by Tessa Thorne
“The fuck is this?” he asks, as he takes a swig from the bottle of whiskey he’s carrying with him. From the look of things, he's already had half.
“I don’t know!” I say as I shrink back into the couch.
“Open it, bitch!” he whispers. Somehow he sounds more menacing when he isn’t screaming at me.
I slowly pick up and uncrumple the paper. Please, God, give Ethan the strength to stay quiet. Let him do anything he wants to me, just protect my sweet baby boy.
My heart jumps into my throat as I realize what the paper is. It’s the front page of my application for a background check to buy my gun. I look up at him, tears blurring my vision, my mouth working, but no words coming out.
“You going to be a hero, Caitlyn?” he says, bending down so low that I can practically taste the whiskey on his breath. “You’re gonna get a gun and try to kill me?”
“I just want you to leave us alone!” I cry out.
“You don’t get to choose!” he shouts.
My mind is racing, trying to find a way to get out of this. He’s in a worse way than ever before, even back when he beat me badly enough to send me to the hospital. He’s capable of anything right now. I just need to keep him away from Ethan.
“Hey, what’s going on in here?” Relief washes over me as I hear the voice of the old man who’s been staying across the hall from us since we’ve been here.
But that relief quickly disappears as Harry flashes his badge at him. “Official police business. Get back inside your room and shut the fuck up.”
“I’m sorry, Officer,” the man stammers, and I hear his door shut loudly behind him.
“Now, where were we?” Harry turns back to me and the back of his hand smacks into my mouth. I hold in my cry of pain as the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.
He squats down in front of the couch and looks me straight in the eyes. He’s so drunk, I can see his eyes wavering in his sockets, unable to focus.
“Where’s my son?” he asks in a deadly whisper.
“He’s staying with a friend,” I lie, hoping I sound more convincing to him than myself.
“That little girl you’re raising doesn’t have any friends.” He laughs. “Where is he?”
“I’m telling you the truth,” I whimper.
“Here’s what I think of your truth, you whore,” he says as he spits on my cheek, which still stings from his blow.
He laughs as I flinch when he reaches out to touch my head. But instead of a blow, he tries to rub my head soothingly. It somehow feels even worse than if he’d just hit me.
“Where did we go wrong, baby?” he asks, his words deeply slurred. “We used to be good together. Weren’t we?”
I’m too afraid to tell him what I really think. That it was the second worst mistake of my life to go to the prom with him. And that the worst mistake of my life was sleeping with him.
No, that’s not right. Nothing that led to me having Ethan was a mistake. I won’t let him taint that. My biggest mistake was marrying him because my mom wouldn’t have her daughter raise a bastard. I should have just raised Ethan on my own.
As he strokes his hand through my hair, he curls his fingers into a tight fist and lifts me to my feet by my hair.
“Here’s what you’re gonna do, bitch, if you want to live,” he whispers into my ear. “You’re gonna forget any ideas you had about being brave and trying to protect yourself with a gun. You got it?”
“Yes,” I stammer out.
“Good.” He smiles darkly. “Then you’re going to have your lawyer withdraw your divorce, retract every bad thing you’ve said about me to the court, and sign over your share of the company to me.”
He pulls me up closer to his face, arching my neck back. “Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I say, tasting my tears mixed with blood on my lips.
“If you don’t do that in a week, I’m going to find you again, no matter where you try to hide, and then I’ll make you beg me to take you back.” He lets my hair out of his grip and my head drops to the couch.
He slowly stands up, swaying in his inebriated state and stumbles out of the motel room, leaving the door wide open behind him. I struggle to get myself off the couch and lock the door, thankful it’s not torn from its hinges and run into the bedroom.
I crawl down on the floor, grunting out in pain when my dislocated arm hits the floor. I pull the bags out from under the bed until I see my little baby’s terrified eyes, wide open and staring back at me.
“You can come out, baby,” I say, trying to steady my voice and somehow succeeding.
I reach out my good hand toward him and he clings to it tightly with his small fingers. I pull him out from under the bed and as soon as he’s clear, he jumps into my arms and starts crying hot tears on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Mommy,” he says into my shoulder. “I was too scared to call nine-one-one.”
“It’s okay, baby,” I say, rocking with him wrapped tightly in one arm, my other arm dangling loose. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Mommy’s going to make this all better.” I stroke the back of his head. “I will never let him hurt you again.”
I finish typing my final line of code before lunch. The sounds of soft R&B music playing from Jasmin’s phone mixes with the light chatter of the office. There’s a young woman with bright blue hair jumping on a chair in a glass conference room, wildly gesticulating with her hands at her audience. I wonder for a second what they’re talking about in there before my thoughts are pulled back to how I’m going to deal with Harry. The only way I can get that out of my mind is by writing code, but I think I just did all the coding I can manage for the day.
It was almost impossible to leave Ethan at day camp this morning. He cried on the way there and cried when I left him, but I had no choice. I’m determined to never let Harry mistreat me again, and I want that gun for when he comes back.
