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Jack had hit me twice in our three years, and both times he’d been devastated.

The first time was the night of Elaina’s bachelorette party. I’d come home too late, had drank too much, and had tried to push Jack away when he wanted sex. He slapped me then for the first time. I know I’d fought him
, and I remembered him pinning me against the wall.

I
know
that I told him no, but he forced himself on me anyway.

As more than a year passed, I’d convinced myself that, as bad as his temper could be at times, he’d never hurt me like that again. I wasn’t stupid, and I was well aware of the consequences of staying in an abusive relationship. But he wasn’t abusive; what had happened had only happened that once, and I learned very quickly to respond immediately to Jack, no matter what time it was, no matter what I was doing.

The second time, he’d hit me because of Jason.

I’d made it clear that my friendship with Jason was simply that; a life-long companionship that was strictly platonic. After Elaina had left him, and Jason came over, we’d spent the night watching the movies, talking, and drinking.

Jack had been in Miami that weekend, and when he came home, I told him about Elaina leaving Jason and that Jason had spent the night.

That time, he hit me across my
right cheek and eye. I barely had time to recover from the blow before he slammed me against the wall, tearing at my clothes and forcing into me before I was ready.

I’d zoned out,
waking sometime later when he was pressing ice to my face, apologizing on his knees, in tears.

We went to counseling together. I told the psychologist everything that had happened. Jack described how he felt that making love to me after his outburst would fix everything.

I’d remained silent after that. On the way home, I asked him if he knew the difference between make-up sex and rape. He’d given me a look that sent a chill down my spine.

“If you ever say that word to me again, we’re through, Alexandra. I won’t
have my own girlfriend accuse me of rape.”

I started on some anti-depressants after being convinced
by the psychologist that I was clinically depressed. I went off the meds within two months, and Jack became the most loving, doting boyfriend on the face of the earth.

Sometimes, I’d push him, testing the waters, waiting for him to explode. I needed to know that it was over, that the man
who I loved was there and the monster that I’d met wouldn’t show himself to me again.

I screamed and dropped the phone as the entire door tore against the hinges, and everything happened in a blur of particle board and noise. He had his hands on my upper arms, and in seconds I was on the bed, barely gripping the towel to my chest.

“Nothing pisses me off more than you walking away from me,” he growled, climbing to straddle me on the bed. I moaned, trying to wriggle out from underneath him.

“I’m s
orry! I was just mad- Jack-”

He struck then, while I was in mid-sentence. Across my left eye and my cheekbone, and the rush of pain stole my breath. My sinuses felt like they’d exploded.

And suddenly, I couldn’t inhale.

His
wide hand clamped over my throat. “How in the
fuck
do you expect me to marry you, when you won’t even fucking listen to me?” His free hand shifted the towel aside and jammed between my legs. I gasped for air as he shoved at least two fingers inside me, too deep, and I winced in pain.

I
worried about the text I’d sent to Jason, praying that I hadn’t actually hit
send
, that it didn’t go through, that he didn’t see it-
anything
to keep him from coming over and finding me like this.

“
Are you listening?” He choked me, and I moaned, trying to nod. He removed his hand and dropped his mouth to mine, kissing me hard. I tasted blood from the pressure of his mouth.

When he finally let go of my throat, I gasped, sucking in air around his
face. He locked his wet fingers on my jaw, forcing my mouth open. “I’ve invested three years of my life into you. Into this relationship. If I say we’re moving to Miami, we’re moving to fucking Miami. Are we clear? Alexandra?”

He was fumbling with his belt, unzipping his pants.

From somewhere deep inside, I gathered all of my courage. I knew that I wouldn’t survive him doing this to me again. The humiliation of him forcing himself on me only added to the pain of him hitting me, and I couldn’t live through it.

Not again.

“
We’re not clear
,” I cried, choking on my own sobs. “I want you gone,” I ordered with shaking words, my throat burning with each attempt to speak. “You swore never again. You promised,” I breathed, watching him back away from me.

“Wait. Wait,” he began, cringing, trying to pull me against his chest. “Honey, wait.
Please. I’m sorry, I was just… you walked away, I was angry… but I’ll calm down now. Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to hurt you, please-”

“
No
,” I whispered, inching back toward the headboard. “You have to leave. Now. Please, get out,” I tried, keeping the overwhelming horror and heartache at bay for as long as my central nervous system would allow. I knew that, at any moment, I was about to feel the full shock and impact of what had just happened.

“I live here.
With you. This is our
home
. Alexandra, please-…,”

The pounding on the front door of our apartment startled us both. He flew off of me, barreling toward the living room. I ran for my white bathrobe, tying the belt tightly around my waist.

I heard male voices from the doorway, and I knew Jason had gotten my text.

“Get the fuck out of my way. I want to see her.”

Before Jack could respond to Jason’s demand, I hurried into the living room, pasting on the brightest smile I could manage. “Jason! What are you doing here? I’m sorry, I thought I told you I can’t have dinner… Jack’s home, and we’re… we’re spending a quiet evening alone,” I forced, brushing at my cheeks with the back of my wrist.

He took one look at me, and then
Jack, and no force on earth could have stopped Jason’s fist from slamming into Jack’s face. He barely had time to recover before Jason reared back and punched him again, this time knocking him down.

