I Can Be Your Hero

I bit back the scream of pain forming in my throat as the doctor set my arm.

“Now how did this break happen again?” he asked, peering at me from over silver rimmed glasses.

“I fell down the stairs,” I lied, and I could see that the doctor didn’t believe me.

“Miss…you have a rather bad black eye as well…it looks like you were attacked,” the doctor said, and I immediately became defensive.

“I take martial arts classes and I got hit,” I snapped, daring the doctor to question me further with my eyes. The doctor sighed heavily before beginning to cast my arm. I prayed that Patrick hadn’t called the police; Damien would be so much worse when I went home if he received a visit from the cops. A few hours later I signed myself out of the hospital and found myself face to face with an anxious looking Patrick. I brushed by him and went to get into a cab, but he grabbed my uninjured arm gently and pulled me away from the cab.

“You aren’t thinking about going back there are you?” he asked, concern written all over his face.

“I have to Patrick…Damien will find me if I don’t, and he’ll be a lot worse if I don’t go back than if I do go back,” I said firmly before pulling myself out of his grasp. I could hear him swear under his breath as I got into the cab, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him as the cabbie pulled away.

Patrick’s Point of View

I paced back and forth for about ten minutes before deciding to head back towards Elizabeth’s apartment. She had been very clear that her boyfriend would hurt her more if she didn’t go back, but I didn’t want to just let her go and face him by herself. I barely knew her, but I felt like I had to do something to help her, so I drove slowly up to her apartment building and crept up the stairs. I paused a few feet away from the door to her apartment and listened carefully.

“Where were you?” I heard her boyfriend ask.

“I went to the hospital…I had to get my arm fixed,” Elizabeth said briskly. I heard someone sweeping up broken glass, and I felt anger rise in my chest. I knew that it was her cleaning up the mess.

“Did you tell them what happened?” he growled.

“No…I told them I fell,” she said calmly.

“Did they buy it?” he asked.

“Yeah, they did,” Elizabeth replied, and I heard him grunt in approval. After lingering for almost an hour, I decided that things would be okay for now and I headed back to my own apartment to make a very important phone call.

“Hello?” Jon asked groggily, and I checked the clock. It was almost 2 AM.

“Hey…I need some help,” I said, and I heard Jon sigh heavily.

“Please don’t tell me you’re in prison,” he groaned sleepily, and I rolled my eyes.

“No…it isn’t even about me really,” I said before launching into the Elizabeth story. Jon grunted in acknowledgement every once in a while, which was really the only sign I had that he was even awake.

“And he broke her fucking arm man! What should I do?” I finished about a half hour later.

“Let me get this straight…you met her randomly on the street one night, and then at a diner, and then at a grocery store? And then you went out for a drink, noticed a black eye, and she freaked out and left? And then she asks if you can talk, you call, hear someone beating her up, get to her apartment as quickly as you can, beat the shit out of her scumbag boyfriend, take her to the hospital, and then she bails again? It sounds to me like this is a regular thing Pat. I don’t know much about domestic violence, but I know that usually women kind of try to stick it out. I don’t know why, but they’re terrified to leave,” Jonathan said, and I flopped back onto my bed, my head spinning.

“She said something like she knew that if she left he’d find her and hurt her worse…do you think he would?” I asked.

“I don’t know. He’s crazy enough to beat up a woman for no reason, so why wouldn’t he hunt her down if she left him?” Jon said.

“Jon…I can’t just act like nothing happened and leave her to fend for herself,” I said.

“Pat, I know that the situation is messed up, but don’t get a hero complex. You don’t want to get mixed into this too much…what if the guy comes after you and tries to kill you or something?” Jon said after a few minutes.

“Let him try. He can’t even fight!” I scoffed.

“Pat…don’t do anything stupid alright?” Jon said.

“Alright,” I said before hanging up. I decided that there was no way I was going to be able to sleep soundly, so I headed into the kitchen to take a few shots of vodka before heading off to bed. I was finally able to fall asleep when the alcohol began creating a pleasant buzz in my system, and I barely realized that my phone had rung as my eyes slipped shut.