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He glances around the crowded hall and says nothing as he turns his furious gaze back to Sam. Everyone in the school has now stopped to watch the scene.
“Do you think you’re tough?” Sam asks as she shoves him as hard as she can again, “Beating up your girlfriend makes you feel like a badass?” Another shove. “I think you’re just a coward. An abusive fucking coward!” She loses her control now, what little she had, and pummels him again and again. Every punch she lands makes his anger more and more intense, but she won’t stop until he’s crying on the floor, “You piece of shit! I can see your fingers around her throat!”
Something in him, likely his self-preservation in front of a crowd, snaps as he shoves Sam off him. The entire student body gasps. She flies backward and crashes into a pile on the floor, but comes right back up fighting. He draws his fist back, ready to slam it into her face, wanting to completely obliterate her existence, but Willow is there now to save her. She wraps her arms around Sam’s waist, pulling her flailing body away from him until they are separated by a crowd of stunned classmates, Sam still screaming out her hate for him until he is long out of sight.
You’ll get a paper cut from every piece of paper you ever touch. Every time you speak in public, you will wet your pants. You’ll wake up with a headache every single day. Your clothes will always be damp. You’ll always have a rock in your shoe. You’ll never stop getting kidney stones lodged in your tiny, little penis. Every single person you meet will see you for what you are. Life will give you exactly what you deserve and nothing more.
The craft is only supposed to be used for good. Do no harm and all that, but the hexes fly from Willow’s mind like shards of glass looking for his flesh to cling to. All of her physical strength is tied up in holding Sam back, but her mind is singularly focused on delivering him to the miserable future he has earned for himself. She can barely even hear Sam’s slurs also being thrown at him as he stalks out of the building.
“Filthy, fucking, disgusting asshole! I can’t wait to see you get back exactly what you did to her!” Sam’s words fly at his retreating back.
Willow squeezes her friend, trying to give her all the love she can, “Sam, he’s gone.”
Turning to Willow with crazed eyes, Sam asks frantically, “Have you seen her? Have you seen what that piece of shit did to her?! Did you see the bruises?!”
“No, she had on long sleeves,” Willow replies.
“Must have had on a full-body suit because she is covered. She has his fingers bruised around her throat. Willow, she’s broken. He broke her.” Sam is yelling through her tears now.
“No, he didn’t break her. I refuse to believe he has the power to do that,” and Willow truly did know that was true. As she gazes past Sam, she sees Callie watching them and listening with concern. When their eyes meet, some kind of secret passes between them and Callie rushes out the door to leave. Willow doesn’t know why or how, but she knows Callie is going to help. She turns her attention back to Sam, “Listen, it’s going to work out somehow. Where’s Em? We’ll make her okay again.”
Callie had her friend, Garrett, on the phone the second she was out of the building. He is now riding shotgun beside her as they fly down back roads at a rate of speed no dirt road was made for. He looks over-sized in Callie’s tiny sports car. His six foot four inch frame fills the space almost completely and his college football bulk leaves the seat belt straining to contain him.
Garrett lost his mom to domestic violence when he was fourteen and now he often volunteers at the same women’s shelter as Callie on the weekends. He is gentle and kind, but he is also very large and hates abusers passionately. He’s a good ally to have when trying to keep a monster at bay.
Gravel flies as Callie whips the tiny car into what she hopes is the right driveway. She had to sweet talk it out of the high school secretary and isn’t entirely sure it’s correct. Callie raced to get here as fast as humanly possible in hopes of beating him here or beating Emily here at the very least. Then Garrett could take care of the monster. Thankfully, as she puts the car in park, there is no sign of that red Road Runner anywhere in sight and something just tells her he isn’t here yet. Callie is certain that he is so despicable she can feel his black soul permeate the air when he’s near. Emily isn’t here yet either, but instead of a sigh of relief Callie feels apprehension in her heart. Did he beat her here? Could he have already gotten Emily? Was she too late? Callie would have just taken Emily with her from school but fear has a paralyzing affect. She can’t imagine what he would do if he saw the two of them together without the overwhelming male presence of Garrett by their side. She is certain the extra ten minutes it took to pick up Garrett were the only way to ensure she and Emily both survived this day, but her stomach twists in knots at the idea that she is too late.
Seven agonizing minutes later, another car pulls into the driveway. Slowly, it approaches until it is close enough for Callie to recognize Emily in the passenger seat next to Ms. Latimer, their English teacher. Callie’s heart soars seeing Emily safe. The two in the car chat briefly, share a hug, and Emily climbs out of the vehicle to stand awkwardly staring at Callie.
“You’re here,” she whispers.
Callie smiles, “I wouldn’t be anywhere else if I could.”
Emily smiles a little, but slumps her shoulders and wraps herself in her own arms, seemingly trying to make herself smaller, “Who’s he?”
“This is Garrett,” Callie nudges him with her elbow, “He’s my muscle.”
Emily crosses the distance between them and wraps her arms around Callie, “Thank you.”
Callie can hear the tears in her voice and hugs her back just as tight, “No thanks needed. We’re in this together from here on out. I promise.”
Emily is the only child of two parents that probably never should have had children. They are rarely home and never seem to notice or acknowledge her presence. She is the essential latch key kid and really had no plan of how to stay safe after leaving school, but knew she had to leave anyway.
Convincing Ms. Latimer to take her home had been easy when she had noticed the bruises around Emily’s wrists. Quickly, though, as they made their way to her isolated farmhouse home, Emily had begun to fret and worry that he would be there waiting to finish the job he started last night. She was terrified and running over options in her head. She could ask Ms. Latimer to take her somewhere else. Call the police to meet her at home. Fling open this car door and throw herself from the moving vehicle to avoid any further questions from anyone about what she had brought on herself.
But then she saw Callie and Callie’s enormous friend and knew she was going to be okay. She suddenly knew she had a new friend who truly understood what her life had become.
Now, the two young women sit side by side in Emily’s bed, Emily tucked into Callie’s motherly embrace, anxiously awaiting his arrival as they are all certain he will show up. Twenty-five minutes in, he does not disappoint. Climbing up the tree next to her bedroom, he makes his way across the roof and to the window. Garrett places himself as a wall of strength directly between the monster and the women he victimized.
“You’re not welcome here, man,” Garrett states in a deep, matter of fact tone. The words seems to smack the intruder in the face.
He never expected Garrett’s or anyone else’s presence aside from the battered girl he thought he could control. Facing off with someone stronger, bigger, and unwavering is not something he has ever had to do. He nearly slips and falls from the roof in his shock and awe.
It’s a pity he didn’t fall, Emily thinks to herself. At least then he couldn’t hurt anyone else.
Looking past Garrett, he barks at Emily, “Who the fuck is this? And why is that crazy cunt here?”
Emily refuses to even acknowledge his existence and Callie shifts her position to place herself in front of Emily.
