The moaning coming from her bedroom got louder and louder. Every couple of minutes, there was the sound of a slap and she cried out.
He quietly seethed on the other side of the wall they shared. It was an old house — couldn’t she have the decency keep it down?
Every sound from her was like a razor blade across his heart.
He loved her.
He had never told her this, of course. How do you tell your roommate that you’re in love with her? The thought terrified him. He wanted to be the one holding her, making love to her. He wanted that desperately. It tore at him.
But he couldn’t. He couldn’t bear to tell her.
The best he could do was treat her like the goddess she was. She was beautiful, pure and perfect. Everything he could ever want in a partner. Their conversations flowed easily and naturally. She laughed at his jokes. They kept a good house together.
Except… he shuddered as another scream pierced the wall.
Except nights like these, when her boyfriend was over.
That asshole.
He didn’t see what she saw in that guy.
He had caught only snippets of their relationship; mostly he saw them walking through the apartment to her bedroom. Tonight he had his hand on the back of her neck, and he was guiding her down the hall. She looked flushed, her dewy lips swollen. He moved her like he owned her.
It was disgusting, the way he touched her. And judging from the sounds coming through the wall, it wasn’t a gentle touch.
How could she tolerate it?
She was an angel, who deserved everything nice and good. He could give her what she deserved. He would never lay a violent hand on her.
His molars crunched as another volley of moans and slaps assaulted his ears.
He couldn’t stand this. This was wrong. He imagined her curled into the corner of the room, trying to dodge his blows. No, he wouldn’t stand for this.
She didn’t deserve this.
He stood in front of her closed bedroom door. The sounds were much louder here; he could hear her quiet pleading and the bass notes of her boyfriend’s voice, although nothing was clear.
He stood there for longer than was probably right, listening. Then he noticed the keyhole.
It was an old building, and even though they both had modern keyed locks, there was still an ancient keyhole in the door itself. He bent down to peer through it.
Just to check on her.
Just to make sure that she wasn’t being hurt.
Her heart-shaped ass faced the door, and it was bare. His heart skipped a beat.
She was even more perfect nude than he could have imagined.
Then he noticed that her cheeks were pink. Her boyfriend stood to the side of her with his hand resting on the small of her back. He was speaking softly to her.
Even from his position on the other side of the door, he could see her quiver.
Her boyfriend undid his belt and pulled it from his jeans, doubling it over in his hand. There were more quiet words, and he arched back and lay a solid stoke against her ass. She shook and screamed into the pillow.
No.
Oh, God, no.
No, this couldn’t be happening. Not to his angel. Anger flared in his body, and he stood up and banged on the door. “Amelia! Amelia, are you okay? Open up this door, right now!”
“Oh, my God,” he heard her say.
Was there relief in her voice?
There was shuffling, and after a minute, she opened the door. She was wearing a t-shirt a size too big for her, and her face was rosy. A leather collar encircled her neck. She had a dazed, far-off looked in her eyes. “Brad! What are you doing?”
Her boyfriend came to stand behind her, running his hand through her hair. At his touch, she leaned into him.
He swallowed, wondering if this had been a good idea. Then he remembered the way she screamed as he hit her, and he wanted to rip her boyfriend’s arm off. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
She narrowed her eyes at him.
He blinked. That wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.
“I’m fine.” There was no warmth in her voice.
He swallowed again, convulsively. He looked at the collar around her neck, and the thought of her branded like an animal. Rage consumed him. “What the fuck is he doing to you? Is he hurting you?”
He watched her jaw clench.
“I can take care of this, babe,” her boyfriend said. The two men’s eyes met, and it wasn’t a friendly look.
“No. Let me do this,” she said, taking a deep breath and walking back into her room. Her boyfriend followed and sat down in her desk chair, crossing his legs. He looked ready to fight, but also ready to wait until she asked for it.
“Brad…” she started.
“He’s been hurting you, Amelia. Don’t lie to me.”
The expression on her face was fierce. “Yes, he’s been hurting me.”
“Then why the hell are you with him? Why are you with an asshole like that? Don’t you know that there are nice guys out there that will treat you like you deserve to be treated?” The words spilled out of his mouth. “I won’t stand around and let you be hurt. You deserve so much better than this, Amelia. You deserve so much more.”
Her glare was icy. “Tell me what I deserve, Brad. Just say it. Say it and get it over with.”
Inside his head, there was a tiny alarm bell going off, but he was in much too deep to stop now. “You deserve kindness and tenderness. You deserve someone who is going to adore you, worship you.”
“And who do you think that would be?”
He paused and took a deep breath. “Me, Amelia. I would give you anything. Let me take care of you the way you need. Please, you’re too good for this cretin. I would never hurt you. I would never collar you like some piece of property.” He looked at her, begging with his eyes. Her expression was stoic. “Please, Amelia.”
I love you.
She blinked slowly. “No, Brad. You don’t get it.”
“What don’t I get? Every beautiful girl deserves a nice guy. We work so well together; we talk, we laugh.” He voice sounded strained, even to himself.
“Brad, we talk because I thought we were friends.” She fondled the collar around her neck and looked at her boyfriend. “You don’t get me, I see that now. You’re so wrapped up in what I’m supposed to be, in your head, that you don’t get me at all.”
He felt like his chest might cave in.
She fingered the collar like a comfort object.
Good, clean anger wiped away all his other, uncomfortable emotions. “How can you let him do this to you?”
She laughed. “Let him do this to me? Brad, I asked for him to do this to me.”
Now it was his turn to blink, stupidly.
“Oh, that doesn’t fit, does it, Brad? God forbid a woman have actual desires.” She laughed again, and it filled the room with ice. “God, I thought we were friends. But I’m not even a real person to you, am I?”
“Of course you’re a real person.”
I love you, Amelia.
“No, I’m not. You’ve constructed this image of me in your head, without actually knowing anything about me,” she said.
“All women are the same, and if you’re nice enough to them, then they’ll fall in love with you, right?”
He frowned. Of course that was how it worked.
Right?
She shook her head, laughing. “You’re ridiculous. And you’re going to be alone for a long, long time if you think that’s the way things work.”
“Mel,” her boyfriend said, clearing his throat. “Don’t be cruel. Or you’re going to get another fifty with the belt.”
She blushed, looking at the floor. “I’m sorry, but this shit just pisses me off, you know?” She turned back to her roommate. “Look, Brad. I’m sorry that you feel this way, but let me be clear that I, in no way, feel the same.” There was an awkward silence, and she bit her lip. “Maybe… we should go.”
He felt the lump in his throat. His eyes stung, and he felt like an idiot. “No, no. Don’t.” He turned back to the hallway, before he completely lost it. “You guys stay. I need to get some air, I think.”
The heat of his anger seemed to evaporate into the night, as he closed the door behind him. He felt empty, betrayed. She wasn’t anything like what he thought she was.
He had always been taught that if he was nice to someone, they’d be nice back. That’s all he was trying to do.
He sat down on the front porch and put his head in his hands. His tears were silent when they finally began to fall. How could he have been so wrong?
A muffled scream floated through the house.
How could she have asked for it? That made no sense.
Could she be protecting her boyfriend? Could he be making her say that? He imagined him holding her down, threatening her. With the belt in his hand, it was easy to imagine.
Yeah, he thought. That was probably it.
Which meant that his angel still needed his help. He couldn’t leave her now. He dried his silly tears and chastised himself for not realizing that earlier. Of course she’d be afraid; she’d say anything to avoid more pain.
He stood up and walked back into the house, ready to fight for his love.