Page 29 of Saving Grace

Before I could make my feet move, he jumped up from the seat from behind my desk and grabbed my arm in a vice grip. He reared back; his fist connected with my soft belly. I doubled over in pain. I could barely catch my breath and my insides felt like they’d been set on fire.

That was the hardest I’d ever been hit in my life; I was sure something would be damaged. I watched from my bent over position as he started pacing above me. I tried to think of how I could get myself out of this mess, but the pain made it too hard to think straight.

“You’re going to fucking tell me the truth. The entite fucking truth, then I’m going to kill you, then kill that motherfucker who put his dick in you.

He actually had the fucking nerve to put his dick in my wife.” He roared causing me to jump, “and you let him,” he turned and glared at me. “You dirty fucking bitch, you let him.”

He charged at me and I couldn’t move quick enough. He grabbed a handful of my dreads and jerked my head back. His other hand went to my exposed neck, he squeezed and because I already could barely catch my breath from the punch— it immediately became hard for me to pull air into my lungs.

“I’m sorry, I had to.” I wheezed out, hoping he would let me go.

He paused. “You didn’t have to do shit, you are lying bitch, you enjoyed fucking that white boy. How long y’all been fucking?” He let my neck go so I could answer.

“That’s the first time I swear.”

He shook his head. “Fucking lying, bitch.” He balled his fist and punched me directly in the face. My vision blurred, I was dazed but I knew I had to at least try to fight back, so I did. I threw a punch to his face that caused him to let my hair go. He stepped back and stared at me in surprise, before he charged me again, I was ready though. I bent low and ran into his midsection. Ironically, I’d learned to tackle pretty well because of my friendship with Atticus.

Marcus’ back hit the floor hard, he groaned and his hands went to his head. I kneed him in his dick and then I jumped up and kicked him in his face. To make sure he stayed down a while longer, I brought my sneaker-covered foot down on his ankle as hard as I could. I turned and ran as fast as I could in pain towards the door. I was almost free; the door was mere inches away. He caught the back of my shirt, ripping it halfway from my body.

No!” I yelled becoming frantic.

I was able to snatch free and open the door. I ran down the street and towards my car yelling like a monster was after me, which wasn’t exactly untrue. It was only six in the afternoon so my hysterics drew all types of attention, but that didn’t stop Marcus from following me. His footfalls fell in sync with mine. I hopped in my car and locked the door.

Marcus banged on my window as soon as he reached my car.

I could not drive off. The keys were back in the office. I slammed my hand against the steering wheel.

Marcus drove his fist into my driver’s side window. It shook but didn’t break.

“I’m going to kill you stupid bitch.”

“Hey, I’m calling the police.” A woman yelled from across the street. That seemed to bring him back to reality. He straightened. His eye darted around before coming back to me. He shot me an icy expression that chilled the blood in my veins before running away. When he turned the corner I opened the door and headed back to the shop. I needed my money and my keys.

I ignored everybody who tried to help me and those who stood back and watched me limp towards the shop.

I hurried in and unlocked the safe, it hurt like hell to bend to put the code in. I gritted my teeth and got it done. After pulling out stacks of cash. I grabbed the bag Marcus had thrown at me from the floor and stuffed the money and other paperwork I might need. I picked up my fake ID's and put those back in the purse too. I found my keys hanging from the backdoor lock. Less than five minutes passed before I was leaving. I could hear sirens wailing in the distance. I sped walked to my car, started it, and peeled out.

I drove a block before I realized no matter how hard I tried; I couldn’t catch my breath. My breaths grew shallow. I coughed, hard, blood and spittle decorated my white steering wheel cover. My head swam.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to drive much longer.

Pulling over into the parking lot of a nearby Wal-Mart. I started crying, I cried until the urge to throw up came over me, I opened the car door and leaned out just in time. Blood-tinged vomit spilled out of me. I felt myself becoming lightheaded, then everything started to fade. Just before the world went black I heard a car pull up behind me. I panicked thinking it was Marcus and he’d followed me. “Ma’am, are you ok?” The voice didn’t belong to Marcus. The past couple of days had been too much. I was tired and so relieved I let my eyes slide closed, I allowed myself to rest…

Atticus

Five months later

Pure will kept me rooted in my place at the altar as Sophie walked down the aisle towards me. Or maybe it was my obligations to my grandfather that weighted me to the floor and kept me from walking away when everything in me wanted to run.

I wanted to find Grace and live the rest of my life loving her, but then the voice in my head roared “fuck Grace,” even though my heart and soul wanted her, my brain couldn’t reconcile with the fact that she’d left me, not even hours after we’d found each other again.

Most importantly she’d broken her promise to.

Obviously, she didn’t give a fuck about me and her actions had shown me that, but like a lovesick fool I’d still been searching for her.

For five months every time the investigator called me with nothing new, I’d become angrier. I knew it was irrational to be angry with her, I couldn’t control her life, but she’d promised she’d stay and breaking that promise had left me fractured.

My grandfather snapped his fingers from the front pew of the church, bringing my attention to him. “Smile,” he mouthed at me. He himself wore the only biggest smile I'd ever seen on his face, a smile so big it made his face look as if it would crack and it was genuine and unnerving coming from a man that many calledIl Macellaio, The Butcher.

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