“Where is he?” I cry, releasing Stan’s hand and walking further out into the car park to get a good look around.
“What do you mean, where is he? Is Drake here?” Stan asks, losing his easy going edge. He’s all business now.
I strain to listen when I can’t see Drake or the guy he went after but I can’t hear anything, until, a plea for Drake to stop hits the air followed by a gurgled slur.
It came from the side of the pub leading to the alley besides the stone built building.
Stan sets off before I can move. I am still rooted in place when he rounds the corner and disappears from sight. When he shouts Drake’s name, I can hear the urgency and fear enveloped within his voice. My feet are moving before I know I’m walking.
I run to the side of the pub and skid to a stop when I see Drake cuddled into the guy against the wall. Stan is standing two foot away from them but he isn’t doing a thing to stop Drake.
The only movement I can see from here is Drake’s arm moving. As I edge closer I can see a gleam from something in Drake’s hand.
I take one step at a time towards them trying to work out what is happening, none of the three men are saying anything. The guy Drake went after does nothing but grunt and gurgle. Stan is braced waiting to strike but not to stop Drake I realise, to help him if needs be.
The closer I get the more I see. The guy’s head bobs around and finally slumps on Drake’s shoulder. I was wrong, Drake is saying something, it is low and I can only hear snippets.
“The pain she is in,” Drake sneers, his voice is ugly and out right scary.
“You knew this would happen…” I hear next.
Drake moves away and the guy slumps to the floor.
Both Drake and Stan move in and start kicking him, the guy’s yells for them to stop go unheard and there isn’t a part of me that wants to help him when he makes eye contact with me. I can see the pleading in his pain filled eyes for me to get him help. I don’t. I stand watching taking in every ounce of violence in this dark, shadowed alley.
The guy’s face is smeared with blood but I can’t see where from. Stan’s kicks to his back and Drake’s heavy boots in his stomach have him contorted into a sickly mangled position and yet I still don’t want to help him.
I tear my eyes away from the guy on the ground and watch Drake. His face is hard and cold. Pure concentration to cause as much damage as possible evident in every movement he makes. Every act of violence measured precisely to make him hurt, all because I asked him to.
Drake loses his balance when he jumps on the guy’s head and lands double footed on his face before stumbling back.
“Drake!” I call out.
His head snaps round to look at me and I step back.
“I told you not to come out,” he says, calmly.
Much more calmly than I expected after what I just witnessed.
The guy is now out cold on the ground and Stan is bent over bracing his hands on his knees, panting.
“That’s probably the most exercise I’ve done in months,” he says, in between trying to catch his breath.
Drake doesn’t respond to him, only stares at me. Everything around us is deadly quiet and I take a second to give Drake the once over.
He hasn’t got a scratch on him from what I can tell, his right hand though is covered in blood and a blood soaked blade sticks out of his closed fist.
That’s why his arm was moving when I first saw him, he was stabbing the guy. I wait for the revulsion to arise, I wanted him to hurt like he caused me to hurt. I knew Drake wouldn’t fuck around with him, yet the revulsion doesn’t come.
“You should get out of here, mate,” Stan tells Drake, “I’ll sort him out.”
Drake snaps out of whatever had him frozen staring at me and clears the space between us in three strides.
He goes to take my hand but refrains at the last second realising himself it is covered in blood and wraps his arm around my shoulders instead. He throws the pocket knife to Stan.
“Get rid of that will you. I’m taking my girl home, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he tells Stan over his shoulder and we make the short journey back to his flat.
I turn on the light in the hall when I unlock the front door and Drake’s hands startle me as I see the true extent of the damage under the blood. Both hands have doubled in size from the swelling.
“Sit on the couch and don’t move,” I order him and feel slight relief when he doesn’t argue about it.
I retrieve a bag of frozen peas from the freezer and wrap them up in a tea towel. He barely flinches when I spread it over both his hands as much as I can, no, he flinches when I look him in the eye and refuse to look away.
“I told you not to come out,” he grinds out.
The anger in his voice isn’t just from the fight, it’s because he is angry with me too.
“But I did,” I say, pressing the bag of peas down harder on his hands.
“You shouldn’t have seen that,” he argues, trying his best to control his anger.
“I’m the one who asked you to hurt him, I didn’t for one second assume you were going to follow him out and nothing was going to happen.”
“I didn’t want you to see me like that.” he rectifies.
“Is that what you’re worrying about? That I’ll think differently of you now?” I ask, astonished that he would presume that.
He scarcely looks at me before returning to studying the bag of peas. Silence fills the room and I remove the peas from his hands and use the damp towel to clean the blood off his hands, mainly the right hand but on the left his knuckles are split and are beginning to crust over.
“You should think differently of me, admit that you didn’t expect me to go that far? You thought I’d give him a kicking and then walk away, didn’t you?”
This time he is looking at me and the pressure from his gaze weighs me down.
