Esme
My heart is beating so hard. For a few moments, it’s all I can hear.
I try and block out the sound, but there’s an internal conflict raging in my head.
I can’t help her. I’m nine months pregnant.
But she’s your friend.
I have no friends. I have only my child. And my child always comes first.
You told her who you are. You trust her.
He’s too big, too strong, too powerful, too dangerous.
You’ve handled men like him before. You’ve killed men like him before.
Exactly. And I left that life behind. I don’t want to be a murderer.
Even if the man out there deserves to be murdered?
But my baby…
Can you live with yourself if you stand here silent while Sara gets raped out there?
…
No. No, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.
I open my eyes. My hands have fallen over my belly protectively. I hear Sara’s muffled scream and I know without having to look that he’s clamped his hand down over her mouth.
I look around the bathroom desperately, searching for something I can use as a weapon. There’s nothing that immediately jumps out at me, but I know I have to move fast.
I notice the ugly blue weight next to the bathroom door. Marni uses it prop the door open after she cleans the bathroom and wants some ventilation. I grab it, slightly comforted by its weight in my palm. I slip out of the bathroom without making a sound.
Noise from dining area spills down the cramped hallway even through the shut door. I can hear Eagle Tattoo’s goons laughing and throwing their weight around. The clink and clack of silverware. The low pop music that plays all day long.
I ignore it all as I tiptoe close to where Eagle Tattoo has Sara pushed up against the wall. His face is buried in her neck, snuffling like a wild animal.
Her skirt is pushed up around her hips, his hand wedged between her thighs. The sight turns my stomach and strengthens my resolve.
I’m scared.
But I have to do something. I have to fight.
I’m stronger than I look, you know.
I lift the weight up over my head with both hands. Sara turns and sees me over the bastard’s shoulder at the last second. Her cheeks are tearstained, her expression terrified, but hope flickers across her face.
I bring the weight down hard, as hard as I can. The edge of it cracks against the back of Eagle Tattoo’s head with a wet, nasty noise. His hands slacken at once around Sara’s wrists.
But I can’t see his face.
Have I struck a fatal blow or have I just succeeded in pissing him off?
I’m not gonna be able to fight him in my condition.
Oh, God, what have I done, little bird…?