Cocky Flyboy by Susan Horsnell
MELISSA
After Tim left, I secured the door and slid the chain into place as I knew he expected. I’d sensed him hovering outside the door and smiled when I heard the clicking of his shoes on the tiles in the foyer as he walked away. He was satisfied I was secured in the apartment or as secure as I could be, considering the lack of meaningful security.
I pulled an instant meal of curried chicken with basmati rice from the refrigerator and placed it in the old but clean microwave. I had spent almost three hours on the day I’d moved in, scrubbing everything in the kitchen to within an inch of its life. I couldn’t afford to buy anything new, having fled with only the clothes on my back and four thousand dollars in cash, which I’d stolen. Cash I had used to put a roof over my head when I’d moved to Chicago to join National.
With my initial training as flight crew now complete and a steady pay packet due to come in, I was convinced it wouldn’t be long before I was on my feet. I had one month left on probation. One more month, and I could begin applying for somewhere better to live. I doubted I would take Tim up on his offer. Although I was tempted, it would be unfair for me to take advantage of his generosity and perhaps curb his lifestyle with the ladies.
After setting the timer on the microwave, I kicked off my shoes, and padded through to the bedroom to change into something more comfortable. Stripping out of my uniform, I laid it neatly on the bed, ready to hang in the tiny closet.
Being careful of how little money I had left, I had purchased pillows and linen as well as a thick mattress protector to shield me from the filth of God knew what. I’d then set about scrubbing the rusted iron bed frame and disinfecting everything in the room. The bed now looked pretty with the girly, pink and mauve floral color scheme.
Wearing only a bra and panties, I crossed to the bathroom to take care of business. Once done, I was in the process of crossing back to my bedroom when the door to the apartment crashed open. It hit the wall hard enough that the entire space shook.
I stood in the box hallway, staring straight into the cruel eyes of my ex… Lincoln Jamison. The man whose prisoner I had been since the age of seventeen. For eight years, he had kept me locked away. I froze in place as he stalked toward me, leering at my almost naked body. His right-hand man, best friend, and campaign manager–Justin, remained by the now closed door, feet spread, arms crossed over his chest. The expression on his face one of disgust.
My head was screaming at me to run, but my legs didn’t seem to want to get with the program. And where would I run to? The fire and anger in Lincoln’s eyes warned he wanted to kill me. How many times had he threatened to end my life if I dared leave him? Well, I’d dared, and somehow, he’d found where I was. I began to shake, and my knees threatened to buckle.
Lincoln was tall at six feet, four inches, muscular and fit due to his obsession with the gym. When he wasn’t working, that’s where he could be found. For an almost fifty-year-old, he was in incredible shape. As he stepped toe to toe with me, I found myself staring at his shirt-covered chest.
The microwave dinged, indicating supper was ready, but I no longer had an appetite. I felt sick. Sick with fear.
“Nothing to say, Rachel?”
Rachel was my real name. Rachel Kerrigan, a name I now hated. Since I’d left him, I’d become Melissa Hansen.
Lincoln reached out and grabbed my upper arm, shaking me like a rag doll. Tears burned my eyes, but I knew better than to let them fall. Lincoln became more violent if I cried or shouted out.
“I asked you a fucking question.”
“I’ve got nothing to say.” My voice was barely above a whisper.
His eyes darted around. “I can’t believe you gave up living with me to stay in this filth. I gave you everything !”
He spun me toward the bedroom, twisting my arm hard enough that the snap of the bone was audible. Despite the consequences, I cried out. That earned me a slap to the face, which left my cheek burning. I was slammed up against the wall, the back of my head hitting with such force I saw stars. My underwear was ripped from my body, and I braced myself for what would come next. Instead of what I expected, he held me in place with one hand around my neck and began throwing punches with the other. His face twisted in ugly anger.
Punch after punch pummelled my face and torso. I tasted blood in my throat and coughed. When he released me, I dropped to the floor, and the kicking began. It was interminable but eventually came to a blessed end.
