I take a step forward, expecting that this is the end of it. But it’s not. Jeff grabs the hair on top of the guy’s head and slams his head back into the wall.
Bile rises in my throat as I watch Jeff kick him repeatedly, continuing even though the guy is on the ground, curled up in the foetal position.
He seems too still, and I hope to god that he’s just passed out. “Jeff!” I call out, trying to grab his attention and make him stop. “Jeff!”
He pauses and looks over his shoulder at me, his face dark and stormy. It scares me.
The young guy is covered in blood and laying fairly still on the concrete at his feet. Jeff turns back to him, kicks him in the kidneys one last time, then spits on him.
“He’s all yours,” he says calmly, and I notice that the bouncer from the back door is standing not far from us. The bouncer nods once and watches as Jeff strides toward me and ushers me into his car as if this is a normal occurrence. “Let’s go.”
I’m slightly frozen and stumble as my feet refuse to move at the speed Jeff is dragging me, which only seems to make him more furious. He opens the passenger door and deposits me, roughly, inside. I just manage to get my feet tucked safely inside when he slams the door and stalks his way over to his side of the car.
We drive home in complete silence. I have no idea what I should do or say. I don’t think that he’s capable of hurting me, but I can’t be sure. Honestly, I never thought he’d beat that guy up the way he did. He just didn’t seem the type to me.
The moment we arrive home. I reach for my door handle to get out. “Wait,” he commands. So I do.
He gets out of the car and stands a few metres away, making phone calls while I wait quietly in the car. I can see him running his hand back and forward over his head as he speaks, and as much as he is scaring me, I can’t help but admire how strong and attractive he is. It saddens me that someone I’ve only known to be kind and giving can have such a dark side to them.
After almost half an hour, he comes over and opens my door, holding his hand out for me to take. He still isn’t smiling. His anger is rolling off him in waves, but he seems to be in quiet control.
I take my cue from him and place my hand in his without speaking, without smiling. I make eye contact and try to silently tell him that everything will be ok. But I don’t really know that do I? I mean, what if he’s really hurt that guy?
Once inside, he closes and locks the door, still holding my hand as he does. I simply stand by, waiting and watching, unsure of what I should do right now.
I’m standing between him and the door, and he edges closer to me, pressing me, pinning me, between him and the cool wood. He reaches up and wraps his hand around my jaw, so his thumb is on one cheek, and his fingers are on the other. He tilts my head up and meets my eyes.
His are searching, challenging, but I hold his gaze and keep my breath steady. After what seems like an age, he crushes his mouth against mine, kissing me fiercely as if he’s trying to somehow absorb me.
One hand snakes around my waist and pulls me tightly against him, while the other grabs tufts of my hair at the base of my skull and tugs. Still holding me tightly, he walks us over to the dining room table then spins me around so he’s behind me. His kisses and heavy breathing move along my jaw and neck, and turn into firm sucks, then painful bites.
I close my eyes tightly and breathe. I just need to keep calm.
He pulls my shirt over my head and drops it on the floor, his hands curling around me to knead at my breasts. There is nothing gentle about what he is doing, but even though I’m afraid, I’m walking that fine line between wanting to stay and wanting to run.