Christopher frowns, nodding his head several times. “Let’s make it three,juuustin case,” he says, pushing off the door frame and closing us back into the little room once again.
Feeling his fight leave him, I yank Brandon up. He sags in my grip, pathetically wheezing and struggling for air. His face is bright red, and his hair is wet just at the edges of his face as the water trails down it.
Hospital toilets are low flow, apparently.
I give him half a minute to catch his breath. “Now, Iasked:did you beat her up?”
Brandon nods his head yes, still choking. I watch with disgust as a trickle of water slides from the corner of his mouth. He's about spent, but selfishly, this isn't enough for me. It's not near good enough.
My lip curls. "You're disgusting."
Irritated, I shove him back into the toilet and hold him there firmly, uncaring of him flailing and trying to get away. After another minute, I pull him back up, aware he's fighting to stay conscious.
“Now that I have my point across, this is how this is going to go. The police are about to come in here, and you’re going toconfess to what you did to herin frontof her, so we all know you got the facts straight. You live with her?”
My eyes flick across his face, memorizing him.
Brandon nods.
“Then, at some point, she’s either going to come get her stuff,orshe’ll stay in the place that you two are living in. And whatever she wants to do, you’re going to respect that, and you’re going to leave her thefuckalone. Aren’t you?” I say, narrowing my eyes..
“Fine,” Brandon hisses as his gray eyes flash in anger, his nostrils flaring.
I cock my head, feeling murderous. Because I instinctively know this attitude he's showing me, albeit I just knocked him around a little bit, is nothing compared to what I know he's unleashed upon that beautiful, helpless woman laying in the next room.
With bruises on her back so big and dark that I know he's taken out a lot of his anger on her, and didn't spare her any thought or mercy.
“I don’t give a shit how angry you are," I say decisively. "If I hear you are fucking around her again, I will personally come take care of you myself. Promise.” I let go of him and rise fluidly. “Oh,” I click my tongue and tilt my head, giving him a nasty once over, “I’mDr.Richardson, in case it comes up for any reason. Nice conversation, Brandon. Let’s go.”
I escort him from the bathroom, out of the door, and into the hallway, away from Sarah. I don’t even let him look at her until security comes, and we all go in together to give them a report. I walk to the other side of the bed, keeping myself in between her, Brandon, the officers and her friends.
"You're going to be okay, honey," I whisper into her ear.
Seeing she's shaken up, I press the side of my head against her temple, nuzzling her briefly, trying to give her some of my strength. I slide my hand back into hers, not giving two fucksabout what anyone in this room thinks about it. She needs to know someone's in her corner.
That I've got her.
Opting to stand next to her instead of returning to my seat, I exchange a mutually infuriated look with Jerome and Christopher while we listen silently as Brandon hollowly confesses to beating Sarah almost daily for the last several weeks. And to the beating that caused her miscarriage. My fist clenches.
The fucker threw her through a fuckingglass table.
I should have killed his ass in the bathroom.
I rub her soft skin with my thumb as Sarah quietly corroborates in her soft voice, correcting and interjecting where needed. Brandon stands there like a pathetic idiot, red-faced and quiet as the police officer reads him his rights and then places him in handcuffs. I hand Sarah a tissue, as she can’t get through the statement without crying. Brandon doesn’t mention what I did to him, and we all watch silently as they take him away in handcuffs.
Sarah's fingers tremble in mine the entire time.
Having been strong the entire report with the officer, as soon as they disappear through the door, her face contorts with pain as she breaks down crying again. She buries her face in her hands, and her sobs rip through my being, digging her way into my soul where I feel her settle deep.
Pressing her head to my chest, I stroke a heavy hand down her hair, needing to feel a connection just as much as I know she does.
Jerome and Christopher's eyes nail themselves on her back, where the hospital gown sags open. They widen in shock.
"Motherfucker,"Christopher curses and turns to stalk away, rubbing a rough hand across his jaw.
Jerome's face is tight with sadness as his eyes flick from her back, to mine, then to her back again. He brings a hand up to cover a ragged gasp, and a tear slips down his cheek. It's quite difficult to watch as these friends who obviously care deeply for Sarah get a good look at how bad the damage actually is. They stay silent though, and there's not much to say really without making it worse.
Though riddled black and blue, she's flawless to me.
