by J Johnson
“A little.”, I mumble. Here goes nothing. “Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything.”, he smirks.
He’s so strange sometimes.
“Uh… Do you…”
“Just spit it out, Ashlyn. I won’t bite.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” His smirk gets bigger. “After I ask this, you may bite my head off.”
“I doubt that very much.”
“Okay. Here goes.” My feet move on their own, pacing back and forth in front of his desk. He’s watching me like a hawk. I wonder if he’s getting dizzy.
Focus, Ash.
“Okay. So, Jordan, the guy at the hospital last night… he said that you were bad news. That’s why we were fighting.”
“Okay.”, he says calmly. “Go on.”
“Well, when he said that, I told him unless he had some kind of proof that you were a bad guy to stop talking. And I know this can’t be true. I mean seriously, it would be insane. Nuts. And just so we’re clear, I don’t believe it for a second, but I have to ask.”
I stop pacing and face him head-on. The minute our eyes meet, I hesitate. What am I doing? This is crazy. He is not beating random people up on the street.
“Are you going to ask a question, love?”
“Uh…”, I start.
Okay, just spit it out and get it over with. Hopefully, he won’t kick me out of here and never want to see me again.
“Do you like… go out at night and beat people up?”
I’m not sure what reaction I was expecting. Anger. Fury. Disgust. Amusement, even. Instead, I got a slight nod.
“Yes, but it’s not quite that simple.” I’m so shocked at the admission that I’ve lost all ability to speak. “I have gone out at night and I have beat people up but they aren’t random people and there’s a reason.”
“What possible reason could you have for beating someone up?”, I squeal.
“Relax, love, and let me explain. Please. Before you run out of the room. If after that you want to run, then I won’t stop you.”
“Five minutes.”, I tell him even though I can’t think of any reason whatsoever that would make me okay with this. “And then I’m gone.”
“Your friend…”, he says with disgust. “… probably seen me the other night while I was out. I thought someone was watching me, but I never saw who it was. As for why I was beating up that poor excuse for a man… he was trying to rape a prostitute when she wouldn’t give him what he wanted for free. I ripped him off her and beat the hell out of him.”
“I’m confused. Why were you out at night around prostitutes?”
His story isn’t making sense to me. Who goes out at night into that part of town unless they’re looking for sex or drugs? So, he saved a girl trying to find a girl to fuck? Or drugs?
Yay. The guy I’m fucking is a cheating, drug using hero. Outstanding.
“Don’t go there, Ashlyn. I can see the gears turning in your head. I was not out looking for a prostitute to fuck. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“Then why were you out there? The only part of town that they hang out in is full of prostitutes, drugs, and gangs. Any of the above will not be a suitable answer but by all means, go ahead. What were you doing?”
He sighs and leans his head back on the chair.
“I go out sometimes to release some steam. I’ve had anger problems in the past and it’s my way of releasing it. I always find a guy trying to take what he wants from one of those girls, or a pimp beating one of them for whatever reason. I’ve seen women and kids being beaten. I’ve seen a drug dealer try to inject a kid with drugs to get them addicted. I go out and find whatever awful person I can that night and yes… I beat the shit out of them.”
I stare at him. I don’t know how to respond to what he’s just told me. Beating people? Is his anger really that bad? I’ve never seen it. Not like that. God forbid I ever do. At the same time, though, he’s helping people. The thought of a woman and especially a child being hit or abused in any way turns my stomach. He helps people like that. Like me, only I don’t beat on the abusive parents I see weekly, no matter how much I would like to.
“Say something.”, he mumbles.
“What am I supposed to say?”
“Say that you’re okay with it. Say that you understand. Say that you won’t run away from me.”
“I can’t say any of that. I’m still processing.”, I tell him and walk towards the door.
“Please don’t leave. I would never hurt you or anyone that doesn’t deserve it.”
I turn and look at him. I can tell he wants to stop me. I can tell he’s hurting, but so am I. Jordan was right.
“I have to think, and I can’t do it here. Not while I’m near you. And what gives you the right to choose who deserves it and who doesn’t?”
Eight
∞∞∞
My apartment seems much smaller than usual. Probably because I’m getting used to Zane’s place, which is three times this size. My brain is in overload trying to process the fact that Zane really goes out to beat on people. Apparently to squash his anger. Which makes me wonder what would happen to me if I ever pissed him off. Would he hit me? Has he hit a woman before? I’ve seen far too many families messed up by abusive husbands and boyfriends. It’s not something I ever want to be a part of.
Since I can’t seem to figure out what to do on my own, I call Zoe and tell her everything. When I’m done, she’s speechless, which is saying something. I’ve never seen her unable to speak about anything.
“So, what do you think I should do?”, I ask.
“I don’t know.”, she replies finally. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Yeah. That’s my problem too. There are so many ways he could manage his anger. Why go out and hurt people?”
“Well, he is saving people too.”
“True, but why not call the cops? Why beat them until they go to the hospital? He could subdue them until the cops arrive. I don’t understand it. Does he enjoy hurting people?”
“I don’t know, honey. I really don’t. I wish there were something I could tell you to help you with this, but I’ve got nothing.”
