Choose Me

by Valentina F.

  The cop who threw me against the wall, trying to calm me down, sits down in front of me and puts his head in his hands. "Hear me out. Your average is one of the highest, you're not stupid, but you do have priors. If you don't change your attitude, you're going to piss on everything you've worked so hard for."

  Do they really think, right now, with all this anger boiling inside me, that I give a shit? The only thing I want to do is get out of this stuffy room that stinks of stale coffee and run to Cat, make sure she's okay, and that she's not taken the first flight back to Italy.

  "What if it was your daughter? Your niece...your sister?" I blurt. His eyes open wide and I know I've touched a nerve. "What if it was the daughter of one of your friends I saved instead of my friend, who obviously doesn't mean anything to you, would you still treat me, stare at me, like a criminal?"

  He looks straight at me, never lowering his gaze, while his colleague pours herself some water.

  "If I beat the hell out of the guy who was trying to rape your daughter, would it make a difference?" I ask again. He doesn't need to reply, I can see the look of hatred in his eyes at the thought of some freak trying to touch his little girl. "I continue to react like this because shits like that guy continue to think they can shove their dicks where they like. You're lucky my brother intervened when he did, or I would have killed that bastard with my bare hands. You think you know who I am and what I am, but you know nothing. That was my best friend who I found in a pool of blood, beaten and raped at thirteen years of age. Thirteen. So don't come lecturing me. I know you've read the reports from the cops at Daytona Beach and you think I'm crazy. Shit, I bet you read about my father being locked up for hitting my mom and decided to put two and two together. But I'm not like him. I'd never, ever hit a woman." Just saying these words is torture, but I keep my head high and my voice calm. I refuse to break down in front of them, I'll hold my head high because I know I'm right.

  I'm not him.

  His DNA may run through my veins, but I'm not a coward like him.

  The lady-cop intervenes. "Mr. Carter..." She pauses for a long time and I stare at her trying to intimidate her. "I get what you’re saying. Sure, he had it coming. But that's going to interest the judge only so far...he'll take one look at your police record and things could go very badly."

  "So, what do you want him to do?" Kris, who's sitting beside me, breaks his silence. He's more thoughtful than me, he only speaks when he’s got something to say.

  "He'll have to convince the judge that he had no choice. He'll have to show regret and avoid expressions like, 'I wudda killed him with my bare hands.' Benjamin, you beat the shit out of the guy and the judge will take that into account because you know damn well you didn't have to go that far. You hit him and continued to hit him till you were stopped and the hospital report will prove that," the cop continues.

  I stare at him. I'm bored now. I'm not doing it deliberately, I just want to get out of here. My hand hurts and I'm worried about the concert tomorrow night. I took my eyes off Cat to answer my phone. The guy who organized the concert called to confirm we were through to the next round, then I turned around and she was gone and those assholes I call friends never even realized. They know what shit goes down in places like that, where everyone drinks and no one respects the rules. I must have warned them a million times and instead they let her go wandering off on her own, putting her in danger. They know she's not from around here and that sometimes her English isn't too good. The minute I see Mark he’s dead. He was there, too busy being a jerk to notice Cat was gone. Fuck!

  "What's the worst that can happen?" I ask, finally realizing how serious the situation is. I almost beat a guy to death. It was as if I was possessed by a demon. I couldn't stop myself. I knew I should have, but I just couldn't.

  "I don't know, Benjamin. We'll say that you were collaborative. We'll confirm your version, that you saved your friend from certain aggression, and no doubt she'll do the same. Best case scenario, you get off with a nice fine and, with a good lawyer and the right attitude, community service." The cop points a finger at me and all I can do is nod. "But from now on you're going to have to be a saint. No fights, no trouble, nothing, not even a speeding ticket."

  I'm nodding in agreement but all I want to do is go to the hospital and finish what I started.

  They keep me here another couple of hours then, after promising we'll bring Cat to the station the next day, they let us go. Today started off like a dream then turned into a nightmare.

  I get into the car and flop down on the back seat.

