Fight, Jamiee - Ellie R. Hunter Page 0,18
“I guess I could hand it in to a security guard, if you’re sure it’s not yours.”
“I’m sure. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have shit to sort out.”
I think he’s even angrier now, and I don’t want to leave knowing I’ve made her situation worse. The amount of times I’d wished someone would intervene when Deacon had lost his temper—which was all the time—no one ever did, though he never showed that side of himself in front of anyone but me.
“Okay, the ten dollars is mine. It was a bullshit lie to get you to stop assaulting this woman. It’s clear you were hurting her, and she doesn’t want to be near you.”
He glares up at me, causing a shiver to shoot down my spine.
“Fuck you. You don’t know anything.”
He’s so cold and hostile, but it’s to be expected when I’m calling him out.
“I know what I saw, and if you don’t walk away and leave her alone, I’ll scream for help. And, so help me, I will mace you and call the cops. You’re in a fucking mall with cameras everywhere, dickhead.”
I shouldn’t be doing this, seeing as he could do anything to me in return. I don’t know him or how far he’ll go, but I’m pissed.
I’m pissed I let Deacon hurt me for so long, and I’m pissed this guy thinks he can hurt this woman in broad daylight, in the middle of a busy shopping mall, and get away with it. I’m just pissed.
Shooting to his feet, he looks around for said cameras, like he forgot where he was, or maybe he just didn’t care.
Looking down at the woman, he warns, “This isn’t over.” She flinches so hard, I feel it.
In his haste to leave, he kicks his chair over, and the young woman jumps in her seat.
“You didn’t need to do that. It’ll only make him angrier when he shows up at my job this afternoon.”
She sounds so young. I slip onto the chair at the next table to give her some space. “Not if you come to the police station with me.”
She’s shaking her head vehemently before she cries, “No, no, I can’t do that. It’s easier just to let him get it out of his system and calm down.”
I understand why she’s acting this way, but it only infuriates me, not her. It infuriates me because this is exactly what I thought to myself when Deacon would lose his temper with me.
Digging around in my purse, I grab the tissues and scrub the concealer off. It hurts, but my anger’s taking the sting out of it.
“Men like him never change. They’ll never love us the way we want to be loved. The only way we can be happy is to get help and stay away from them.” I point to my eye. “This is the last time a man marks my skin. I should’ve gone to the police long before now, and I’m going today—now. You should come with me.”
This woman—a complete stranger to me—has made my mind up. I never thought for one moment I was the only woman being abused by a man, but seeing someone else vulnerable and hurting at the hands of one is triggering me. It has to stop.
“You don’t even know me, so why are you trying to help?”
“I reckon we can help each other. Besides, you don’t have to know someone to do the right thing.”
Taking a moment to think on it, she reaches down for her purse and sliding her chair back and stands up. Her dark hair is pulled back in a ponytail, her heart-shaped face so open, you can read her every emotion. She’s scared, but above all else, she’s determined. Together, we can set ourselves free.
“I’ve always believed in destiny, so yes, I’ll come with you. You’ve come into my life today for a reason.”
I stand and hold my hand out. “I’m Jamiee Coleman. I’m glad I met you today.”
“Natasha Green, and likewise.”
Shaking hands, I go to withdraw, but she tightens her hold, and that’s how we travel to the police station—hand in hand. If that’s what she needs to help get her through this, it’s the least I can do. To be honest, it’s helping me too. Even without any conversation during the cab ride, just being with her, both of us feeling the same things, is so different from sitting around with Damon and the guys.
The station’s busy when we arrive half an hour later. I wasn’t expecting it