49 Francesca
Jamie finished patching the holes in record time and with much better results than me. Now he’s in the bathroom, rinsing brushes while I pick up in the living room when it happens.
My ponytail is yanked hard, snapping my head back. I lose my footing and hit the ground, my shoulder slamming into the coffee table. I cry out, but the sound cuts off as the air is knocked from my lungs.
“Hey there,” a haunting, familiar voice says. “Miss me?”
He looks older- hollowed out. Deep in the throes of whatever drug he’s on. If he weren’t here, attacking me again, I might not recognize him. Might feel some pity for this man, ravaged by addiction.
Instead, all I feel is rage.
“Fuck you, Gary,” I wheeze. “Get out.”
He crouches and grabs my face, fingers digging painfully into my cheeks.
“Fuck you, you little whore,” he sneers.
“What do you want?” I manage.
“Money,” he says with a grin. His breath is foul and I immediately feel a wave of nausea. But it’s interesting, I don’t feel fear. Not really. Not like I used to anyway. Even like this, when he’s hurting me, he’s lost his control over me.
I shake my head, just barely. “You won’t get a cent. From any of us. You don’t have any power anymore.”
“You’ll get me what I want- ”
Then I hear it.
An almost inhuman sound and Gary is gone. Ripped off me.
Jamie’s on him, hauling him up by the collar and throwing him backward into the wall hard. A small, irrational portion of my brain curses that they are messing the fresh paint up.
Gary stumbles, tries to swing, but Jamie is already there again, terrifying and massive.
“You don’t touch her,” Jamie snarls. “You don’t ever touch her again,” he says, landing punches to Gary’s stomach.
Gary shoves him hard, catching Jamie off-balance just enough to break free. He bolts for the front door.
“Jamie- !” I scream, scrambling to my feet, pain flaring through my shoulder.
Jamie tears after him. The front door slams open and sunlight explodes into the room. I chase after them onto the porch just in time to see Gary trip on the top step. He barely catches himself before sprinting into the yard.
Jamie tackles him from behind.
They hit the grass hard, rolling, fists flying. Jamie is yelling- pure, raw sound- while Gary is cursing, clawing, trying to get free. Jamie lands a punch that snaps Gary’s head sideways.
Others come out of their houses, watching the chaos. I don’t know how to stop it, how to intervene and am desperately looking for someone to help. Jamie’s going to kill him if someone doesn’t stop this.
I rush off the porch and get as close to Jamie as I can without actually getting in the melee. The last thing I want is for Jamie to accidentally hurt me- he’d never forgive himself.
“Jamie- stop. I’m okay. Jamie!” He isn’t hearing me at all.
The sound of sirens cuts through the air and I look up.
Someone across the street is shouting. A door slams.
“Jamie!” I scream again, panic crashing into me. “Stop- please!”
Red and blue lights wash over the yard.
“Police! Freeze! Now!”
Hands grab Jamie, yanking him off Gary. He fights them at first- instinct probably- but then he stops.
“He hurt her,” Jamie spits out, “he fucking hurt her again-”
Gary is already being hauled upright, blood running from his mouth and nose, eyes wild and glassy.
“She attacked me,” Gary slurs. “They both did.”
I move forward, needing to stop Gary from spreading his lies, but a third officer steps up to me, holding a hand up gently but firmly. “Ma’am, stay right there.”
Jamie twists around, searching for me, panic flooding his face. An officer is holding his arms behind him at an unnatural angle.
“Frankie-”
“I’m fine,” I say to him, then I turn to the nearest officer. “He was protecting me.”
They cuff him anyway. Start to pull him towards a patrol car.
“No! He was just defending me!” I cry, starting to go to him. His eyes are still locked on Gary and he’s muttering things I can’t hear.
“Ma’am,” the officer says, holding my arm and keeping me from running after Jamie. “We’ll sort it all out. But right now, they are both coming with us.”
“Frankie,” Jamie calls out as he’s pushed into the back of a car. “Just call Christian.”
Gary is shoved into the other cruiser, still yelling.
The doors slam.
And just like that, they’re both gone.
“Ma’am, I need to take a statement,” an officer says and I stare at him, blinking, unmoving.