“To be honest, I didn’t know what I was thinking. All I saw was him having a good time while we are hurting from what he caused.”
It was reckless and irrational but it happened and now I have to live with it and the little voice in my head is telling me that as long as Drake is okay I can live with it.
“Babe, I stabbed him. I stabbed him multiple times and I don’t feel anything. That’s the man I am. You’ve changed part of that because when I heard you call out my name all I could think of is how scared you must be of me now, but when it came to him I don’t feel anything, I’ll sleep tonight like a fucking baby without a second thought of him. But you, I’d lose sleep if I thought you were scared of me.”
“I wasn’t scared because of what you were doing, it scared me when you stumbled back because I thought you could hurt yourself.”
I cringe slightly when I hear how ridiculous I sound but it is the truth. I cringe a lot more when I hear him laugh.
“What’s so funny?” I huff.
“You are,” he laughs softer, “I can’t believe how lucky I am I met you. There aren’t a lot of women out there that wouldn’t freak out when they saw their guy stabbing another man.”
I shrug my shoulders thinking maybe I should be more concerned by my lack of compassion for what happened tonight but I don’t have it in me to care.
“He killed our baby, Drake,” I remind him, “He deserved everything he got. Like you, I will sleep soundly tonight and when I wake up tomorrow I’ll be happy because I’m lying next to you,” I promise him.
He leans forward and kisses me, I lean into him to deepen the kiss but when the bag of peas falls on my foot, I remember his hands need tending to.
“You’ll have to wait for that,” I chuckle, “I need to clean your hands up first.”
I set to work cleaning the blood off and bandaging his knuckles, when his right hand is finished he strokes my hair away from my face while I work on his left hand and think.
“Will he die?” I ask.
“As long as he holds out till the ambulance gets there, he should live.”
<
br /> “No one knows it happened, what if he isn’t found?”
Not that I care.
“Stan will call it in anonymously, I don’t want the fucker to die yet. He hasn’t suffered enough. As long as you’re suffering then he does too,” he tells me, flatly.
He watches me cautiously as if I am lying to him about being fine. I finish wrapping his left hand in bandages and begin to clear away the rubbish.
“It would’ve happened if you asked me to hurt him or not because of what he did to you, everyone around here knew he had it coming from the moment he fell on you,” he says, watching me.
Deep down I knew that. Marg’s warning about Drake being more dangerous because of me echoes in my mind on the first day I met her. The truth is, I feel more dangerous being with Drake and I like it. I remind myself tonight wouldn’t have happened if that guy hadn’t of fell on me. Our unborn child was a victim in another man’s fight, but there is no way I am going to let myself be a victim any longer. Drake is strong and I will be strong by his side.
I asked a lot from him tonight and not once did he hesitate. He knew what I needed and he didn’t fail to deliver.
Chapter Seven
The condensation glistens on the window pane as the early morning sun shines through on this freezing new day. Like I told Drake I would last night, I slept soundly. That only lasted for six hours and for the last hour and a half I have watched night turn to morning while recounting everything that happened last night. I see the anxiety written all over him that I am now scared of him but he couldn’t be further from the truth. I am scared, no, I’m terrified, but only of myself. I’m terrified because I have no guilt. The only thing I took away from last night was satisfaction. Never in my life would I think I would be in this position and now that I am, I feel a peace washing over me. I know right from wrong, of course I do but the injustice blows right and wrong out of the window somehow and I don’t care to think too deeply into it.
“Are you awake?”
I peel my eyes away from the window and turn around to face Drake. His soft snores have kept me company while I have been cataloguing last night.
“I am, how are your hands?” I ask.
“They’re fine, nothing I haven’t felt many times before,” he assures me.
A chill enters the room and I pull the cover higher over me while Drake lays with his bare chest out and his arm resting behind his head.
“Is your life always like this?” I ask him.
“Are you asking me if I stab people on a regular basis?” he snorts.
“No,” I kind of am though, “I mean violent?” I explain better.
He looks up to the ceiling and focuses before he answers, “Sometimes,”
I am about to ask another question but he carries on, “Around here, the slightest look can offend someone and a fight will follow. When someone’s girl is caught in a fight and gets hurt in the process, everyone expects what happened last night. Everyone in the pub will know it was me but no one will tell a soul. That’s how it works, it always has and always will. You stand up for yourself no matter the reason shit is kicking off and you never walk away, if you walk you put the biggest target on your back for anyone to take a pop at you. I built my reputation years ago, I have high levels for violence and a keen sense for making money and it has earned me respect with all the right people in my world and I have to maintain that to stay where I am.”
“Will you ever tell me how you make money?”
I have asked a few times before but he never gives me a straight answer.
“I’ll show you this afternoon, it might make it easier if you see for yourself.”
I shuffle closer and snuggle against his side and he rests his arm around me, trailing his fingers softly up and down on my back.
“I need you to promise me that we’re good, that what I did last night won’t come between us?” he says.
