Heroism (h.s.)

4.

I arrive at the radio station and I can already tell that I’m in way over my head.

As soon as I make eye contact with Cory, he gives me a sneer and tells me to sit down before he “kicks my ass all the way to Kansas”.  I wince, hesitating in the doorway.

He looks at me as if I have two heads, “What are you doing over there?  Sit your ass down already!”

On instinct, I step forward and scold myself for doing so.  I retract my foot and take a deep breath in.  Cory, getting impatient, stomps out of his chair and wraps his hand around my bicep like a vice.

“I quit!” I blurt out suddenly, catching him off guard.  He blinks at me blankly, trying to process the weight of my words.  Silently, his grip still tight on my forearm, he bows down to my level and sticks his nose right in my face.

“What did you say?” he snarls, his breath reeking of freshly smoked cigarettes.

“I said,” I begin shakily, “I quit.”

He slaps me - hard.  The sting of his blow spreads across my face and I gasp, holding my cheek in pain.  Too preoccupied with my injury, I’m practically defenseless and he drags me to the ground.  Cory straddles me, pinning my shoulders down with either hand.  He leans down, shifting his weight almost completely onto my upper arms.  I yelp and he covers my mouth.

“Bitch!” he yells angrily, practically crushing my lips together with his fingers.  I try to use my free arm to grab something, anything but I come up empty.  Terrified, I feel the tears brimming at my eyelids but push them back to refrain from seeming weak.  Unfortunately, Cory notices.

“Only little girls cry, Alexa,” he sneers, “Is that what you are?”

I shake my head furiously, feeling trapped and vulnerable.  He lets out a grotesque laugh that sends unpleasant shivers rolling down my spine and into my toes.

Cory continues to hit me and spit disgusting remarks at me and I can’t help but cry out for help again.  This time he doesn’t stifle my cries; he lets me writhe in pain.   His looming grin makes it obvious that he’s completely enjoying this.  The sight makes my stomach sick.

He shifts above me so that he can get a better angle on my face and in doing so, his crotch lands right above my knee.  I force my leg up as sharply as I can, slamming right into his balls.  He chokes in pain and freezes, tipping over onto the carpet beside me.

I bolt from the floor, my face throbbing from every punch and slap Cory dealt me, tears encrusted onto my cheeks.  He yells, enraged, as I leave the building in a rush, my belongings a jumbled mess in my arms.

I stumble into the street and realize with dread that one of my eyes is completely swollen shut, leaving me to rely on only my right eye for sight.  I vaguely recognize the movie rental place across the street and head left, towards where I’m pretty sure the alley is located. 

I go five feet before I feel a pair of hands grip my elbow.

“No!” I scream.

“It’s just me, Harry.”

I spin around and almost cry with relief.  Harry stands in front of me, mask on as usual but with worry laced in his features.  As soon as he sees the state of my face, his concern multiplies tenfold.  His grip stays sturdy, reliable on my elbows.

“Who the hell did this?” he asks in a low growl, his fingers hovering delicately over my fresh cuts and bruises.

“Ex-boyfriend,” I murmur while swaying from foot to foot.