“Her
nose is fucking
bleeding
,” Jason roared, a guttural growl that I’d never heard come from his chest before. When Jack tried to sit up, Jason delivered a kick to his side, and Jack groaned in pain.

I touched my nostril and pulled my hand away, staring at the thick, red blood on my fingertip.
“Jason,” I tried, but he turned to me, pointing at nowhere in particular.

“I want you to call nine-one-one
. Right now.”

“W
hat? No, you don’t understand-”

“
Sandy. He did this to you before. He did this to you again. I told him that if he ever hurt you again, I’d break his fucking neck and have him arrested. While I’m working on his neck, I want you to call the police. Right now. San.”

His tone had slowed, almost hypnotic to my ears. His voice reminded me of everything about my life that had ever made me happy; cookouts, campouts, school dances, baseball games… he was always my voice of reason, my oasis.

My calm before the storm.

“
Okay
,” I agreed, holding my breath as I dialed my iPhone.

And I retreated.

I could barely remember the police arriving, or Jason’s words as he spoke to the officer. I was vaguely aware of my mother helping me to my room, getting me to change out of my robe into yoga pants and a hoodie. She promised me that everything would be okay, and that she’d be with me through it all.

That s
he and my dad, and Jason, would never let anyone hurt me again.

They tried to put me on a
stretcher, but when I fought, Jason caught me in his arms, and insisted that he could carry me to the ambulance. “I don’t need an ambulance, I’m fine,” I protested weakly. I hated that my neighbors were watching from the doorway, whispering to my parents as Jason stepped onto the elevator with the paramedics and a police officer.

I was vaguely aware of Jason talking to the police. He was finally allowed to stay in the ambulance with me, and at the same time the doors closed, waves of fatigue washed over me.

“Close your eyes.”

I turned toward Jason’s voice. “My throat hurts.”

His warm fingers threaded through mine. “Close your eyes,” he repeated.

I did.

CHAPTER FOUR

Jason

Sandy lay on the hospital bed, curled on her side.

She looked so small. Her hair had been wet when I showed up at her apartment, and now it surrounded her face in a soft nest of curls.
Mr. Quinn was talking to the doctor, and Mrs. Quinn dabbed at the corner of her eye with a pale pink tissue.

“
Jason, you said he did this to her before?”

Mr. Quinn’s tone was distinctly accusing. Shamefully, I nodded, glancing his way once before turning back to Sandy.

“Four months ago. He hit her. They did counseling.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

Her father had the ability to sound both chastising and disappointed at the same time.

“Jim, she’s thirty-four years old. We’re not kids anymore. As much as I wanted to intervene, it wasn’t my place.”

“You were there for her tonight, honey,” Molly defended, patting my shoulder before giving me a half-hug. Her caramel eyes were so much like Sandy’s, and I nodded stoically. “Did you hurt your hand? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“
I’m fine, Molly. Thank you.” I accepted her gentle hug. “I’ll stay here with her tonight. Both of you, please go home and get some rest. You know I won’t leave her.” I started for the hospital room, and Jim dropped his hand over my shoulder.

“Jason, thank you.”

If ever I saw her father close to tears, it was at that moment. I only nodded, moving to Sandy’s side.

I slept in the chair, bent over her, our noses nearly touching.

I knew the rhythm of her breathing, and the small sounds that she made while she slept. She moaned softly every so often, and I’d tighten my hold on her.

Eventually, after the nurse came in around eleven, I slid the chair back and climbed into the bed next to Sandy.

Her eyes fluttered open, and as she focused on my face, she broke into tears.

“
Shh. My arms are around you, okay?
Just me.
”

She said nothing, only moved as close as possible to my chest and drifted back to sleep.

I decided that, even after everything I’d been through with Elaina, that this had been the worst day of my life.

I had still been reeling from my chat with Sandy when Carissa messaged me to tell me she wouldn’t be around until tomorrow. I’d sat on the couch with Joplin, thinking about Sandy’
s words.

We’d gotten
each other off. Via chat.

The
day had spiraled out of control after that. I’d gotten in my pickup to go get something to eat for dinner. I was minutes away from Sandy’s apartment building when she’d texted.

Help me

Inherently, I sensed that something was terribly wrong.

I
t’d taken all of my resolve not to kill Numbers. I knew that he’d hit her four months ago; she told me, in a fit of tears, and I’d made sure to speak privately to the asshole and officially threaten his fucking life if he ever touched Sandy again.

They’d seemed happier over the consequent months,
and after asking Sandy how he was treating her for the umpteenth time, she’s finally cut me off. “No more, Brew. We had some issues, but we worked them out.”

Now, everything had changed in the course of twenty-four hours.
I’d spent over an hour answering questions for a police report, Jack was in jail, and Sandy and I had come to a line in our friendship that we’d never intended to cross.

I
couldn’t sleep if I’d tried.

When she opened her eyes, I was there, and she pressed her forehead against my chest.

“My throat hurts.”

“I know,
San.”

“Did he damage anything? Is this
… permanent?”

God, her raspy voice killed me.
Just ripped my whole fucking heart right out.

“
Mild laryngeal damage. Your voice will be hoarse for a while.”

She widened her ey
es, reaching for her throat. “I… we have to get to work-”

“Stop.”
I ignored the nurse that walked in, continuing to stare into her eyes. “I’ll get the paperwork together. You’re taking leave. I’ll make sure it’s paid.”