My eyes close briefly, I don’t like hearing the fear in his voice. I don’t hear it normally coming from him and I hate that the only time I do hear it is because of me.
“I promise we’re good, I love you Drake. In a fucked up way, it felt nice having someone actually go that far because of the pain I was in, trying to make it better for me.”
“I would go as far as you needed me to, you know that don’t you? You are the one part of me I can’t live without. I knew you were out there for me, I just wish I found you sooner.”
“I’m here now,” I smile up at him, “And I’m not going anywhere, as of now, last night never happened,” I vow.
“In that case, get your sexy arse in the kitchen and put the coffee on while I jump in the shower,” he laughs.
“Sure, but only because I want one too. Don’t think you can boss me around.”
I pick up a pair of leggings from the floor and slip into them as well as one of Drake’s hoodies. The heating hasn’t come on yet and walking through the flat gets colder and colder the further I get from the bedroom.
I switch on the new television Drake had brought over the other morning as I pass and set to work on the coffee machine, emptying the old coffee filter and preparing a new one. I get side-tracked with tidying the kitchen waiting for the percolator to finish when Drake saunters into the living room in only a towel.
“How are you not cold?” I ask, bemused by his lack of feeling to the cold.
He shrugs like it’s nothing and stops dead when he looks at the television.
He quickly scans the living room and starts pulling cushions off the sofa and lifting the magazines up on the small coffee table.
“Where’s the remote?”
I just had it, I look back to the kitchen counter top and throw it over to him.
He stands directly in front of the television blocking my view turning the volume up.
I hear a news reporter talking about a suspect who has been apprehended in connection with a robbery a few months ago.
I move next to Drake so I can see the screen. One half of the screen is of the woman reporter and the second half is a photograph of a man, their suspect.
Drake’s chest moves rapidly while he listens. I look back at the screen and it doesn’t take long before I think I recognise who the man is.
“Don’t you know him?” I ask Drake.
I swear I have seen him drinking in the pub a few times.
“Yeah, I’ve worked with him a few times,” he tells me, keeping his eyes on the television.
“What kind of work?” I ask, hesitantly.
“We might have to get away for a while, where do you want to go?” he asks, out of the blue.
“Go away? Why?”
He is already heading back to the bedroom and is pulling a case from under the bed and throws it on the covers by the time I catch him up.
“Pack your things, only what you can’t manage without,” he tells me, already half way through filling the case.
“Drake, tell me what is going on?” I scream.
His phone rings and instead of answering me, he answers his phone.
“Yeah?”
His body goes rigid and his eyes snap to mine.
“Are you sure?”
He pushes past me to look out of the window. He only merely peaks around the net curtain down to the street and then steps back. I go to look too but he stops me when he sees me heading for the window.
“How many are already in?” he asks whoever is on the other end of the phone.
“Shit,” he says, dragging his hand through his hair.
“Okay, thanks for the heads up.”
His eyes land on mine again and I hold his gaze for far too long, whatever is being said on the other end of the call is not good. “Just make sure no one takes advantage of her.”
This one sided conversation is driving me insane. As soon as he hangs up, he quickly shoves everything he just put in the case back in the drawers and slides the case back under the bed.
“Who was on the phone? And what is going on? Tell me
Drake!”
I am losing all patience now and the not knowing is making me nauseated.
“It was Stan, he is at the end of the street and in about five seconds the police are going to be banging down our door,” he spits out quickly pulling on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
“I thought you said no one would say anything about last night?”
I have been so fucking stupid, of course there would be consequences. I was completely ignorant to think otherwise. This place is just an illusion wrapped in a dark night sky covering the violence on the street. All an illusion.
“I haven’t got time to get into that now because they could be here because of anything, the list is endless babe. Now listen to me, when they take me away, a couple of them will probably stay behind to ask you questions. Say nothing, not a fucking word, are you listening to me?” he asks.
I nod quickly as the door sounds like it is being kicked in.
“We know you’re in there Drake, open up.”
We both look in the direction of the front door even though we are in the bedroom.
“Ignore them for a minute. When they take me away go straight to the café, Marg will help you, she’ll know what to do in case the worst happens.”
The worst? Call me naïve, but what could the worst possibly be at this point.
The banging on the door intensifies and the police threaten to knock the door in if he doesn’t answer in the next five seconds.
Drake quickly kisses me and leaves the room.
I trip over the clothes laying around on the floor in my haste to see what happens when he opens the door to the police and I make it just in time to see Drake step back and officer after officer file through into the small living room, all circling Drake unaware I am leaning against the wall on the edge of the room.
“It’s been too long, Detective Barnes. How have you been?” Drake asks one of the officers as if they are old friends.
To me, this amount of police in the flat is intimidating in all their uniforms and radio’s crackling, and searching through our stuff. When one of them sends message that they are in and have Drake, it makes it sound all that much more serious.
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