“What would you do if it were you in my place?”
“Honestly, I’d talk to Zane more about it first before doing anything else. You seem so happy, Ash. I’d hate for you to lose that over something that could be resolved if you just talk to him.”
“And what about Jordan? What he said is technically true.”
“It doesn’t matter. He’s an ass, and I told him as much after you left last night. He should have never fired you for that. It was uncalled for. I wouldn’t say shit to him until he apologizes.”
“Yeah. I guess.”
“Go talk to Zane and let me know how it goes.”
“Okay. Love you, Zoe. And thanks for being here for me always.”
“Love you too.”
Two and a half hours later, I go back to the tattoo shop where Zane is pacing the floor. As soon as I enter, he gathers me up in his arms and squeezes me tightly to his chest.
“Jesus. Where were you? I’ve called a hundred times and you wouldn’t answer. At first, I figured you were just mad at me, but when you didn’t call me back or show up, I panicked.”
“I’m fine.”, I mumble into his chest. He still has me crushed against him, making it hard to breathe, much less talk. “I can’t breathe, Zane.”
He eases up but doesn’t let me go. He tilts my face up towards his and kisses me with so much passion I almost pass out. Whoa.
“What was that for?”, I ask breathlessly.
I’m trying extremely hard not to strip down to nothing and wrap my legs around his waist.
“Just in case you came back to tell me you were leaving. I wanted one last kiss first.”
“I’m not leaving.”, I tell him, then realize what I’ve said. “Yet.”
He closes his eyes and starts shaking his head.
“What do
you want me to say? That I didn’t go out. That I didn’t beat someone up. I won’t lie to you. Ever. And I don’t know what to do to fix this. What can I do to fix this? Please tell me.”
“I want to know why you do it. I know what you said. Anger issues, but I think there’s more to it than that and I want to know what it is.”
“Okay. Let’s sit down.” He guides me to the sofa and sits down beside me. “My father beat on my mother when I was younger. Growing up, all I knew was anger. Violence. I would get into trouble at school and at home all the time. I was a replica of my father. Sadly. When I was fifteen my father left my mother for another woman, who he also beat. If it weren’t for my mother, I probably wouldn’t be here today.
“After he left, she changed. She was no longer the shy, silent abused woman. She became strong. She stood up for herself and somehow, she managed to get me on the right track. But the damage was done. I learned to control my anger mostly, but sometimes I just couldn’t. She tried therapy, pills, anything she could think of, but nothing worked. She thought I was unfixable. We both did.
“Then one day, a man knocked on the door. He was selling magazines. My mom answered it, and everything seemed fine at first. I should have seen it in his eyes, but I wasn’t paying attention. He pushed his way inside, knocked me to the floor and told me not to move, then tried to take her clothes off. She fought him. Hard. He took his eyes off me long enough that I was able to move without him seeing me. I ran to the kitchen and grabbed the biggest thing I could find. A butcher knife. When I returned to the living room, he had her pants halfway down.”
He pauses for a second, looking far off in the distance like he’s reliving this nightmare. I grab his hand, gently pulling him back to the present.
“I stabbed him. I didn’t know what else to do. I was so mad. The anger just rolled off me with every swing of the knife. All the years of anger and frustration was… gone. It depleted me in that moment. I ended up stabbing him eighty-six times. My mom had to pull me off him. I wasn’t even aware of what I was doing until afterward. I mean, I knew I was saving my mom, but after the first swing, I just kind of blacked out. I vowed never to wait that long again. I don’t want to feel that way. To lose myself and hurt someone. I couldn’t bear it. He deserved what he got, but I was so afraid I’d end up doing something like that to someone I loved.
“From then on, whenever I feel like my anger is building, I go out and find someone to save. You can always count on evil to be lurking around the corner. It’s how I manage the demons passed down from my father, Ashlyn. It’s the only way I know how to manage them.”
Tears are streaming down my face as I imagine a young boy going through what he has. I’ve seen some pretty messed up shit as a social worker, so I understand what he’s been through. I’ve seen it before. I’ve also seen how the kids react to such things. Some act out in violent ways, as he described. Some shut down and retreat into themselves. Some have even committed suicide. I couldn’t imagine having to go through any of it personally.
“Don’t cry love.”, he whispers then brushes a tear from my cheek. “It was a long time ago.”
“I couldn’t imagine going through what you’ve been through as a child. It’s awful. But you lied to me. You told me you hadn’t killed anyone before.”
“I didn’t want to upset you, and I didn’t want you to run. I was going to tell you one day just not yet.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that as a child. No one should have to go through that.”
“It was the hand dealt to me, so I had no choice. If there was another way to control the anger I would. I’ve tried everything. The gym. Running. Sex. Nothing works. Nothing but this.”
“Have you ever hit anyone else? Hurt anyone else?”
“Not anyone I care about.”, he shakes his head.
“And you only hurt bad people, right? No one else.”
“I swear to you. The only people I injure are ones that are trying to hurt someone else.”
“Why not just hold them down and call the cops?”
