Page 23 of The Eraser

"The fuck are you doing here?" I hear a deep, familiar voice say.

I turn to my left, and I'm shocked to see Stephen standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. It's been a while since I've seen him. He still watches me, but he's careful not to hang around and let me see him. Over the past year, he's not changed. He's kept his distance, and I hate it. The kiss is still something I think about. Hell, Stephen is all I think about. He's gotten deep under my skin. Whenever my father gets into one of his moods and decides it's time to torture me, Stephen is who I think of. He's the place my mind wanders to. He's my safe haven.

"Well, it's nice to see you too," I reply tartly. He runs so hot and cold. I hate that he makes me want him so badly but walks away when things get hot.

"Little Dancer, answer the question. What are you doing here?" he snarls, his jaw clenched as he stares at me.

"I'm having fun. Don't worry, I'm going home now."

The muscle in his cheek twitches. "Who the fuck are you with?"

"My friend. She's in the bathroom." I sigh. "What is your problem?" I ask. "Why are you such an asshole?"

"Jessica," he grinds out. "I'm always a fucking asshole. That's never going to change. But why the fuck is your da letting you leave the house looking like that?" His eyes glance over my body, and the anger in his voice has my heart racing.

I glance down at the jumpsuit I'm wearing. It fits me perfectly. It hugs my curves and hides my scars. It's the first time in my life that I'm actually happy with how I look. I feel pretty.

"My dad's not here," I reply, unable to keep the hurt from my voice. "You can go, Stephen. I'll be leaving any moment."

I hear the sound of heels walking toward me and turn to see Mallory smiling as she glances between Stephen and I. "Are you ready?" she asks me as she comes to stand beside me. "Or do you need more time?"

"Not at all," I reply, not looking back at Stephen. "Let's go," I say, my heart hurting. But I'll be damned if I show him that.

She links her arm through mine and we start to walk away from Stephen. With each step I take, the harder it is to keep the tears at bay. But I'll be damned if I cry. It's been years since I've shed tears and I won’t let anyone make me do so anymore.

"Damn," I hear a low voice say in the darkness a little while later. Mallory and I are walking. Neither of us wanted to get a taxi, and we thought we'd be okay to walk home, but the further we walked, the darker it got. There's hardly anyone around.

Mallory's arm tightens around mine, and my heart races as I look to see where the voice came from. There's a man standing close to an alleyway, his face barely seeable, thanks to the barely lit street. There are a few lampposts out of service, making it hard for anyone to see.

"Where do you think you're going?" the man says as he steps into the light. "Hmm? I want to have some fun."

"How about you fuck off before I make you?" I hear the low growl of Stephen from behind me. "The fuck are you doing here, O'Leary?"

My heart stutters. O'Leary, as in the crime family? I didn't think they were in Dublin.

"Well, look who it is. Stephen Maguire, as I live and breathe. What you saying, boss? Do we have a problem?" he goads, moving toward Mallory and I.

"We'll have more than a problem if you don't leave her alone," Stephen replies, and there's so much anger and hatred in his voice that I flinch at how hard his tone is.

"Does she mean something to you?" O'Leary asks. "She yours?" he questions as he steps closer to me, his hand reaching out and his fingers caressing my cheek.

Within seconds, Stephen's on him, his fist plowing into O'Leary's face. "I fucking warned you," Stephen snarls. "Fucking told you to leave her alone."

The sound of Stephen beating the man is something that makes my stomach churn. It brings back so many memories, reminding me of all the hurt my dad has caused me, all the times he beat me until I was unconscious.

I can't take my eyes off the scene playing out in front of me. It's as though I'm rooted to the spot, unable to do anything. Mallory weeps beside me, her tears falling thick and fast. I wish I could console her. I wish I could help her, but I can't. I'm in a trance as Stephen beats O'Leary. The man's on the floor, Stephen on top of him, throwing punch after punch. He's not letting up. He's killing him. I know he is. O'Leary's no longer moving. He's limp on the floor as Stephen unleashes all his anger on the unconscious man.

"Stop," Mallory shrieks. "God, will you stop it. Please," she cries, her body shaking with fear.

Her cries seem to make Stephen snap out of his anger. When he stands, I see his fists are covered in blood, his eyes dark and narrowed.

"The fuck were you both playing at?" he snarls. "Anything could have happened to either of you."

Why is he yelling at us? Why is he making out that the creepy O'Leary guy was our fault?

I don't answer him. Instead, I stay rooted to the spot. Everything that I had thought about him vanished at the sound of his fists beating against flesh. He's no longer the man I thought he was. I was naive in thinking he was anything other than what everyone described him as.

"He's dead," Mallory says, her words just above a whisper. "You've killed him."

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