  I was this far from wearing her down, from hearing her say she'll choose me, then everything just went to shit. I doubt she'll want anything to do with me after seeing me beating that guy like that. I don't blame her. I don't like myself very much right now either.

  Ryan stops at a seven-eleven, leaving me and Kris in the car. He comes back a couple of minutes later with cans of drinks and a bag of ice for my hand.

  No one says a word. My friends are the only people I can count on in this world, and if I need putting in my place they don't hesitate to do it. I take their silence as assent. They can't say I did the right thing. I know I went too far, but they can't blame me, especially Ryan.

  "Thanks for the ice," I mutter through gritted teeth. Jesus, my hand hurts.

  "Will you be okay to play tomorrow?" Ryan asks without taking his eyes off the road, as he steers my car with excruciating slowness.

  "I think so, I'll work something out." In all likelihood, I've just flushed our big chance down the toilet.

  I didn't do what I did because it was Caterina. I would have done the same if it were Erika or Abby. Shit, I would have done it for anyone.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, distracted. Yet another text from Mark. I force myself to read it and reply. He must be worried sick.

  MARK: Cat's in our room waiting for you, I'll be with Erika. Buzz me when you get here.

  My heart starts pounding in my chest. If she's in my room, then the situation can't be that bad. I've been thinking about what I'm going to say to her, when she gazes up at me with her honey-colored eyes, looking for answers I can't give, for the past hour. I'm going to have to explain so many things and I'm not sure I can. We park and I run my hands through my hair for an instant. I'm going to have to tell her the truth. What happened tonight is too serious. There's no way to justify myself, I'll just have to explain how things stand, tell her why I have such a shitty character.

  "Ben, call me if you need anything." Kris pats me on the shoulder and heads to his room.

  "Let Mark know I'm here, please. He's in Erika's room."

  No one says a word, they simply do as I ask. They're the best fucking friends in the whole world.

  I slowly open the door and Cat leaps to her feet, scared. The only light in the room is a small lamp on the nightstand. She's wearing a sweatshirt and a tiny pair of shorts that show off her toned legs. I stand in the doorway for a few moments, too much of a coward to enter. She walks slowly over and when I close the door behind me she jumps on me, wrapping her arms and legs around me. I wasn't expecting this. I hold her so tight I lift her off the floor, sinking my face into her perfumed hair. My heart's beating like crazy and my hands are shaking. I'm startled when I feel her controlled sobs against my shoulder. I have so much built up tension in my body that I feel like crying, too.

  She's so small and light. I sit down on the bed, her legs still wrapped around my waist. Her touch is so reassuring, like a warm woolen blanket on a snowy winter's night. I stroke her head and hold her against me as tight as I can, breathing in her sweet perfume. With every mouthful, the adrenaline in my body melts and my heart finds its regular rhythm.

  I feel her hot tears against my shirt and at the thought of what was about to happen to her, the demon inside me awakes. I'll always take care of her, my sweet beautiful little Blondie, so fragile in my arms.

  I gently push her head back and look into her yello
w eyes, full of tears and anguish.

  "Are you okay?" she asks, her voice faint, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her sweatshirt. She's so perfect.

  "I'm good." I press my forehead against hers. I should be the one asking her how she is. "You?"

  "Good…now you're here." Her accent drives me crazy, much more than her words.

  I lay her down on the bed and lie down next to her, holding her close. I softly kiss her forehead, then her cheek, and finally her eyes, brimming with tears, wiping them away with my lips.

  "I'm sorry," she whispers between sobs, making my stomach twinge. "You told me to be careful, but I didn't listen. I was so stupid...sorry."

  I close my eyes and hold my breath. That's the problem with those bastards. They make the girls they attack and harass feel guilty, like it was all their fault instead. She has every right to walk away and go to the bathroom without needing an escort, without anyone trying to put their hands in her underwear against her will.

  "Shh, it wasn't your fault."

  "What will they do to you?" she asks, a little more in control now.

