Cocking his fist, Simon threw a punch that connected hard with Glen’s face, just below the right orbital socket. It was a solid strike, though Glen was sure Simon pulled back a bit. For obvious reasons, he couldn’t bring Glen to a hospital.
Simon threw another punch to the head, but this blow Glen deflected. Instead of fighting back, Glen’s Pavlovian response kicked in. Box. Taser. Defend only. Wait it out. For the next volley, instead of going high, Simon went low. Glen had no idea what was coming. He went to the ground, moving his hands up to cover his face a split second before Simon’s kick sank into the fleshiest part of his abdomen. Glen gasped as air sprang from his lungs. He rolled to avoid Simon’s next attack, but couldn’t roll far enough and was kicked twice in the back. The sudden movement pulled on his ankle restraint, gouging out a chunk of his flesh.
Blood seeped from an open wound to Glen’s lower leg, setting a dark stain against his gray sweatpants. To avoid the next volley, Glen rolled onto his stomach, but Simon straddled him and threw more punches to the back of Glen’s head, grunting like a rabid animal as he landed blow after blow. Glen bucked and squirmed beneath Simon, trying desperately to worm his way out.
“Simon! Simon!” Glen said, pleading. “Stop! Please! Stop! What’s wrong? Talk to me. I can help.”
Simon panted, and his fist went back yet again, but this time, he didn’t throw the punch.
“You can’t help,” Simon said, softly and dejectedly. The fight was out of him. The storm had passed, or so Glen thought.
Simon stomped out of the box and over to the television. He hoisted up the TV, unmindful of the cord plugged into the wall, and with a grunt, lifted it over his head, his face clenched in anger. Glen cowered, shielding himself with his arms, afraid the appliance would become a projectile.
Simon had highlighted how this particular TV was glass-fronted, as if it were a selling point. Glen pictured shards of broken glass gouging out an eye as it crashed down on his head, but instead Simon brought his arms forward slowly, and set the television down gently. There was an audible exhale as Glen let go of his breath.
“You can’t help,” Simon said, crumpling to the floor, hiding his face in his hands.
Glen tried to clear away the blood pouring from his nose, managing only to smear it all over his face like war paint.
“Get me some bandages,” Glen said, lying facedown, panting hard. He used his stained mattress to soak up some blood. “Get me some bandages, and let’s talk. Let me help you figure it out, whatever it is.”
Simon went upstairs and returned with a first-aid kit, along with a paper cup of water. He spent several minutes cleaning Glen’s many wounds and applying bandages to all the injuries, including the gash to the ankle and a cut to his chin. The beard caught more of the blow flow, so Simon crumpled up the soiled bandage that wasn’t sticking anyway and tossed it aside. He gave Glen the cup of water. Sitting cross-legged on his blood-soaked mattress, sipping the water, Glen watched as Simon surveyed his handiwork.
“I’m sorry I went off on you like that. It was uncalled-for,” said Simon, slumping on the floor nearby.
Glen gingerly rubbed the back of his head, feeling the tender lumps that had formed. “Why did you attack me?”
“I was angry. Needed a release.”
The weather …
“What happened?”
“I’m not going to say.”
“Is it Nina?” Glen sounded panicky. “Is she all right? Maggie? Connor? Are they okay?”
“Yeah. They’re fine, Glen. Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt them.”
Glen considered Simon almost impassively. “You know I don’t believe that’s true,” he said. “You can’t control yourself. Look at what you did to me.” He pointed to his numerous injuries. “You’re a sick man. You need help.”
For a moment there, Simon looked like he was about to agree. “Nina’s seeing a therapist,” he said in a low voice.
Glen was taken aback. He had expected so much worse. “What’s wrong with that? She’s been through a lot.”
“No, you don’t get it. She’s talking about me. I know it. She’s talking about me and she’s going to leave me.”
Glen understood that would be the worst decision for everyone. It was strange for him to want Simon with his wife, sleeping in his bed, to be a part