“That isn’t going to help me any love. I need to hit something, someone, in order for it to work. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s how I handle it. It’s how I’ve always handled it.”
“It’s insane and I don’t know if I agree with it. I don’t agree with it, but I guess I can understand why you do it.”
“I’m sorry I lied to you or omitted the truth. I didn’t want to scare you off.”
Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe I’ve completely lost my mind, but I believe him. I believe he won’t hurt me. I stare at him, trying to decide what to do. It doesn’t take me long to throw my arms around him.
“I’m sorry. It scared me. You scared me. I never thought he’d be right. Not about that.”
He rocks me, gently brushing strands of hair from my face, then kisses me softly.
“I know, love. And I’m sorry too. I should have told you. Even though we’ve only been dating for a few weeks, I feel like we’re connected somehow. I can’t explain it. All I know is I don’t want you to leave. Please don’t leave.”
I shake my head in the crook of his neck and grip him tighter.
“I’m not leaving.”
God help me, but I think I may be falling for him.
The following week my phone rings at work and I’m shocked at who it is. Jordan. I almost push the button to stop the loud ringtone, but decide against it. This was bound to happen, eventually. Might as well be now. I make sure my office door is closed before answering.
“Hello.”
“Hey.”, he starts hesitantly. “I think we need to talk.”
“About?”
I figure short and to the point will work until I figure out what he wants. If it’s to convince me Zane is a bad guy again, I’m hanging up.
“About the way I handled things and why.”
“Okay.”
“I know you’re upset at me, Ash, but I’d really love it if you’d meet me tonight at the hospital. I think I need to say this to you face to face, not over the phone. How about eight o’clock?”
I’m supposed to meet Zane at his place at seven.
“Okay, but if it’s going to be the same song, you’ve been playing the last three weeks, I don’t want to hear it. He explained everything to me, and I know now.”
“You do?”
“Yes. I know everything.”
“And you still date him?”
“Yes. What’s wrong with that?”
“Um… I don’t know. Maybe that you’re insane. That has to be it. There’s no other explanation. You’re fucking crazy.”
“Seriously, Jordan?”
“Okay, look. I don’t want to fight. We’ll talk about it more when you get here. Please. Just come by around eight and let me apologize.”
“Fine. I’ll be there.”
He better have a damn good apology waiting for me.
Have you ever felt like someone was watching you, but no matter how long and hard you look, you just can’t find them, so you end up thinking you’re crazy? That’s me right now. I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I turn in a circle, braced to run or scream or both, but I see nothing.
There are a few cars in the parking lot as I leave work headed for the hospital. A woman is across the lot getting into her car and a man just entered the building. I don’t see anyone else. I walk faster to my car that’s parked on the side of the building. Now that I’m thinking about it, I really need to park closer to doors from now on. You would think I would have learned that after what happened at the club.
As I fumble with my key trying to get in, I suddenly hear footsteps behind me. I try to get in the door faster, but I’m so nervous that I drop the damn things. When I bend over to pick them up someone grabs a fist full of my hair and yanks me back up. Tears spring to my eyes from the pain, but also because I can’t help but think I’ve been here before. Do I have ‘attack me’ written somewhere that I’m not aware of?
>
“You fucking bitch!”, the man yells as he yanks me closer to the back of the building. I stumble as he drags me along and can’t help but think how his voice is remarkably familiar. “You will fucking pay for you what you’ve done.”
It hits me who this man is. His name is Michael, and he’s pissed off for a good reason. I received a call a few weeks ago from the school counselor about his girls. She thought they were being abused at home. After a thorough investigation, I concluded that she was right and took his kids from him until he goes through anger management classes and rehab.
“Michael.”, I say as calmly as I can. “This won’t help you get them back. Think about what you’re doing.”
“It’s too late for that bitch. They don’t even want to see me anymore.”
“That’s not true. They’re just upset. When they see that you’ve changed, they’ll want to come back to you. They always do.”
“No. Bri told me…”, his voice breaks a little, sending a wave of guilt and sadness straight to my heart. I hate seeing families broken, but I can’t let them go on being abused. They don’t deserve that. “She told me she never wanted to see me again. She said they were happy where they are, and they didn’t want to leave. AND. IT’S. ALL. YOUR. FAULT.”
Before I have a chance to say or do anything, he throws me face first into the building. The brick wall scrapes and cuts across my skin, making it burn. He runs my face across the bricks, pulling skin off. I can feel the blood running down my cheeks and chin. When I open my mouth to scream, he slams me back into the wall, nose first. The impact is so strong that I suddenly can’t see, and my mind becomes muddy. He grabs my hair again and yanks me back against his body. Somehow he’s managed not to make skin on skin contact. It’s the only reason I haven’t been pulled into a vision yet.
“By the time I’m done with you, no one will want you. You won’t be recognizable if you live through it.”, he growls in my ear.
I’m already certain he broke my nose and my face is scraped all to hell. I can’t see through the haze of blood and tears, but somehow I end up on the ground face first. He rolls me over, straddling me, and I panic. I open my mouth to scream, but it never comes out. He hits me with his fist as hard as he can. It feels like my head is going to explode. He does it again. And again.