I wondered if I’d have the courage to pull the trigger if he came after me, but after seeing Ethan’s eyes open wide with terror under that bed, I know I’ll do whatever I need to do when the time comes.
What other choice do I have? Move in with a mafia hitman and hope he doesn’t just rob me blind and toss us out?
I hate the way my body reacts the moment I think about him. My chest flushes, my pulse grows faster, and my mind conjures up images of him taking his shirt off, his giant cock glistening with a drop of precum at its tip, his eyes looking up at mine with his mouth latched onto my clit.
I grab a notepad off my desk and fan myself with it.
“You feeling hot?” Jasmin asks. “Should I ask the super to turn up the AC?”
I look up at her past my monitor and shoot her a smile. “No thanks,” I say, putting the makeshift fan back on the white tabletop. “I’m just having a hot flash, and I don’t want to start another fight on our floor over the temperature.”
“Alright,” Jasmin says with a look on her face that says she wants to ask so much more.
I guess it is unfair that I haven’t even talked about it. She’s the best friend that I have, and my business partner. She’s taken care of Ethan when I've needed it, and offered to let me move in with her. She deserves a better explanation than the one I’ve given her.
I let out a long sigh and look back up at her to find that look still on her face. “Go ahead and ask.”
“What’s with the sling? And the, uh…” She gestures to her lip.
I feel the inside of my busted lip with my tongue. Still stings, but it’s feeling a bit better than last night. At least my face didn’t bruise. I’m not very handy with my concealer, and I don’t think I could have disguised a bruise. My arm still hurts like crazy when I try to move it, which means I’ve been typing all morning with one hand.
Jasmin’s still looking at me, waiting for an answer.
I let out another long sigh before answering. I drop my eyes to my good hand resting on my dull matte black key
board and whisper barely loud enough for her to hear, “Harry found us again.”
Jasmin gasps, raising a hand to cover her mouth. She pushes back her chair and comes around to my side of the table. “Let’s go to a conference room, we need to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I say, still staring at my hand.
“The fuck there isn’t.” She hooks her hand under my good arm and tugs on me. She’s surprisingly strong from the kickboxing she does after work.
I give in to her and let her help me up, and I follow her into one of the small conference rooms. She pulls out a chair for me and closes the door.
“What the hell happened?” she asks before she even sits down.
“What do you think?” I say, bitterness leaking into my voice. “He found us, and he wasn’t happy about it.”
“Is Ethan okay?” she asks.
I recoil from her, hearing an accusation in her voice that isn’t really there. “Of course he is,” I spit out. “You think I’d be here if he was hurt?”
“Sorry,” she says in a soft voice. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
She reaches out across the table and tries to take my hand, but I pull back and drop it to my lap.
“Why didn’t you stay home?” she asks. “You didn’t have to come in to work like this. You should be resting and letting your arm feel better.”
“Don’t tell me what I should be doing!” I snap.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she says, pulling her hand back. “I just don’t like to see you hurting, body or soul.”
I look up at her and find her kind eyes looking at me patiently. She smiles at me softly, and I feel the emotions I’ve been trying to keep down welling up into my face.
“I don’t like to stay in that place,” I say, my voice cracking. “I need to get out of there as much as I can. This is the only safe place I have.”
That’s a lie. I could accept Rocco’s offer. He’d be able to protect me. And if he wanted to rob me, he could have just taken my money when he told me he couldn’t kill Harry. But he didn’t.
“You can stay at my place,” she says, reaching out her hand even farther toward me.
I pull my hand from my lap and let her grip my fingers. It feels nice to have her comforting me. I’d love to stay at her place. She’s got a big apartment in Park Slope. It’s been in her family for years. It’d be the perfect place to stay.
“I really appreciate the offer.” I smile. The sharp pain from the motion reminds me of my busted lip. I take a tissue and wipe the corners of my eyes. “But I can’t take you up on it. Harry knows to check there if he can’t find me again.”
“I don’t care,” she says. “My building has a doorman and if he makes it up there, I’ll kick his ass to next Tuesday.”
She puts up her fists, air boxing to lighten the mood. I can’t help but laugh, but laughing just hurts my whole face.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I know you mean well, but I don’t think you get how dangerous Harry is. He’s a cop. And he’s got a gun. I just can’t put you into the middle of this. I have to fix this myself.”
She wipes the playful smile from her face. “Alright,” she says, squeezing my fingers. “My offer stands whenever you're ready to take me up on it. You don’t have to go through this alone. Even if you aren’t willing to accept my help, you have to have other people in your life who are willing to help you.”
I nod. She has no idea how true what she’s saying is. But she means maybe my family or other friends, and I don’t have that. I don’t hang out with any of my high school friends anymore. When I started dating Harry, I started hanging out with his friends more than my own, and I lost touch with them. They didn’t like Harry or his friends much. And after I filed for divorce from Harry, none of our friends were willing to talk to me anymore.
And my family. Well, there’s just Mom. And she said I might as well be dead to her if I got a divorce. She won’t even answer my phone calls.
