Patrick, older, shorter, less fit, has no chance. Not that any of that matters. Matthias only has one thing on his mind; finishing Patrick off once and for all.
He flips Patrick onto the ground and kicks his leg into his side. Patrick lets out a blood-curdling scream.
“Matthias!” I yell. But it’s in vain.
He straddles over Patrick, who’s writhing on the ground, and wails on his face. Blood pools on the ground next to Patrick’s head as Matthias pounds into his face. Again and again. It turns my stomach and I have to look away. “Matthias! Stop! He’s not worth it!” But he doesn’t hear me.
It’s worse, it’s so much worse than the last time.
Finally, he gets up, staggering around as if he’s looking for something. “A brick. I need a fucking brick! I’m going to bash his fucking brains in.”
A couple walking past the alley, curious about the shouting, peers in, covering their mouths when they see what’s happening. “Oh, my god. Someone call the police.”
“Matthias!” I run to him, grabbing his hand. “We have to go!”
He looks at me, like he doesn’t even recognize me, Patrick’s blood dripping down his knuckles.
I touch his face. “Come on, darling. We have to go. Now.” I take his hand and pull him into the club, and out through the front door where his car is parked. “Keys!” I shout and he hands them to me in a daze. I can’t remember the last time I drove on the right side. The last time I drove was when I lived in Australia.
But it doesn’t matter, we have to go.
I turn the car into traffic. Where we’re going, I have no idea.
Just out of there, out of where Matthias can be blamed for any of this.
It’s dark. Maybe they couldn’t see who it was.
The engine revs as I press too hard on the gas. How does he drive this fucking thing? No wonder he’s always getting pulled over by the cops.
Think. Think. Think.
Shit.
There’s one person I know who we both can trust.
Leanne. I turn into onto Perry St. and can only hope that she’s home.
MATTHIAS
uck, you’re in bad shape,” Leanne says, grabbing my hand and pulling me into her apartment.
“F
Behind me Clarissa is panting from the run here. She’d parked the car a block down the road hoping no one would notice it there.
“Nice to see you too, did you redecorate?” I say to her.
“Just shut up and go inside,” Clarissa loud whispers and pushes me inside.
Leanne slams the door shut and looks me over. “What the fuck happened?”
Clarissa sinks into a couch, her head falling into her hands. “Patrick.”
At the sound of his name, the red cloud descends again. And I have to restrain myself from going back to finish the job. He was still breathing when Clarissa pulled me away.
That wasn’t the desired outcome.
Leanne comes over and throws a towel over my head. “Go take a shower. You smell like a slaughter house.”
“It’s always good to see you, Leanne.” But then I turn back. “Thanks.” She shakes her head and joins Clarissa on the couch.
The shower is hot and long; I wait until the water runs clear and cold before I even contemplate leaving, replaying the last hour over and over in my head.
I would’ve killed him. I would’ve bashed him brains in and peeled every inch of skin off him, just as a warning to anyone who thinks they can even think of hurting Clarissa.
What happens now, I don’t know.
I just know that she’s safe for now. What comes tomorrow, we’ll deal with tomorrow.
The two women are standing in Leanne’s kitchen when I come out, a tea cup in each hand. It must be Clarissa’s influence. Leanne only drinks drinks that come in a wine glass.
When they see me, they finish their conversation in whispers. Leanne walks out and taps me on the shoulder.
“Glad to see you’re the one left standing,” she says, giving me a hug and then leaves.
Exhaustion rams into me like a Mack truck and I stumble out to the couch, sinking into it.
“We need to talk about what we’re going to do now,” Clarissa says from the kitchen.
But I don’t want to talk. The severity of what I’ve done is dawning, and even though, in the moment, I wouldn’t have done anything differently to keep Clarissa safe, I’m not violent by nature. The image of his limp body under me on the ground is already starting to haunt me. And Leanne was right, I had so much of his blood on my body, I can still smell the metallic scent.
“Matthias, we can’t just ignore it… someone is going to come looking…”
“Clarissa. I’m really tired. And I… I have to think about things before I decide what I’m going to do, okay? This… is not a small thing. But… if you knew how I felt when I saw him pinning you against the wall, hand raised… I had no choice.”
The memory makes my mouth dry, and then fill with saliva. I run for the bathroom, and empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet.
I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I can’t undo it.
I need sleep.
I need to feel Clarissa sleeping next to me reminding me why I did what I did.
But when I fall asleep, it’s only me in the bed.
CLARISSA
R
eflections of car lights against the window are the only movement in Leanne’s apartment. Matthias went into the bedroom after he was sick, but I’m not sure I’m ready to join him.
The images of Patrick lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood haunts me, but more so, I know this isn’t going to be good for Matthias.
If he’s lucky and Patrick walks away from this, there’s no way that he won’t press charges, and any prosecutor with eyeballs is going to know they have a case. A young prosecutor looking to make an example out of the rich and privileged is going to go after this with everything have. And Matthias is certainly a good example of both.
He might think that he can talk his way out of this, but even a cat has only nine lives.
The stark reality that he would not even have been in this situation if he weren’t trying to protect me is the hardest part of this. And now he’s in so much trouble, I don’t know if there’s anything anyone can do.
There are no answers.
But if this last year has taught me anything, nothing comes from doing nothing.
He helped me, now I have to help him.
I pick up the phone, a grapefruit in my chest, knowing our time has come to an end. The phone is answered on the other side and the sound of his voice makes my stomach churn. “Can we talk?”
***