Hannah
I watch as Dean’s back slips out of the door and disappears from view.
It’s odd, the things you notice in the middle of trauma.
Like the world has skidded to a stop. I smell Mallory’s perfume, once bright and happy now tinged with the metallic tang of blood.
The music from outside the restroom that was once cheerful and energetic now pounds recklessly along with my racing heart.
A woman kneels down in front of Mallory and me, her name tag clipped tightly along her shirt pocket engraved with the name Donna .
“Honey…” Her calm and reassuring voice snaps me from my spiraling thoughts.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Judging from the gray in her hair, this isn’t the first time she’s used that motherly voice.
Tugging Mallory closer, I watch as she wrings her hands in her lap, twisting her rings around her fingers.
“It’s ok, baby. You’re safe, I just want to make sure you get taken care of.
” Donna reaches out and puts a hand over Mallory’s, stilling the restlessness underneath.
On a shaky exhale, Mallory begins. “I-I came in here. Another girl was washing her hands and left the bathroom before I went into the stall.” When her voice cracks, I squeeze her shoulder, letting her know I’ve got her.
“When I came out, one of the men I’d seen in the hallway was standing against the sink.
” She motions towards the sink I’d just washed my hands in.
My insides spin and I feel nauseous. I try to push away the images of what happened to my friend just a few minutes ago in the very place I’m sitting.
I watch Mallory for a moment, expecting her to describe the man she pointed to before Dean and Kasey left, but she doesn’t.
“I thought he was in the wrong bathroom, but he didn’t leave.
He pushed me up against the wall and told me to get on my knees.
” A sob escapes her and she buries her head in her hands.
I notice for the first time that her nails are chipped and bloody.
“I-I can’t.” Shaking her head, she slumps into me and cries into her hands.
“That’s alright, dear.” Donna pulls Mallory’s hands from her face and looks her in the eyes, kindness and understanding clear within them.
“I can tell by the state of those pretty nails, you did a number on him. And I’m proud of you.
” Mallory hiccups again, but doesn’t pull away.
“Don’t wash those hands, I know how badly you want to, but they’ll need to take some swabs from under your nails.
” She goes to stand, but I reach out and grab her wrist.
“They?” I ask, standing and pulling Donna to the side.
She looks between Mallory and me. “The police and paramedics are on their way. We’ll pull the camera footage of the hallway to see if she can identify the man.”
“What if she doesn’t want to talk to anyone about this?” I hiss under my breath, stepping in front of Mallory, shielding her from our conversation.
“That’s her choice, but I’d like to make sure whoever it was is held responsible.”
I open my mouth to argue, but Mallory cuts me off, still sitting on the floor but looking more alert. “I’ll do it.” Nodding her head in agreement, she says, “I don’t want him to get away with it. Don’t want him to hurt anyone else.”
“Good girl.” Donna nods her head, gives my shoulders a kind squeeze, then exits the bathroom. Not long after, I hear the music die down and footsteps exiting the bar.
“Mallory, I’m so sorry!” I slide in front of her. “I should have come with you.” Tears sting my eyes at the thought of her being in here alone and terrified.
“So you could have been raped, too?” she scoffs. I didn’t need her to go into detail about what happened, but just hearing her admit it has the alcohol from earlier burning my throat on its way up.
“I’m so sorry!” I sob, pulling her into me.
I watch from a distance, leaning up against the wall outside the bar as Mallory is loaded into the ambulance, covered and hooked up to an IV.
When the paramedics stepped into the bathroom, they handled her gently, speaking to her softly and placing a blanket over her before taking her outside.
A few police officers stand outside the back doors, asking her questions as she gets ready to be transferred to the hospital in town.
Despite the warm summer night, I shiver, not able to shake the feeling that no matter where we go as women, there is always the lingering feeling that we’re unsafe.
I pull my phone out to call Dean, wanting nothing more than to have his arms wrapped around me.
The peace I feel between them is unparalleled, and I need him.
“Fuck,” I say under my breath, realizing that even though we’ve been sleeping together we’ve never exchanged numbers. Not wanting to be left here alone, or send Mallory away by herself, I push off the wall and make my way across the lot to the ambulance.
“Can I go with her?” I ask when I reach the open doors.
Mallory gives me a small nod. The moment my boot lands on the bummer to step inside, large hands grip my waist and pull me back.
I let out a scream, reaching for Mallory.
Surely that guy wouldn’t try anything now, not when there are cops around.
I swing my arm back, connecting with a solid stomach.
The man gives a grunt then pulls me closer against him.
“Calm down, darlin’. It’s just me.” Dean’s mouth is against my ear and I instantly freeze.
When my boots hit the ground, his arms loosen, but continue their relentless hold against his chest. It’s then that I notice Kasey running up from beside us, not even stopping as he hops inside the ambulance and rushes towards Mallory.
The paramedics look between me and Kasey.
I give them a tight smile and dip my chin, then watch them close the doors and drive off.
We stand there, Dean’s strong arms holding me, my head resting on his chest. The dust settles around us, and it’s not until that moment that I break my rule and let the tears fall.
“Oh my God, Dean,” I sob, turning and pushing into his chest. My knees buckle, but before I can hit the ground, Dean lifts me into his arms. I barely register that he’s walking somewhere through the wave of emotion that is rolling through me.
“I got you, baby,” he says before I hear his truck unlock.
Opening the back door, he lifts us both into the back seat, still holding me in his lap.
His thick fingers work through my hair, one hand rubbing across my back.
I realize now in this moment of complete hell, that what we have between us may be deeper than I’m willing to admit to.
And I couldn’t be more grateful to have him holding me while the emotions pull me under.
We sit in silence for a long time, so long that the cop lights disappear and the neon sign above BuckWild turns black.
My body aches and my eyes burn from crying so hard.
I reach down and intertwine my fingers with his.
When his body tenses and he lets out a sharp exhale at the contact, I look down to where our hands meet and let out a gasp.
His knuckles are split wide open, dried blood caked across his inked hand.
Quickly, I grab his other hand, turning it over in my own.
“Dean…” I whisper, looking up into his eyes.
His eyes have always reminded me of a summer storm.
They’ve reminded me of home. But tonight, those eyes are so dark they look like the kind of storm you run away from out of fear instead of running into looking for a dance in the rain.
Spinning, I straddle him, running my fingers along his face, taking inventory of the damage.
His lip is split along with a decent gash under his left eye.
He looks like he not only dealt a heavy beating, but may have taken a few hits himself.
He breaks away first, running a hand through his hair, damp with sweat.
“I rented a house for the night, only a few miles away. Stay with me.” His voice is distant and cold. But I find reassurance that he’s still asking me to stay with him. No, not asking. Requesting. Demanding.
“Tell me what happened.” When those eyes hit mine, I shiver with a new sense of fear.
I hardly know this man, but can’t seem to walk away.
I want to know what happened, what he did when he left that bathroom.
I’m equally terrified that if he tells me I won’t have a choice, I’ll fall and I know it.
Any man that stands up for a woman, regardless if he knows her or not, is a man I want by my side.
“At the house.”
“Queen’s in the trailer,” I say quietly, trying to pull my gaze away from him, but failing.