Part 1
JC woke up the sound of someone knocking at his door. He rolled over and looked at the clock on the bedside table. 2:45. 'Who in the hell is here n the middle of the night?' he wondered to himself and then instantly realized who it probably was. He got out of bed and walked over the creaky wooden floors of the dark hallway. Reaching the door, he looked the peephole. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. 'How many times....'
He opened the door and leaned against it. "Again?" he asked, not really needing an answer. She nodded. Nights like this had become almost routine. She would show up on his door step, black and blue, practically beaten to a pulp. He stepped back more, ushering her inside. Taking her coat, he hung it in the closet and headed for the kitchen. He returned, handing her a glass of water, and a couple pain pills. He sat next to her on the couch.
She stared straight ahead, not saying a word. He studied her as she sat in a dead stare. Both of her eyes were covered in a dark blues and purples. He closed his as a single tear escaped one of them. How could anybody do this to her? How could anyone want to hurt her like this?
"Come on," he stood up," Let's get you cleaned up."
"So," he asked as he cleaned her cuts, "What happened this time?"
She didn't answer.
"He came home drunk again, didn't he?"
She simply nodded her head.
He dropped the cotton swab. "Damn it Ang! How many times are you going to let him do this to you?"
She looked up at him, surprised at his sudden outburst. "Josh.."
"What this time?" he asked. "He really does love you right? He really cares about you?" He was almost yelling now. "If he loves you so damn much, then why in the hell does he use you as a fucking punching bag? Huh? Tell me that!"
She stared deep into his eyes and began to cry again. His stern features softened, a little more with every tear. He spoke again, his voice and tone both considerably softer."God..I'm sorry Ang. I didn't mean to yell," he wrapped his strong arms around her. "It's just ---- it kills me to see you hurt like this. When I think of all the times he's hurt you, I just wanna kill him.. I want him to feel every little pain you've ever felt." They both sobbed as he spoke to her. Her head rested against his chest, lifting and falling with every sob he let out. He put his hands on the side of her face, looking directly in her eyes. "You're moving in here," he said firmly, leaving no room for protest. "We'll get your things together tomorrow. I'll go with you, just incase he's there. You better hope, for his sake, that he's not there. If I see that motherf---"
"Thank you Josh," she interrupted him," for everything. I don't know what I would do without you. If I didn't have you in my life, I---"
"Don't even think about it," he said softly, "I'm always going to be here. I'll never leave you. Ever"
Part 2
Angie put the key in the doorknob, but hesitated before turning it. "What if he's here?"
"It'll be okay," Josh said standing directly behind her. "I'm right here."
She turned the knnob slowly. Hesitantly, she walked inside. She quickly scanned the front room. Sot seeing him, she let out a relieved sigh. She turned and looked at JC with a faint smile. "I don't think he's here."
"Good, now let's get your things." He followed her down the hall to the bedroo. She grabbed two large duffel bags from the closet and they both began throwing her things in them. A short while later, they were finished.
She looked around the room, a sad expression on her face. Noticing this, he took her hand gently in his. "Hey," he said softly, "It's all for the best." She wiped away a few tears that had found its way on to her cheek. "I know it is," she said," But it's just so weird to pack up your entire life in forty-five minutes." She looked around the room again, one last time. "We should go before he gets back."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
JC found Angie in her new room. It appeared the she had begun to unpack, but what he saw was her sitting on the floor, her knees pulled up to her chest, sobbing. Without a word, he sat on the floor next to her, embracing her and pulling her body next to his.
He didn't say anything. He just held her and stroked her hair, consoling her. After ten minutes or so, she had calmed down a little bit. "Maybe coming here was a mistake," she said.
"WHAT?!?" he gasped.
"Maybe I should just go home. You know, he really DOES love me."
"Oh, yeah," he said sarcastically. "I can tell he loves you." He stood up and pulled her to her feet. He spun her sho that she facing the dresser, looking in the mirror. He stood behind her with his hands holding firmly onto her arms. "Look at you. Oh yeah, he loves you. He's just showing his love everytime he hits you right? How many times have you shown up at my house looking like this? Huh?"
Tears flowed over her cheeks like somebody had turned on a faucet. She cast her eyes to the floor, knowing that JC was right. "Look in the mirror," he said, practically yelling, not wanting to but knowing it was the only way she would listen, really listen. "Look at all the bruises, the fat lip…Look…" He dropped his hands from her arms. "Yeah," he said quietly, his voice soft, his tone, a sad one, " I can see how * much* he loves you."
She stared at her reflection a little longer while he sat on the bed. He rested his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands. She still stood in front of the mirror, thinking of all the times she HAD shown up at his door. All the times he HAD helped her. All the times he had held her until she fell asleep.
He looked up at her as she stood in front of the mirror. "God, Ang," he whispered. "How many times will you let him break your heart?"
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