Trying Not To Love You - Amabile Giusti Page 0,109
all dark, he’s turned off his headlights and he’s holed up who knows where, and it’s ten minutes before I find them, but then suddenly there they are – didn’t Grant get the memo that he needs a less conspicuous car if he wants to hurt people in it?
I park and get out. I notice some movement inside the car and hear voices. At first it just seems like they’re getting busy, but I know that’s not the whole story. And then I hear the girl scream, and not out of pleasure. I think of Penny, who may have screamed in the same way, and I open the door. The asshole didn’t even lock the door on his side. I am certain, however, that there will be no escape from her side.
I open the door to a predictable scene. The woman is terrified, dishevelled, sweaty: her eyes are huge, and she’s looking confused. The asshole has his cock out, limp as a worm, and the expression of a pervert. OK, now I’m really gonna take care of him.
I grab him by the collar and pull him out of the car with one hand. I don’t think, I don’t reason, don’t calculate the possible consequences: if I kill him, I end up back in prison, and if I beat him to within an inch of his life, I’ll do time for that too, but I don’t give a fuck right now, I just want to make him pay. For Penny. For this woman I don’t even know. For my mother. For all the women forced to accept advances they don’t want.
I slam him against the car and start laying into him. He doesn’t even try to defend himself, at most just kicks a little, terrified, bewildered, and he may even be pissing his pants. The woman gets out of the car, her make-up all smudged by her tears, panic in her eyes. She stares at me in silence, and for a moment I think I see Penny: Penny begging me to stop, like she did at the bar; Penny taking my arm and restraining it.
Then unexpectedly I stop. Anger evaporates from my body like a gas. As soon as I release my grip, Grant falls to the ground like a deflated balloon, reeking of piss and sweat. He no longer looks like some fake prince. He looks like a beat-up piece of shit. I leave him there, like the heap of trash he is, and turn to the woman. ‘D’you want me to take you to the hospital?’
She whispers a weak ‘no’, and then adds, ‘Home, I want to go home.’
She gets into my car voluntarily and without suspicion, and I stifle the urge to lecture her about trusting the wrong people – even one who may have saved her skin. But I don’t say a word because I’d scare her and she’d think I want to hurt her too. I look more the type than Grant. She’s silent the whole way home, pulling at her cheap skirt, her hands on her knees, staring straight ahead at the road. She shows me where to stop, and when she gets out of the car she staggers, like a doll with a broken leg.
‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ I ask her again.
‘Yeah, I’m fine.’
‘Do you have anyone at home to be with you?’
‘My mom.’
‘Go on then. I’ll wait until you get in.’
She nods and starts to walk towards the door. After two steps she stops, returns, and bends to speak to me through the open window. ‘Are you an angel?’ she asks me.
Penny asked me the same question the first time we met, in the darkness of the staircase. No, I’m not an angel. Never have been. There’s nothing angelic about my life – I’m more of a fucking devil. But I don’t say anything, just shoot her a vague smile as she walks off. I leave her with the illusion that I’m some kind of protective spirit, a good one, even if I’m only made of hatred and revenge.
But maybe that’s not all I’m made of. There’s also love – an unexpected, violent love that I hadn’t expected to find. Totally different from what I feel for Francisca. New and dangerous, because it makes me feel vulnerable, like a soldier without weapons or a shield. I finally let the feeling inside of me and into my messy life; I welcome it in and now it’s here to stay.