Chapter 10 #2
The hand once gripping my arm, shooting pain through it, is gone and I stare at Hush who has my attacker’s arm twisted behind his back. His expression fierce and eyes deadly. The once blank emotion now a swirl of darkness.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hush asks, in such a dead, monotone voice. But God, there’s something in the way he speaks that can frighten the most dangerous person on earth.
The pulsing in his neck beats over the top of his sweatshirt as the guy struggles against the weight of Hush’s grip. The bat tightens against his throat restricting the asshole from speaking.
With Hush’s comforting presence next to me, I find my words. “He’s just another piece of scum who deserves whatever’s coming to him.”
Hush eyes me from the effortless hold he has on the guy and for the first time, he really looks at me, studying me. Can’t say I blame him for being curious. My sudden outburst was a shock to me too. Hatred drips out of me for people like this. For men like him. “Little Rabbit.”
Hush looks away, the darkness that disappeared for only half a minute invades those piercing eyes of his once more.
He releases the bat, and the man’s body falls to the ground as he gasps for air he had lost. His lungs begging for life.
But as I stare down at him while he struggles to breathe, a ghost of a smile spreads across my face.
I glance up at Hush, who’s already looking at me in a way that’s questionable. We hold each other’s gazes before turning back to the guy who is now trying to find the strength to stand.
Hush crouches down and leans close whispering something. The man’s eyes grow wide with fear.
My brows furrow, wondering what the words were. But the man swallows and scurries away, almost tripping on his feet as he hurries down the sidewalk away from us. Never looking back.
Hush gathers his bat into his hand, tucking it securely into the strap of his slim black cargo like jeans. It isn’t the first time I’ve seen him carry it with him.
If Hush wasn’t here—if he hadn’t shown up… wait. Why is he here?
“Are you following me?”
His attention isn’t on me, but on the cigarette, he pulls out of his pocket. He dips his head down slightly cupping his hand over the stick to light it. As he exhales, a cloud of smoke quickly evaporates into the cold.
He shoots a quick glance at the yellow caution tape still surrounding the area where the earlier dead body laid. And then it hit me.
Oh.
Still didn’t explain the first time I saw him following me. But we can address that later.
“I don’t need a bodyguard.” The words sound harsh, more than I had intended them to be. But with everything, anger boils inside me.
After only one puff, he smashes the ends of his cigarette into the same ashtray as before. My body tense as he makes his way back over to me and my neck strains as I have to look up.
“If they come back, you shouldn’t be alone.”
I’m lost in him. He’s always so closed off, not that we’ve had a lot of chances to conversate in a normal setting.
“I can take care of myself.” But as the words are said, another burst of something hits me. The thing is, I can’t take care of myself.
“You’re angry.”
The weight on my shoulders finally sags. “Yes, I’m angry. Actually, I’m furious. But it’s not because you’re following me. It’s because I can’t protect myself.”
His gaze seeps into mine. “Why?”
“Because!” My voice grows loud as I scan the outside. At least no one is around to witness all of this.
Just say it. Let it out, Danika.
“Because I haven’t been able to be myself. To speak for myself. To stand up for myself since…” I want to vomit. The bile rising and burning in my chest. “Since the attacks. The repeated rapes.”
If it weren’t for the blanketing of snow, I swear you could hear the quick gasp I let out. I’m being incredibly bold with him.
I missed when Hush avoided my stare because now when he looks at me, I’m not sure how to respond. It’s so intense my body grows hot with every second his gaze is locked with mine.
“And stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like… I’m crazy. Or… I don’t know. It makes me uncomfortable.”
“I’m sorry.” He looks away, focusing on the buildings, my building, across the street. “I don’t think you’re crazy,” he says, the quiet in his voice resembles a whisper every time he speaks.
I sigh, rubbing the spot where the guy held me. “I just miss who I used to be.” I plant myself against the building a few feet back from him, but he shuffles backward, until he’s next to me.
“And who is that?”
Diving into my head, I try to recall her. Who I was. I’d say she was more confident. More sure of herself. Or maybe I was never her to begin with. “Honestly, I don’t even know.”
“How can you miss someone you don’t know?”
I turn my head, his sharp profile in view. Up close, this man is even more exquisite. “I’m just not a fan of who I’ve been become.”
“Then change.” His sternness catches me off guard. As if he’s talking about someone other than me. To someone. The harsh stressed lines at the corners of his eyes are telling.
I want to change. I do. To erase all the negativity within. It swirls and swirls but never escapes.
I pay him another glance. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
His body stiffens and his shoulders grow harder than they naturally are. He walks a few steps out of reach. “He won’t be bothering you again.”
A calmness sets over me. “Thank you.” I am thankful he stepped in. Honestly, this is the most I’ve spoken about my inner battle in trying to find myself. Sure, me and Tequila reminisce about the trauma but never like this.
Saying it aloud makes it real. And making it real is admitting it exists.
He hangs back, waiting.
“You don’t have to stay. I just live across the—”
“I know where you live.”
So, he was following me before.
As I cross the non-busy street to my building door, I cast a glance over my shoulder. His harsh, yet soft eyes watch me back.
Tearing away, I head up to my apartment, and inside. Then I quickly peer out my window, but he’s already gone.