The police had stopped by Nick's room a few times since he was admitted into the hospital and every conversation was about the same. They asked what the attacker looked like, what he used as a weapon, if Nick knew him, why he thought the attack occurred and various other questions. Each time, Nick answered them and waited for them to decide what to do.

Once Melissa told them of her encounter with him entering the house, they decided to keep the house under surveillance.

An officer went home with her that evening and stayed in the living room as she slept alone upstairs. The night before had been hard as she slept on Amanda's couch, only a dog and a photograph to keep her company. Now, it was almost unbearable. Nick's side of the bed was always warm, his arms always there to comfort her. Now it was cold and vacant.

She rolled from her back and onto her stomach again, the digital clock on her beside table glowing with the numbers 2:05am. She sat up and turned on the light. She pushed back the sleeves of Nick's hockey jersey, her favorite article of sleep wear, and brushed the hair from her face.

She crawled out of bed and found Nick's slippers on the floor. She slid her feet in them, the backs thudding against the floor as she padded down the stairs. On the sofa in the dark living room, the officer sat, his eyes focused on the pistol in his hand as he wiped a white cloth over it. She gasped slightly when she saw him, causing him to instinctively raise the gun toward her.

"Oh…it's just you…" he said as he lowered the weapon and began cleaning it again.

"Yes…it's just me. I wanted something to drink…" she said, still shaken. She walked to the kitchen and flipped the light on. She had rearranged things that evening after Marcus' remodeling, but the house was still not the same. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of milk, pouring the thick white liquid into a tall glass before sitting down at the kitchen table. The officer walked in, standing at the entranceway, his stocky figure leaned against the framework. He put the gun back in its holster before he looked at her and opened his mouth.

"You don't like being alone do you?"

"It's not being alone that I don't like…" she started slowly as she toyed slightly with the glass. "I just don't like being apart from Nick…"

"Ah…I see how it is."

"I love him…that's how it is…" She quickly finished her milk and then placed the glass in the sink. "Good night…" she then said as she walked out, wanting to be with Nick…not talk about him.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

The next morning, Melissa awoke to shouts and the sound of a fight in her front yard. She ran down the stairs to the open front door to find Marcus and the stationed police office wrestling in the grass. She ran to the kitchen and grabbed the phone, dialing the number to the main detective. He soon answered his cell phone and she told him what was happening.

She waited, curled in the corner of the kitchen as she waited for the whole situation to end. The sounds of struggle brought back vivid memories of when she was the one Marcus was punching. She could see his face so clearly, the cold features as if etched from stone, the scowl he wore every time he would lift his hand, the piercing pain of every single hit. She shuddered as her eyes squinted closed and she wrapped her arms around her knees.

Suddenly a hand came to her arm…she knew it was him, it had to be. She screamed out, "No!!! Please, No!!!"

"Melissa…it's me…Detective Williams," the soft voice said. She lifted her tear stained face, her hair falling around it, framing her cheeks and jaw. Her eyes were deep green pools of fear, anguish and pain. He helped her to her feet and led her to the front door as he explained what had just happened. In order to keep Marcus from running onto the house after Melissa, the officer had to draw his gun and shot Marcus in the back. He was dead instantly.

Melissa stepped into the open doorway, the large body of her ex-husband slumped over the front steps, a pool of deep crimson blood slowly growing around his still form, filtering into smaller channels, sprawling out like a hungry tiger as it moved to touched the brick walk and then spilled into the grass. The deep red liquid was enough to throw Melissa's stomach into the endless upheaval of nausea. She ran back into the house, barely making it to the bathroom before she vomited.

His body was soon taken away from the house in an ambulance as the police report was written. Melissa excused herself later to go visit Nick in the hospital, his arms welcoming to her tears as she told him everything that happened.