Officer, have you ever woken up in someone's arms and felt, just for a second, that the world outside didn't exist? That was how it was with Gregory. That morning, with his arm heavy around my waist, his breath warm against my shoulder, I thought maybe… maybe I had stumbled into safety.
I stirred slowly, careful not to wake him. His body was a wall of strength pressed to my back, protective even in sleep, as though his very presence barred the world from hurting me again. After the storm of tears the night before, he had held me without asking for explanations, washing me gently, tucking me into his bed, letting me collapse against him until sleep dragged me under.
But morning light brings reality. And the reality was bruises.
In the bathroom, after my shower, I stared at myself in the mirror. My stomach bore the evidence of Raymond's fists, ugly marks blooming against my skin. My throat tightened as I traced them with trembling fingers.
How had I endured him for so long? The insults, the selfishness, the constant blows, the erosion of who I was.
It baffles me, Officer, how I didn't see the monster clearly until I broke free.
I dried myself briskly and wrapped the towel tight around me before returning to the bedroom. I almost dropped the towel when I saw him.
Gregory stood by the window, arms crossed, jaw clenched, his gaze locked on me. That silent intensity pinned me to the floor.
I swallowed hard, fingers tugging at the towel. "How are you feeling this morning?" he asked at last. His tone was calm — too calm, each word forced through clenched teeth.
"I… I'm feeling better."
"Good. Now would you mind explaining how you got those bruises?"
My heart lurched. "Oh, they're nothing to worry about. I should get ready. I've a lot to take care of today."
His eyes flared. "Don't you dare give me that dismissive attitude, Timi. You came here in the middle of the night sobbing, almost giving me a heart attack, and now you stand there saying it's nothing?" His voice was low, fierce, every muscle in his body thrumming with suppressed rage.
I turned quickly, buttoning up my blouse with trembling fingers. "I told you, I handled it. I'm sorry I scared you."
"Where the hell are you going?" His voice dropped into a growl that set my heart racing.
"I need to look for an apartment," I said, moving towards the door.
Before I could reach it, his hand closed around my elbow, firm, unyielding, pulling me back.
"Greg, you're hurting me." I looked down at his fingers gripping me, then up into those earthy eyes that blazed with anger.
His jaw clenched tighter before he released me, slowly, deliberately. His control was a dangerous thing, visible in every line of his face. "We need to talk."
"There's nothing to talk about. I understand I can't stay here, which is why I—"
"Don't twist this. I'm not asking you to leave. I'm asking you to tell me the truth about what happened to you last night."
I gave a bitter little laugh. "You sound like a concerned boyfriend."
"And I'm not allowed to be?"
"I appreciate your concern, Greg, I really do, but you don't expect me to burden you with my worries because you—" I bit my lip, too late to stop myself. "—because you got me off a few times—"
His voice thundered into mine, sharp and raw. "You think that's all this is to me? Just a fling with some woman who means nothing? A few hours of fucking, then forgetting it ever happened?" His eyes burned into me. "Is that all you think I see when I look at you, Timi?"
I froze, shame prickling my skin. "Greg, I didn't mean it that way—"
"I like you, Timi," he cut in, his voice dropping, softer but no less intense. "I really do. Forgive me if I lack the words, but don't mistake my silence for emptiness. I feel something when I'm with you."
My heart stopped right there. Those words — I like you, Timi — hit harder than Raymond's fists ever did.
A tear slipped down my cheek before his mouth was on mine, hot and demanding. His kiss was fire. I melted, giving in, unable to resist the heat that roared through my veins.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested on mine. "Tell me, my dear. What really happened?" His anger was gone, replaced with concern.
My voice trembled. "My relationship with Raymond… it hasn't been pleasant for months. He changed. I kept waiting for the old Ray to return, but he never did. Yesterday, I ended it."
His eyes narrowed. "You mean the coward has been hitting you for months?"
"I thought it was a phase. Something was eating him, but he wouldn't talk about it."
"So you let him take it out on you because you loved him?" Gregory's fists clenched, jaw tight. "You should've gone to the police. Love doesn't mean suffering in silence."
He paced the room, fury simmering. Then he stopped dead, his eyes hard. "I'll deal with the bastard myself." He grabbed his phone.
"You'll do no such thing," I snapped, snatching it from his hand. "I made sure he got a scar he won't forget. I'm free now. That's all that matters."
His gaze bored into mine. "He brutally assaulted you, Timi. He deserves punishment." He stepped forward, reaching for the phone, but I backed away.
"Greg, let it go. Please. He can't touch me now. I'm safe."
I was about to hand him the phone when mine began to ring. I glanced at the screen. The single word froze my blood.
Fire.
The world tilted. My knees buckled. The phone slipped from my hands, hitting the rug with a dull thud.
"Babe, what is it?" Gregory caught me as the floor threatened to swallow me. My vision spun, black edges closing in.
I heard his voice, distant, urgent, speaking into my phone. I heard the words "firemen," and "scene," and "...will be on our way."
Then darkness pulled me under.