I can’t deal with this shit… or him. I need to get out of here. I take the stairs two at a time until I get to the ground floor. I burst out through the front doors. A cab is just dropping someone off, and without asking, I dive right into the back seat.
“Can you take me to Darlinghurst, please?”
“Of course.” The cab driver casually pulls out into the traffic. I turn in my seat to look at the Angel Hotel as it disappears into the distance before I turn back to face the road in front of us. My heart is beating so hard and fast in my chest. I see the look on Brock’s face, and I wipe my tears away as swiftly as I can. He was like a different person.
The cab makes its way through the traffic. and with every kilometre that we get farther away, I feel a little bit sicker about what I’ve just witnessed. Brock just kept hitting him, again and again. I mean, the idiot deserved the first punch, but why did he have to keep going with it?
I close my eyes. What if the man presses assault charges? But the guy did start it and was fighting back pretty bad. Maybe he wouldn’t have a case.
Brock has no control over his anger. None. I saw it with my own eyes, and even though he had touched on it with me, it was a shock to my system to actually witness it.
I can’t be with someone who can hurt someone like that with no regard for human mortality. I stare out the window through tear-filled eyes. I would have thought that after his father’s death he wouldn’t do this shit anymore. He’s twenty-eight, not a young boy dealing with extra testosterone. When is he going to grow up? Things were going so well for us. I thought I was maybe starting to fall in…
Oh, God.
He’s just too different to me.
I pay the driver and begin walking to the front door. My phone rings, the name Brock lighting up the screen.
“Hello,” I answer.
“Where are you?” he barks.
“I left. I’m at my mother’s.”
“What the fuck? Why, Tully?” He growls.
I screw up my face in disgust. “If you don’t know that, you’re a fucking idiot,” I snap and hang up, throwing my phone back into my bag as my blood boils.
The phone rings again immediately. I ignore it and walk into my building, hitting the lift button when I hear a commotion coming from down the hall.
Peachy Sue’s apartment door is open, and I can hear a man screaming.
Shit, it’s probably her pimp. Fuck, I don’t want him to see me. What do I do?
I hit the elevator button quickly, but it doesn’t come. Come on, come on. I look up at the numbers and see its still up on the tenth floor. Shit.
I hear something hit the wall down the hall, whatever it was being smashed to pieces.
“Get the fuck out!” she screams.
Oh my God, I don’t want them to see me. I look to the front doors, and then back down the hall. The fire exit stairs are next to her door, so he would see me if I ran for those. I scurry down the hall, open the janitor’s storage room, and I run in, pulling the door closed behind me. I stand in the darkness with my heart beating hard in my chest as I listen for more noise.
My phone rings again. Oh fuck. Brock, not now. I fumble to turn it to silent, and I concentrate, trying to listen again. Something else smashes and I hear a door open across the hall. Has someone else heard something?
I close my eyes as my heart hammers. I should call the police. What if he’s bashing her up? But if he hears me, he’ll probably hurt me, too. Oh God, why didn’t the bloody elevator come? I think I need to seriously consider moving apartments.
Bang, bang, bang goes my heart. This is why you don’t prostitute. Not only do you have to suck random dicks, you have to be owned by a fucking pimp who beats you up if you don’t go to work.
My eyes widen as a different scenario comes to my mind. What if Brock turns up here in his raging state and he runs into them hurting Sue. He will go fucking crazy, and the pimp probably has a gun on him.
Oh my God.
Shit, shit, shit, shit.
What do I do? I put my ear up to the door and listen. It’s all gone quiet. Fuck, do I just go out there how?
My phone vibrates in my bag again. For fuck’s sake, Brock. Go home, you idiot.
Please don’t be out the front of the building? No, he wouldn’t be here yet. He only just called me a moment ago from the bar.
I wait for ten minutes before I open the door and peer out. The corridor is empty and Peachy Sue’s door is now closed.
I swallow the fear in my throat. Okay… just act casual. Act casual. I’m just walking up the hall. I’ve seen nothing.
I walk up the hall, and I honestly feel like I’m about to have a heart attack. I hit the elevator button and, thankfully, the doors open straight away. I jump in quickly and hit the button. I hold my breath until I get to my floor, and then I run out and unlock my front door and dive inside my apartment.
I turn my phone off and storm to the bathroom for a shower.
What a disaster of a night.
Brock
I push the security button on Tully’s front door. It’s 3:00 p. m. and she is not taking my calls.
I fucked up last night. I fucked up bad.
She left and went to her mother’s when I got into that fight. She didn’t want to see me. I don’t know what came over me to lose my temper in front of her that way, and I hate that she saw me that angry.
I push the button again and I hear her pick up, but she doesn’t answer me.
“Tully, it’s me. Let me up.” I sigh.
“No. I’m good.” She snaps angrily.
“Can we at least talk about it?” I ask.
“I have nothing to say.”
“I do, so fucking let me up.”
The buzzer eventually grants me entry, and I push the door open angrily to make my way to the elevator. I inhale deeply as I try to calm myself down. Don’t lose your shit again, that’s what got you in this fucking position in the first place, I remind myself. I run my hands through my hair as I try my hardest to cool down. This is all new to me. I’ve never been in the dog house with a woman before. I don’t fucking like it.
Tully opens her door, fury written all over her face. I try to kiss her hello but she turns head away from me coolly.
I put my arm around her, but she pushes me off her aggressively. “Don’t touch me.”
“Come on, Pock.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Don’t Pock me!”
Silence is all I can come up with in response.
“What the fuck was last night about, Brock?” she snaps.
“Pock,” I whisper as is try to wrap my arms around her again.
“Don’t Pock me!” she yells. “I’m so fucking angry at you, it’s not even funny.”
“Why?”
She puts her hands on her hips and narrows her eyes. “You can’t be that stupid.” Her hair is wild and her big lips are full. I can see her silhouette through her nightdress and I feel my cock harden. This woman could seriously turn me on at any given time, even when she’s raging mad. The thought makes me smirk.
“You think this is funny?”
“No,” I reply, but I kind of do for some reason. A stupid smile crosses my face again.
She picks up the cushion from the sofa and hurls it at my head. “You big fucking twat waffle.” She yells in an outrage.
The cushion connects with my head, and I burst out laughing at the name twat waffle. That’s a new one. Tully storms into the kitchen, furious.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Any minute now, she’s going to come back and lose her shit again. I already know it’s coming.
Right on cue, she starts storming over to where I am again. “And another thing…”
“You didn’t tell me the first thing yet,” I tell her dryly.
She points her finger in my face. “Don’t bait me, Brock. I hardly slept a wink and I am raging like a bull.”
I exhale and look to the ceiling. “Obviously.”
“That’s it. She screams. “Get out!”
“What?”
“You think this is funny?” She yells.
“What’s funny? Spit it out, woman.”
“You!” she screams, and her eyes fill with tears.
My heart drops. Oh God, she’s really upset.
“You didn’t stop hitting him.”
My face falls.
“I’m so traumatised from seeing you like that.”
“Pock,” I whisper softly. I hate that she witnessed me at my worst.
Why the fuck did I do that?
“Don’t Pock me,” she says through gritted teeth. “You have no idea how it feels.”
I take her in my arms. “I’m sorry, okay?” I try to comfort her. “What are you talking about? How don’t I know what what feels like?” I hold her close.
“I can’t be with someone who thinks that behaviour is okay, Brock. I-I won’t do it.”
“Tully, I have to do what’s right sometimes. I can’t just let things go. I won’t have you disrespected, and that guy was asking for it.”
“So, you beat him to a pulp?” she cries. “He could have died. What if he hit his head on the floor and died?”