Acts of Desperation(34)

“We’re not over until I say it’s over,” he said.

“Are you kidding me?” I had never seen this side of him before and I felt like it was some kind of joke. I briefly wondered if I was being punked and expected Ashton Kutcher to jump out any second. “What’s with this act you’re putting on here?” I said finally when the dreamy actor never rushed through my door.

“You know what your problem is? Your mouth. You never did know when to shut up,” he said and took a step toward me.

“Ok. You’re going to need to leave now.” I began to get nervous and wrapped my arms tightly around myself.

“No,” he said and crept closer.

“Get out,” I said, taking a step back into the kitchen. My hair was standing on end, and my skin went cold.

He lunged for me and caught the edge of my blanket. He ripped it off and I ran to the backdoor. But he was already on me. He spun me around and slammed me up against the door, shattering one of the panes of glass. All of the air was forced from my lungs.

“John…I…can’t breathe,” I said, raising my arms to his chest and pushing him, but my attempts were futile.

If I could just get me him off me, I thought to myself.

“You’re spreading your legs for him already, aren’t you? Is his dick as big as mine?” He splattered my face with tiny droplets of spit.

Panic. I couldn’t panic. I shook my head frantically from side to side. He grabbed my face and squeezed my cheeks in his hand. He thrust his tongue in my mouth, smothering me with his hot breath and ground his erection into me.

This has to be a dream.

He tugged at his pants, and I heard his belt clink. Somehow, I was able to raise my knee and catch him in the groin. He hunched over, and fell to the ground. I broke free and made a run for the front door. I only got to the couch before my head was yanked back, and I was slammed to the floor.

“Stop! Stop!” I said, but he didn’t stop. His sweaty hand covered my mouth. My frantic gasps weren’t enough to fuel my weakened punches. He grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head. Then, I looked up into the eyes of a stranger. This wasn’t the John I knew, and his feral stare paralyzed me. I stopped fighting and closed my eyes.

I pictured the beach—the powdery white sand of Siesta Key.

The warmth of his penis grazed the inside of my thigh, and he yanked my underwear. He tugged it harder and harder until some of the threads finally snapped.

I’m under a cabana with a cold beer in my hand, staring out at the Gulf of Mexico.

Then there was a loud crash and suddenly his weight was off of me. I opened my eyes and crawled to the stairs. I hugged my knees and rocked myself. Then, I turned my head and watched as Jax pounded John into the floor. He had him by the shirt, punching and punching and punching until John’s body finally hung limp.

I saw the rage in Jax’s face as he defended me, saved me. And although he was beating John to a pulp, there was something in my gut telling me that he’d never hurt someone unless he had to. The look in his eyes was nothing akin to the look John just had.

The blood on Jax’s knuckles snapped me out of my trance. “Stop,” I said. “That’s enough. You’re going to kill him.”

He dropped John and was instantly at my side.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

I didn’t look at him and reached up to rub my head. “No...I don’t think so. My head hurts, but I think it’s just my scalp. He pulled my hair really hard.” Jax leaned over me and looked over my head. I didn’t mention the throbbing in my hip where my underwear still hung loose.

“I don’t see anything,” he said and got down on his knee next to me. “Who is that? Do you know him?” he asked.

“John.”

“Who’s John, baby?”

“My ex-boyfriend.”

“Ok. I’m going to call the police. Don’t move.”

I sat in a daze, shaking from my adrenaline rush, and listened as Jax made the call. When he was through explaining to the operator, he came and scooped me up off the floor then carried me to the couch. He covered me with several blankets and within minutes, there were police officers and EMTs swarming my living room.

While someone examined me, Jax spoke with the police. A couple of EMTs assessed John. His face had significant swelling already. One eye was a horrid shade of purple and nearly swollen completely shut. The EMTs bandaged up the other areas where his skin had split under Jax’s fists. I’m assuming they saw no major reason for concern since he was arrested and led away in cuffs.

“She’s in shock and needs some rest but she should be fine,” she said to Jax. I didn’t know who she was, this stranger that poked and prodded my body, but the smell of her latex gloves would be burned into mind for eternity. I wanted her to go away and to stop touching me. Physically I knew I was fine.

They all need to leave or I’m going scream, I thought. I need quiet.

“Ok,” Jax said. “I’ll bring her down to the station later to give her statement. I think she needs a little time.”

“Well, the sooner the better Jax but only because it’s you,” a strange male voice said.

“Thanks for coming Kevin. I appreciate it,” Jax said.

“No problem. Take care of her,” the man now known as Kevin said. They shook hands, and the house was finally quiet. Jax sat down and went to put his arm around me, but I recoiled.