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“What the hell are you doing in my apartment?!” I shriek, covering my chest with my arm. “And what are you doing in my bedroom?”
He turns his wild eyes to me, the smell of alcohol oozing from his pores. “You little slut,” he sneers. “I came up here to collect my money!”
“I told you I’ll pay you!” I exclaim.
“And then you have your little boyfriend or whoever the fuck he is threatening me and causing problems.” He approaches me and forces me to take a few steps back. “Since you haven’t paid me, I’ll have to get my payment in another way.”
“No!” I scream, but he’s faster than I expected. He grabs me and tosses me on my bed as if I weigh nothing, before his heavy body is pressing against mine. “Get off of me!”
“According to the other guys in the building, you’ve been giving away pussy all day,” he pants. I squeak in both surprise and pain when he effortlessly rips my panties from my body. I squirm underneath him as his rough fingers try to force my legs open. “Open your fucking legs, you whore.”
“Get off of me!” I scream, doing my best to buck against him, but he hardly budges. I sob when he forces his fingers inside of me, the friction sending slivers of pain throughout my lower body. I’ve never felt so helpless as I do in this moment. At least when I was at Purgatory, sex was a choice. But this wasn’t mychoice. All I can do is stare up at my popcorn ceiling and pray for this to be over soon. It’s this moment that I realize just how alone I am in this world. There’s no one around to save me. No one to look out for me.
I have no one.
I cry out in pain when he struggles to shove two fingers into my asshole. I squeeze every muscle I can as tight as I can to prevent him from breaching inside, but all it does it make things more painful.
“Please stop,” I whine, still pushing against him. But he ignores my pleas. He only removes his fingers long enough to reach into his sweatpants to pull out his pathetic cock.
“Shut up. I’ll be finished in a?—”
There’s a gush of cool air as he’s pulled off of me. Things happen so quickly that I don’t realize what’s happening for a moment. But then I see Tristan’s fists flying through the air and the sickening sound of crunching cartilage as he pummels my landlord in the head and face. I want to stop him before the cops get involved, but I can’t get myself to move. I only stare at them in shock as a million questions run through my mind. I don’t even know why he’s here, but I’ve never been so happy to see him.
“Okay! Okay!” my landlord shouts as he cowers on the floor.
Tristan jerks him up to his feet. I gasp when I see the blood running from his nose and lip. “Touch her again, and I’ll slit your fucking throat,” Tristan growls and pushes him away. “Get the fuck out of here before I change my mind and kill you anyway.”
The landlord scurries out of my bedroom and neither of us moves until the front door slams shut. Tristan’s eyes soften when he looks at me, and it takes me by surprise.
“You okay?” he asks.
The previous abrasiveness he’d displayed in the car is long gone. Now I see the Tristan I remember from all those years ago. I nod, still unable to form words. Silent tears stream down my face and relief washes over me.
He disappears into the living room, probably to lock the door. I hear the water running in the bathroom for a moment before he reappears back in the bedroom with a wet towel.
“Did he hurt you?” he asks.
I sniffle and shrug. “A little, but you stopped what was probably going to be the worst of it,” I murmur.
“Lie back for me.”
I do as he says and lean back, spreading my legs for him. He doesn’t say anything as he cleans me up, his gentle touch bringing fresh tears to my eyes.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice thick.
He pauses for a moment, but I can’t bring myself to look at him. He sighs into the silence and continues what he’s doing. “Do you want to go to the hospital or something?” He puts the damp towel on my nightstand and locks onto my gaze. “Or do you want to call the police and file a report?”
“I don’t want to make things worse,” I murmur.
My answer brings a frown to his lips. “What happened isn’t your fault,” he says, his voice stern. “He tried to take advantage of you, and he should pay for that.”
I chuckle without humor. “Like you did less than an hour ago?”
His hard features soften and I see something close to remorse flicker across his gaze. “I came back to apologize for that. I went a little overboard. I’m sorry.”
His apology catches me off guard and I really don’t know how to answer. Luckily he changes the subject back. “You want me to call the cops and report him?”
“But you can also get in trouble for beating him up.” I rub my forehead as a headache threatens to ignite.
