenever shit don’t go your way?"
Something dark flickered in Jamie's eyes. "You keep talking slick, you must want me to beat yo’ ass?"
"Nah I don’t, all I want is for you to grow the fuck up and be a fucking man instead of acting like a drunk-ass child," I hissed, shoving his chest to create some distance between us.
I guess that was the wrong move, because without warning his open palm connected with my face so hard my ears rang. The force sent me stumbling backward onto the couch, but he wasn't done. He then grabbed a fistful of my locs, yanking my head back.
"You ungrateful ass bitch," he snarled. "After everything I sacrificed for you. You think you too good for me now? You think you can disrespect me and talk to me like I ain’t shit? Maybe I need to fuck some sense into yo’ dumb ass,” I tried to twist away, but he had me pinned now, one hand still gripping my hair while the other fumbled with his belt buckle.
"Jamie, stop!" I gasped, panic rising. "Stop!!!”
"Since when you got a say when it comes to my pussy?" he growled, trying to force his knee between my legs. "You my baby mama. You know who this shit belongs too."
A sob tore from my throat as I fought against him, scratching, kicking, doing anything to break his hold.
"Get the fuck off me!" Something inside Jamie snapped at my resistance.
The hand in my hair released only to ball into a fist that crashed into my ribs, knocking the wind from my lungs.
Before I could recover, another blow caught my cheekbone, then another to my shoulder as I tried to curl into a protective ball.
This wasn't our first fight, Jamie had put his hands on me before, especially when he was drinking but never like this. Never with this wild, uncontrolled rage that felt like it might not stop until I stopped moving.
"You think you leaving me? Huh?" Each question was punctuated with another blow. "Yo’ bitch ass brother gotchu’ thinking you too good for me now? You ain't shit without me, Bitch! You hear me? You ain't SHIT!"
Survival instinct kicked in. When he paused to catch his breath, I bucked upward with all my strength, catching him off guard enough to shove him sideways off the couch. He hit the coffee table, sending empty beer bottles crashing to the floor.
I was on my feet and running before he could recover, ignoring the pain screaming through my body. My keys, my phone, my purse, I left it all behind as I bolted for the front door in just my leggings and oversized t-shirt.
"ZURIE!" Jamie's roar followed me as I sprinted down the porch stairs. "You bet not fucking leave! YOU HEAR ME?"
Behind me, I heard Jamie's heavy footsteps staggering after me.
The night air hit my tear-streaked face as I ran barefoot and disoriented. I always knew how to run fast, I ran track in high school, so I dust Jamie’s ass without a second thought. He fast wasn’t fast enough to keep up with me.
I turned right without thinking, running toward McDonald’s on the corner. It was the only spot I could think of in our neighborhood where I might find people, witnesses, or even fucking safety.
The cold concrete tore at my feet, but the pain barely registered through my adrenaline. My left eye was already swelling shut, and I could taste blood where my lip had split. Three blocks never felt so long before.
The McDonald's fluorescent lighting hit me like a spotlight when I finally stumbled through the doors.
The place was nearly empty—just a few late-night stragglers and two bored-looking employees behind the counter.
I must've looked a mess because conversations stopped mid-sentence as all eyes turned to me.
"Help," I managed to croak out before my legs gave way and I collapsed against the nearest table.
"Yo, somebody call an ambulance!" a voice shouted from somewhere behind the counter.
I tried to steady myself, but the room was now spinning, shock setting in as the adrenaline began to wear off. Through my one good eye, I saw a figure approaching. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with skin the color of caramel and he was wearing black-rimmed eye glasses that sat perched on his nose.
"You alright, ma?" His voice was deep, smooth like aged whiskey. He moved with the confident grace of someone who'd navigated dangerous situations before and lived to tell about it. "You need some help?"
I flinched away when he reached toward me, the memory of Jamie's hands still too fresh. "Don't touch me!"
The man stopped immediately, raising both palms, taking a step back. "Okay, I gotchu’. No touching." His eyes, that were dark and perceptive behind his black-rimmed glasses, took in my swollen face, the blood on my lip, and my bare feet.
"But whoever did this to you might still be looking for you, feel me? You can't stay here."
"He's gon’ come looking," I whispered, glancing fearfully at the door. "He's gonna find me."