Canterbury Tales

(iii)

The swing was noticeable only by the scream that preempted it.  When the smack came it was audible, and her scream turned instantly to a whimper.  The building went still.  I could sense Noah beside me and Jack across had suddenly stopped, their senses tuned to trouble.  Another smack and a cry of pain and I knew immediately where it was coming from.  I stepped into the hall and joined Noah and Jack at the elevator.  We knew where we were going.  One floor down, we rapped at the door.  The door was yanked open with a “what the f*** do you want”.  The irate greeter was pushed into the flat and held to the wall by my companions.  I checked on the girl, for to me that is all she is.  I knew her only by her voice, propensity for twangy country music, and her raucous parties that always respected curfew.  I also knew she lived alone.  She was quietly crying.  Simply she said it, “throw him out, throw the f***er out”.  She wanted no help.  She wanted no law.  She wanted only to control her space again, and to regain her dignity. 

We escorted the man out.  He may have suffered a few bruises on his way down. 

I pray he does not return.  I pray we did the right thing respecting her wishes.