“Get off me!” I shout, trying to pull my arm loose.
Gary keeps his grip on me and I reach up with my other hand and try to pry his fingers loose. Still he grips me, his grip getting tighter. I can feel real fear starting to gnaw at me now.
“You’re nothing but a little slut, Opal. Fucking other men while we’re together,” he snarls, his face pressed close to mine.
As I release a little whimpering sound, I wonder how the hell I can appease him enough to get him off me without giving him any impression that we’re going to get back together.
“How could you do this to me? How could you act like a little whore like this when you know I’m the only man who could ever love you?” His voice is soft now, pleading. His words don’t match his tone.
I’m starting to seriously think that the man is mentally ill. I can’t keep up with his mood swings, how he can go from berating me to begging me to be with him in one sentence. “Gary, you’re hurting me,” I say, looking at his hand on my arm. He’s gripping me so tightly I can see where his knuckles are starting to turn white.
He shakes his head, tightening his grip and making me cry out.
I try to pull my arm loose from his fist, but all that does is make my arm hurt more.
“I’m hurting you? This is nothing to how much you’ve hurt me, Opal,” he growls. He has a dangerous glint in his eye as he glares at me. “Maybe I should punish you, let you know what I am capable of doing to you if you cheat on me again. And then maybe next time, you’ll think twice before fucking some other guy.” He nods to himself like he’s decided that would be a good plan.
I’m so afraid, I can barely speak. What the hell is he going to do to me? I can feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away. I won’t let him see how scared I am. I have a feeling he’ll enjoy my fear, that he’ll start to believe he’s teaching me a lesson or whatever bullshit idea is going through his head. I just need to find a way to calm him down long enough, so I can get away from him and into my apartment then lock the door. “Gary—”
He shakes his head, cutting me off. “You’ve had your chance to apologize for your behaviour Opal and you chose not to do it. Now, it’s my turn. I need to make you understand how much you’re hurting me pushing me away like this. And Opal? I need you to keep in mind that I love you okay? I love you, and I’m just doing this for your own good.”
I feel relief flood through me when the door opens. Surely, Gary will let go of me now someone else is here. Now, I can take my chances and run to my apartment. The relief is even more intense when I glance up and see Brett standing in the doorway. He’s got my scarf in his hand. I must have left it in the car and he spotted it and came back to return it. Thank God, I forgot the scarf. Thank God Brett didn’t just wait until tomorrow to return it.
For a moment, time is frozen.
Gary still holds my arm too tightly, but we’re both looking at Brett now.
Brett is looking right back at us, the realization of what is happening here slowly registering on his face. He goes from casual to raging in the blink of an eye.
Time starts to move normally again, when Brett takes a step forward. The door slams shut behind him as he takes hold of Gary, grabbing his shirt in two fists. “Take your fucking hand off her right now,” he says in a low and dangerous voice.
Gary starts. “But—”
“Now!” Brett shouts.
Gary releases my arm.
Instinctively, I rub the sore spot with my other hand. I can already see the bruises where his fingers dug into me.
Brett puts one arm across Gary’s throat and slams him against the wall. He pins him in place and turns to me. He holds my scarf out to me with his other hand.
I take it automatically.
“Opal, go and wait for me upstairs,” Brett says in a tight, controlled voice that barely conceals the rage simmering beneath the surface.
If I walk away now, he’ll go too far. Gary needs to be stopped, but I don’t want this to end up with Brett getting arrested or something. I step towards Brett, ignoring Gary’s fruitless struggles to free himself, and I put my hand on Brett’s arm in what I hope is a calming manner. “Brett …”
He shrugs my hand off him and the words die in my throat. “Go and wait for me upstairs,” he repeats in the same tight voice. “Now.” He glares at me, almost daring me to put up another argument.
I can see he is in no mood for me to persuade him out of this, and his tone has brought the tears right back to the surface. If I start crying now, I am almost certain Brett will kill Gary. I turn and run up the stairs, not looking back. There’s no sound from below and I realize Brett is waiting until I am out of earshot before he deals with Gary.
Getting to my apartment, I fumble to get the door open. I step inside, leaving the door ajar for Brett. I go to the sink and splash some cold water on my face and then I go to the living room area and perch nervously on the edge of a chair. My bottom has barely made contact with the seat when I am seized by