  "Nothing, they won't do anything," I lie. The judge will have my ass. I could even end up in jail. "They won't do anything, Blondie."

  I stroke her hair again, then work my hand down her back, feeling the thick fabric of her sweatshirt. I want to kiss her, touch her, to promise nothing will ever happen to her. Because she's mine, the fresh air I've been waiting for, for too long.

  She moves her head a little and runs a finger down my cheek. "How’s your hand? Mark said you hurt it. Do you want to get it checked out?"

  "I'm okay, Blondie. Really, I'm fine." Now I have you in my arms, that is. I kiss her temple again and lose myself in her bright eyes. Even with a red nose from crying, she's beautiful. Her cheek is red and she'll have a goddamn bruise by tomorrow. She'll be carrying the souvenir of this evening around on her face for weeks. I grab the ice bag that I put down on the table and place it gently on her cheek.

  She winces in pain when the cold plastic touches her cheek and my stomach twists in anger.

  He touched her. He punched her in the face.

  I have to close my eyes to calm myself, breathing out a little at a time.

  "We're both a little bruised, I guess," she says ironically, giving me a small smile that melts my heart.

  "What did he do to you?" I ask quietly, adopting a soft, reassuring tone. I don't know if hearing the gruesome details is such a good idea, but I'd rather hear them now than for the first time tomorrow morning in front of the cops.

  She closes her eyes, trying to push away the images my question conjures up in her head. "He grabbed me and threw me up against the wall. I tried to scream but he put his hand over my mouth. I thought I was going to suffocate. I tried to bite him and he hit me..." Tears run silently down her cheeks and it kills me to see her like this. "Then he tried to pull my shorts down and I kicked him but he was too strong for me...and then, well, I threw up on his hand." I smile, if only for a fraction of a second.

  She's my little fighter, with fire inside her.

  "Yeah, disgusting, right?" she says sarcastically, putting two fingers against my lips, her face softening. "He unzipped his pants and then…you arrived."

  She rests her head on my shoulder.

  I lie in silence, trying to find the right words, because I know I should say something.

  "Jessica told me what happened when you were thirteen," she says, all in one breath and my heart stops. She knows and she's still here in my room, clenched in my arms. How's that possible?

  "Did she tell you everything?" I ask, unable to breathe. Did she tell her about my father, too?

  "I don't know. She told me what happened, and what happened after..."

  I nod. "Did she tell you anything about my father?" I don't know why, but I reach over to the nightstand and switch off the lamp. I guess I need to be in the dark. She trembles in my arms. "You want me to switch it on again?"

  "No, I like the dark. It helps me think."

  I adore her. No other word will do to describe what I feel and we have much more in common than I thought.

  "When Mark and I were kids, my dad had some issues. He was depressed, lost his job, and started drinking. My mom was pregnant, it was a girl..." I pause, trying to remember the details but, most of all, trying to find the right words because I don't want to upset her even more. "One night he came home, drunker than usual, and he beat her up. She fell down the stairs and lost the baby." There, I've said it. I don't tell her how helpless I felt, my mother's piercing screams ringing in my ears, the blood on the rug. I don't tell her how I charged at him, the kicks to my stomach, my ribs. I've always been impulsive, not like Mark, he's more reflective, more cold blooded, like a real predator. He ran over to Jessica's house for help, while all I could think of was protecting our mom from my father's kicks. But I was eight years old, just a kid.

  "Oh my God." Cat trembles again as she clings to my shoulder, wrapping her legs around mine. "Ben..."

  "It's okay. It was a long time ago. He was in prison for years and now he lives on the west coast, in Oregon."

  I gently kiss her reddened cheek and dry her tears, which stream endlessly down her face. "So, my mom’s scared I'm going to turn out like him." Just the thought breaks my heart. She's never said it out loud, but I know that's what she thinks. I remember the way she looked at me when she came down to the station, when I almost killed the guy who hurt Jessica. The look of terror in her eyes almost killed me. Instead of reassuring me, she made me feel repulsive, worthless. An asshole, like father, like son. But she's wrong, I'm not like him and I never will be.