“Don’t worry, I’m not here to take you back. I just wanted you to pay for stealing from me and being such an ungrateful bitch. You can rot in this squalor. But I’m warning you, if you say one word to anyone about me, I will find you. You can’t hide from me, Rachel. If I have to come back, I’ll kill you.”
Two more kicks to my ribs left me teetering on the edge of darkness and struggling for air. He stomped from the room and I heard the door slam as he left.
I needed help, but there was only one person in the city I knew. One person, I was ashamed to have to ask, but I had no choice. Crawling to the bed, I pulled the cell from the pocket of my skirt and called Tim. Pain assaulted my body while I waited to hear his voice. When there was no answer, I tried again. He answered almost immediately on my second attempt.
“Hello.”
I’d never felt such relief on hearing his voice.
“Help.” It was all I managed to whisper before the excruciating pain assaulting my body caused me to lapse into blessed unconsciousness.
****
“Melissa! Melissa! Can you hear me, honey?”
The voice was familiar and sounded close, yet far away. I didn’t want to be pulled back into the world where I felt nothing except overwhelming pain, but I was being drawn to the deep, rumbling voice.
I blinked my eyes open as far as I could; they felt weighed down. A sliver of Tim’s face came into view. Tears flowed from my eyes as I struggled to breathe through the pain.
“Thank God.” Tim sounded relieved; why should he care? He barely knew me. Was that him holding my hand? “Paramedics are here, honey. They’ve inserted an IV and are giving you something to help with the pain while they examine you.”
“Hi, Melissa. My name is Marjorie, one of the paramedics. My partner’s name is Christopher. We have immobilized your broken arm, and seeing the bruising on your chest, we’re pretty sure that you have broken ribs. We won’t know for sure until we get you to the hospital and run some tests. Are you having trouble breathing?”
“A little… blood.”
“You taste blood? You’ve sustained a terrible beating and it’s not unusual that you would taste blood. It’s probably caused by injuries behind your nose. Do you feel up to speaking with the police?”
“Yes.”
Tim moved aside but kept hold of my hand as a lady in a police uniform stepped up beside the bed.
“I’m Officer Sharon Bartlett, Melissa. My partner is Robyn Cassidy.” I could barely make out the other officer at the end of the bed. “Just a couple of questions, for now, we’ll speak to you further when you are feeling a little better.”
“Okay.”
The officer stood with a notebook and pen in her hand, ready to write down my answers to her questions. “Was your apartment broken into?”
“Yes.” I barely whispered; it was agony to speak. I felt like I was drowning. “One man.”
“What time was this?”
“Um, about 7.30-8. I’m not completely sure.”
“Do you know who it was?”
“No.”
“Can you describe him?”
I hesitated for a moment. “He was tall, blond hair, about forty years old, I think.”
“Anything else you can remember?”
“No, sorry.”
“If that’s all, we need to get her transported,” Marjorie insisted. “Christopher and I will lift you onto the gurney, Melissa, but first, I want to bandage your ribs. Do you think you could sit up with help?”
I nodded, hating the idea of moving.
Tim wrapped his arms around me, but as soon as I began to move, pain assaulted every bone in my body. It felt like I’d been on the wrong end of a battering ram. This was certainly the worst beating Lincoln had ever inflicted. I fought not to scream out, but the pain was too intense. Tim sat on the side of the bed, and swept me into his arms, I rested my head on his broad chest as I sobbed.
The paramedics waited patiently. Once I’d stopped crying, they lifted my tank top and made quick work of bandaging my damaged ribs. Tim then lifted me onto the gurney, and I was strapped in place.
“Can I please have something more for the pain?” I knew I was begging and wasn’t ashamed.
Marjorie did something with the IV and my head began to spin. I didn’t fight the urge of being pulled under and welcomed the dark abyss I descended into immediately.