The only person I’ve got left is Rocco. Who I must admit is the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, and incredible in bed. Not that we used a bed. But I can’t have Ethan around him. He’s a mafia hitman. That’d be insane.
But as insane as that would be, I’d have given anything for him to have been there when Harry busted in. He could have broken Harry in half with those big arms of his.
No.
The only real option I have left is to go buy that gun and have it ready for the next time Harry comes. I’ll just have to deal with whatever happens after that when the time comes. The only thing that matters is Ethan’s safety.
“You okay?” Jasmin’s voice breaks through my thoughts, and I look back up at her. “I think you were daydreaming.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “Something like that.”
There’s a knock on the door, and I look out the glass wall to see three people from another startup waiting outside.
“They must have signed up for the conference room,” Jasmin says as she stands up. “We should probably go.”
“Yeah. That’s a good idea.” I stand up and follow her out of the room back to our area. I pull on Jasmin’s hand to stop her, and she turns around. “Look,” I say, trying to look like I’m in full control. “I really appreciate what you're trying to do. But I just have to try to fix this on my own.”
“I understand.” She smiles and gives me a light hug, careful not to touch my bad arm. “Just let me know if you change your mind. I’m here for you.”
“Thanks.” I look at the clock. I have to get out of here now if I’m going to make it to the gun store in time to sign the final paperwork. “I have to get going for now. I’ll check my email for your notes on the next module. I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Okay, babe,” she says. “Stay safe.”
I smile back at her as I grab my purse and head out the door. My safety doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is my son.
I’m staring down at the glass counter in the gun store looking at all the pistols. Despite having been married to a cop, I know next to nothing about guns. I didn’t grow up in a gun-owning household, so the only thing I know about them is what I learned from the gun safety pamphlet I picked up when I signed the paperwork for my background check.
I look up at the guy at the counter looking at his computer for my background check. He’s furrowing his brow and rubbing his chin as he slowly clicks through the screens. I wish I could just turn the computer around and go through the prompts myself, but that’s how I always feel whenever anyone’s being slow with a computer. It’s kind of funny to see the reaction on most men’s faces when they realize a woman is way better at using a computer than they are.
I run my fingers over the glass counter as I look at the big pistols. I have my eye on two of them. One’s a big silver revolver with a mean-looking barrel and a wooden grip. The other is a dull black semi-automatic. It looks the same as Harry's service gun.
But there are smaller ones, too. Like this small revolver that could fit into most of my purses. But I don’t know if a gun that small would stop a guy as big as Harry. If I have to shoot him, I want him to drop with a single shot. I’ll handle it the same way Harry always liked to say the cops do it. If you’re shooting, you shoot to kill. A gun isn’t a half measure.
“Well,” the old man behind the counter says, as the printer behind him whirs to life and starts spitting out paper. “I’m afraid your application’s been denied.”
My heart drops into my stomach. I open my mouth to say something, but I’m at a loss for words.
“Good thing is,” he says as he collects the papers together and staples them, “it don’t say it’s illegal for you to try to buy a gun, so no need to call the cops.”
He stamps the top of the page, flips to the last page, and signs the bottom corner before sliding it to me across the glass counter.
“I don’t understand,” I stammer.
“Me neither, sweetheart,” he says. “That’s why I been st
aring at that damn computer for the last half hour. It don’t say why. It just says I can’t sell you a gun.”
“But I don’t have a criminal record. I’ve lived in the state for over six months. I don’t have any mental health problems. Why would I be denied?” I ask, my voice rising in anger.
“Like I said, don’t know,” he says, with a disappointed look on his face.
“There has to be a mistake,” I say, sliding the papers back at him. “Can you try again?”
“I don’t think ya get it, lady,” he says, sliding the papers back in my direction. “This is a gun store. I make money selling guns. I’d love it if I could sell you a gun right now. Hell, I’d sell you three, and a bucket of bullets to boot. But this infernal machine here’s telling me I can’t.”
I press my lips together to keep myself from cursing at him. I breathe in deep, trying to calm myself down. It’s not this guy’s fault. He’s just doing his job. This has to be Harry’s doing. He somehow got my application rejected. That God damned asshole.
“Are you sure it doesn’t say why?” I ask. “There has to be a reason, right?”
“Wish I could say.” He shrugs. “But I can’t. This is New York City. It’s one of the hardest cities to buy guns in. Sometimes these things come back like this. And there’s nothing you can do here. Your only option is to take your appeal to the NYPD.”
I look down at the paper with the seal of the NYPD proudly emblazoned on top of it. There’s no way they’ll accept my appeal. If Harry got my application blocked, I’m sure he’ll get my appeal blocked, too.
God damn it!
This was my last option. What the hell am I going to do? Move to another shitty motel and hope he doesn’t find me somehow? I can’t keep doing this to Ethan. He needs something stable. I can’t just keep running.
This wasn’t my last option though. There’s still Rocco’s offer.
“Excuse me, lady,” the guy at the counter says. “Do you mind? I gots to help the customer behind you.”
“Oh,” I say, looking behind me at an impatient man in a very expensive suit. “I’m sorry.”
