“Bethany,” she sounded as though she was sleeping.
“Hey, sorry to wake you.”
“No, no. Is everything okay?”
“Luca wants me to marry an awful man, momma. Please talk to him,” I begged.
I hear her pause and take a deep breath. “I’ll see what I can do.”
That wasn’t a good enough answer. My mother’s ‘I’ll see what I can do’ says she will bring it up because she said she would not because it was a real concern. Did she want the same thing? Although siding with Luca wasn’t out of the norm, I would have thought my plea for help on something life-changing would get her to speak up for me.
“Momma, please.”
“I will talk to him.”
Although it didn’t sound reassuring, there was nothing else I could do about it. Pulling into the parking garage, I get out of my car and lock it. As I walk toward the door, I hear an extra set of footsteps behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I see a shadow. Picking up my pace, the footsteps behind me did the same.
I panicked, but I was so close to the door—just a few more steps.
“Ending the night without a kiss goodbye?” a voice echoed in the garage.
Turning around, I didn’t see anyone. As I walk backward, I bump into a body. Instantly scared, I turned around and find Gabe looking furious. I couldn’t even scream. My voice was lost. As he stepped toward me, I stepped back. He reached to grab me with one hand, and once he had a good grip on my arm, his other hand lifted over his head, ready to swing right into my face. Terrified was an understatement. Right as his hand was coming down, I closed my eyes. I’ve never been hit before, but I knew this would hurt. Ready for the impact, I brace myself. Suddenly, there was a loud sound, and I felt my face get wet. The grip on my arm loosened. Opening my eyes, I see blood spilling onto the floor and Gabe screaming. What was going on?
“Bethany! Go inside!”
Emilio pushes me toward the door. He had a gun in hand and was pointing it to Gabe’s head. Gabe sat on the floor, holding his bloody hand. Everything felt as though it was going in slow motion.
“Bethany!” Emilio shouts. “Inside. Now.”
I ran to the door inside the building but didn’t go to my condo. Instead, I looked through the little glass window and watched as Emilio began to use the bottom of the gun to punch Gabe repeatedly. Emilio didn’t hold back for a second; each hit harder than the last. Gabe was resilient and somehow managed to overthrow Emilio and throw a punch. Seeing them go at one another as blood from Gabe’s hand-wound got everywhere. When I heard another gunshot and was unable to make out which one of them pulled the trigger, I turned and ran to my condo, locking myself inside. Looking in the mirror, I had above a console right when I walked in. I take a look at myself–there was a splatter of blood on my face. The red against my blonde hair popped.
What just happened? Suddenly, I had shortness of breath, and I fell onto the floor. Sobbing as I lay scrunched up in a ball, I felt helpless. Who knows how long I was there, but eventually, I managed to stop sobbing. There were footsteps outside my door, making me panic again. I could see the shadow of the person’s feet while I lay on the floor as they stood there for a minute. Eventually, there was a knock, and I covered my mouth not to make a sound.
“It’s me, Bethany.”
Emilio’s voice was soft, but I was still trembling from the incident just moments ago. I slowly got off the floor to open the door, and there he stood as though nothing had happened. This was Emilio. You never know where he comes from or what he does, but he always looks put together and is never stressed.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
I opened the door without an answer, inviting him in as I stepped back. Watching him watch me, I could tell he was uncomfortable, which was new. He shuts the door behind him in silence.
“You watched?”
“A little,” I whispered in a shaky voice.
“He was going–”
“I know.”
He didn’t need to justify it—I was thankful. My eyes teared up. If he didn’t show up, then who knows what Gabe would have done aside from beating me to a bloody pulp.
“Are you okay?” he asked, noticing I was shaking.
I nod my head but avoid eye contact.
Unexpectedly, he lifts me off my feet, carrying me to the shower. I remained silent. We didn’t say a word as he undressed me and wiped the blood off my face. He took off his shoes and suit jacket. Under the jacket, he had on a gun holster that held a gun on each side. He rolled his sleeves and washed me while I stood in the shower. He was being so gentle with me, a completely different person than moments ago.
“Is he dead?” I whispered.
