Page 1 of Battered & Broken
1
CEDRIC
I didn't know what time it was, but it didn’t really matter.
Sitting in the corner of my couch with my thighs pressed to my chest, I just wanted the night to be over. There was a clock on the wall by the front door, but looking at it required moving my head, and I wasn't ready to do that yet.
The paramedics had already come and gone after asking me a million questions. They wanted to take me to the hospital, but I refused to go. I knew what was wrong and how to fix it. I just didn’t have the strength to do it on my own.
I didn’t know how to be on my own.
My apartment was full of people I didn't know, and it was starting to freak me out. So many strangers moving through the space where I lived and taking pictures of my walls made me feel invisible. I kinda wanted to be invisible.
Someone had put a blanket over my shoulders at some point, but it slid off, and I didn’t bother fixing it. Why would I? Being a little chilly was the least of my problems.
One of the officers crouched in front of me with a notepad and a sad smile. "Mr. Allen. You hanging in there?"
I looked at him and sighed. “Yeah.”
“Can I ask you to tell me what happened one more time? I just want to make sure I didn’t miss any details?”
“I guess.” I'd gone through every detail of the attack several times already, and each time I said the words out loud, they felt less like something that happened to me and more like something I'd read about or watched on TV.
When he was finally satisfied that my story wasn’t changing, he went over to his partner while I put my forehead on my knees and did my best to tune everyone out. Eventually, they’d leave too, and I’d have some decisions to make.
Most likely, bad ones. Those were my specialty.
After a few minutes, there was a knock at the door. It was already open, so the newcomer was asking permission to enter rather than barging in like everyone else. I lifted my head, afraid it was Mitch coming back to finish me off.
A man stood in the doorway who wasn’t in a uniform or flashing a badge. It took a moment for me to realize where I'd seen him before. He lived in the apartment at the end of the hall, the one facing mine. We passed each other at the mailboxes and in the elevator, but I wasn’t sure we’d ever said a single word to each other.
But now I couldn’t remember why I’d never even tried to flirt with him.
He was attractive and had a face that was trustworthy and kind. But that was my answer right there. I didn’t go for nice guys whotreated me like a human. I went for assholes who used me and abused me.Literally.
But it was getting old. I was getting old. Not in age but in fight. I just didn’t have it in me anymore. Finding the meanest-looking guy in the bar and seducing him used to be fun. A challenge. Whether it ended up with me smashed up against a dirty bathroom wall…or with my nose smashed against a fist, it gave me something to focus on.
An outlet to feel seen.
An opportunity for attention.
But those days were over. I was done.
My neighbor stayed in the doorway, not particularly shocked by what had happened and by the streaks of blood across my cheek, neck, and shirt. “Can I come in?”
His eyes were on me, so I just nodded. No reason to keep him out. No reason for him to be here, but it wasn’t my business. At least, I didn’t think it was until he came to the couch and sat down beside me.
What the hell was he doing?
I waited for him to say something, but he didn't. He just sat there with his forearms on his knees, looking at the same wall I'd been looking at.
After a few minutes, the officer came back and hooked his thumbs in his belt as he stood over me. "Mr. Allen, we need you to come down to the station tonight to get your statement on record. Is that something you're able to do?"
“I guess.” I sighed and threw my feet off the couch. Not like I had anything better to do.
My neighbor stood first and put out his hand to help me up.
Instinctively, I grabbed it because my legs weren’t quite working correctly. “Thanks.”