  Cat doesn't say anything and I begin to feel scared. I want to shake her, make her say something, make her say she doesn't see me like that. "You saved me tonight," she says, finally. "That man would have destroyed everything I am and you didn't think twice. You saved me. I don't care what your mother thinks, you were there and you saved me."

  Her lips meet mine and a tear runs from the corner of my eye, but she doesn't notice. She kisses me softly, her mouth pressed against mine. I want to devour her, but not tonight, it wouldn't be right. I'll make her mine, but not tonight.

  "You mean that, Blondie? You're not scared of me?" I whisper against her lips, unable to break away from her mouth. Her soft touch is my lifeline right now. If she wasn't here with me I'd sink.

  "Yes, I am scared of you, but not for the reasons you're thinking." She takes her hands from my neck and covers her eyes.

  I know what she means but I don't have the energy to discuss it right now.

  She has to leave her boyfriend and stay with me at all costs.

  "Come here." I pull her on top of me and put her arms around my neck again. I need to look into her eyes. "Let's get some sleep." I kiss her softly, savoring the taste of her tears on her lips. "Everything will be okay and just when you least expect it, you'll find the answer you're looking for."

  She closes her eyes and I pull her up, onto my chest. I need to sleep like this tonight, with her heart beating against mine. Even if only for tonight, she's mine and I'm going to protect her.

  Because she's my breath of fresh air, my fucking oxygen.

  18

  I wake with a start, scared, almost letting out a scream when I feel legs that aren't mine wrapped tightly around me. Ben jumps up and pushes himself away from me as if I were on fire.

  Shit, it was a nightmare. I sit up, gasping for air, trying to remember what happened. The aggression, Ben's fists, the police, the ambulance. Ben coming back to the motel room, our bodies entwined, falling asleep in each other’s arms.

  "Cat!" Ben grabs me breathlessly by the shoulders. A dim light filters through the curtains.

  "I'm okay, it was just a bad dream. "

  He hugs me from behind and rests his head on my shoulder, breathing heavily. Slowly, he tries to turn me around but I resist. I'm not wearing my sweatshirt, I'm half-naked, my hair's a mess, and I definitely need
to brush my teeth.

  I get out of bed and close myself in the bathroom. I need to pee, rinse my face, and try to brush my teeth, just like normal people. I'm sweating and don't want Ben to see me like this. I mean, not even Mark ever sees me like this. I find a comb and run it through my hair, then spread toothpaste on the tip of my finger and rub it over my teeth. It's not the best solution, but it's better than nothing. However, hoping that Ben brought a good day cream with him is being a little too optimistic. And talking of optimistic, he has a box of condoms in his bag. I guess that earns him an extra point for being the kind of guy who uses precautions when he fucks around, but I'm going to have to take two points off if he brought them along with the intention of getting in some girl's underwear...three points if he thought that girl was me. Not that we were too far from that yesterday afternoon...

  I check my face in the mirror. My cheek isn't quite so red now and the swelling's gone down. Perhaps I won’t have a bruise after all but Abby insisted on taking photos last night, just in case.

  I tiptoe out of the bathroom, embarrassed, hoping Ben's gone back to sleep so I can sneak back to my room.

  Not a chance.

  He's sitting up, his back against the headboard, a sheet pulled up to his chest. His tousled hair makes him look even younger and his sleepy eyes are bright, scrutinizing me carefully. "Blondie, what's wrong?"

  His voice is calm and I run over to the bed and jump on it. I need to feel his arms around me.

  I lean back against him, my face against his bare chest. "I needed the bathroom. What time is it?"

  "8:30. We have to be at the police station soon." He kisses my head and I stiffen. Can't we just forget what happened? "And now I need the bathroom."

  I reluctantly move out of the way then pick up my iPhone and check my messages from Mark. He must be awake already.

  MARK: Cat-Babe, how are you?

  CATERINA: Better now...babe! You need to use your room?

  His answer comes at the same time Ben walks out of the bathroom.