I awoke from a particularly nasty nightmare, one that went over the events of the night before. I recalled the night's...activities and grimaced at how it had all went down.
I'd entered the Irish pub with Malcolm, the hardened patrons ignoring us as we we entered, but I knew something was...off.
I glanced to my left and noticed just exactly what it was that was off. There was a girl at the counter swaying, obviously drunk off her ass, and the man with the scar was there. The one I'd witnessed in the alley hurt the girl on the case we were working.
I'd encountered him multiple different times since that night in October when I hadn't stepped in and stopped him when I should have. I always blamed myself for letting him hurt her so badly before he got away, and I wasn't planning on letting him get away, not this time, even though I had Malcolm hanging around.
I walked up to the bar when the bartender and owner finally looked up and noticed that it was me.
"What can I do for my favorite patron?"
I gave him a tight lipped smile while I discussed with him the details of what we needed from him and a knowing glint appeared in his eyes.
"All this time and I had no idea you were a lawyer."
"Well, that's the plan one day, but right now we're on the track to becoming one. Do you know if we can have access to the footage from that night?"
"For you, anything. Wait here and I'll find the tape from the night. Cases like this happen often, sadly, so I keep a backlog of ten years."
I knew there was a reason I liked him. His greying hair flew around on his head as the fans circulated the air in the less than cramped bar, and I kept my eyes trained on scar face.
"Why are you staring at that guy? Is he your type or something?"
I snapped my attention back to Malcolm who was giving scar face a nasty look.
"Don't look at him," I hissed through my teeth. "And no, for your information. He's a creep and I'm watching him to make sure he doesn't try anything with that girl."
"That girl at the bar? He's all the way across the bar..."
At his words, scar face tipped back the rest of his pint of amber colored beer and stalked towards the woman who was at least eight bar stools away from us, but I could still smell the cigarette smoke rolling off of him in waves, could still see the dangerous glint in his eyes. He was dressed the same as he always was, casual jeans and loose black t-shirt, army green jacket that brought out the same coloring in his gaunt eyes, framed by caramel skin and scruff that covered half of his face, and the infamous scar that was the reason for his nickname.
He reminded me of a more gruff version of Raphael, and the thought made me hate him even more.
"Wow, are you psychic?"
I elbowed Malcolm in the ribs and watched their encounter with great interest. I knew scar face had seen me and his irritation was boiling just below the surface, but I didn't care. I wasn't going to let him hurt another girl, not this time.
"Alright here we go, October 31st, the exact time stamp you need. I even fast forwarded it so that when you go to watch it, it starts right there."
James handed me the CD in his hand cocooned in an orange sleeve and I thanked him profusely as I watched out of the corner of my eye scar face taking the girl out of the bar with his hand on her elbow. I shot him an evil glare and at James' request if we wanted something to drink I politely turned it down, but it seemed like he knew I was going to say that.
"Well, whatcha waiting for?"
I eyed the older bartender with a new eye, fully aware that he knew why I frequented his bar almost every night.
I threw him a knowing smirk and tore out of the building like it was on fire. I didn't have my baton on me, but since I had my sheathed knife strapped to the inside of my thigh, and that would have to be enough, that and my pepper spray tucked in my purse.
I carefully deposited the security tape in my purse and felt around for the pepper spray and followed scar face outside where all hell broke loose.
He had the girl by the neck and was about to shove her into his awaiting car.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
I didn't even know the words were out of my throat until I'd spoken them. My lungs were working double time to keep my breathing even, and I was aware that Malcolm was looking at me like I was insane, clearly having no idea what the hell was going on.
"You again? You should know when to leave well enough alone, little girl. Now is one of those times."
"I don't think so. Let the girl go, the cops are already on their way."
"Oh yeah, just like the last time? Can you save this one like you tried with my other girls?"
"Lydia, what is this creep talking about? What last time?"
I turned to Malcolm and was about to attempt to explain when scar face beat me to it.
"Oh she didn't tell you? That's cute. She's been staking out my bar for months trying to catch me again, and the one time I think she's not coming in and I make my move and there she is again. Don't you have better things to do, like that guy beside you? I bet you two have lots of fun together."
"Shut the fuck up. You're going to jail, and you're going to let that girl go, right now."
"Or what? You'll beat me with that stick you bring with you? Or is it time for the gun this time? I see it strapped to your thigh some nights, it's really fucking sexy, or it would be if you weren't planning on pointing it at me."
I breathed a sigh of relief when the sirens finally made their appearance.
"Two choices. Run and get caught, or stay here and get caught. Your choice."
Scar face looked unnaturally comedic as he looked between the two of us and the girl who had gone completely limp in his arms.
She was beautiful, blonde hair and long striking legs. She had a heart shaped face and a young, innocent look to her. She would stay innocent if I had any say about it. She didn't deserve to be tainted in the world by scum like him.
He made his decision. He threw her against the brick wall behind him, much like he did to the first girl, but this time I was here.
"NO!"
The word ripped out of me and Malcolm tried to hold me back as I rushed forward to try and catch her, but I pushed him away and was vaguely aware of the fact that he had fallen to the ground in my haste but I didn't care.
She was fine, she wasn't hurt. I cradled her head the entire time until the ambulance appeared.
We explained everything to them and to the cops who showed up after they had caught the guy running on foot.
Lloyd Merryweather. A normal name for an evil face.
I was alone with Malcolm in the aftermath and couldn't find the strength to move up from where I'd been sat against the wall with her head in my hands, brushing her hair back from her face. If only someone had been there for me when I'd been brutalized, assaulted. If only I was there for Amalia when she needed me, like I was for that girl.
Oh, how things might have been different. Maybe then I could have been happy.
Malcolm spoke and took me out of my stupor.
"Well, do you think Professor Walsh is going to give us extra credit for not only exonerating her client but also catching the real suspect?"
"Here's hoping. I'm just glad he didn't give this one brain damage like he did to the other girl."
"Speaking of...he said he knew you. What was all that about?"
I tensed up, scared that he'd found out my secret.
"Nothing, I've just seen him around, and I could tell his type. He was preying on women, so I might've followed him out a few times when he left with some women who clearly weren't able to consent to him. Each time I called the cops on him and he ran, tonight was no different, but he kept coming back."
"That's kind of dangerous, don't you think?"
I rolled my eyes and pinned him with my favorite glare that I reserved for the times when I was seriously pissed off.
"None of these guys in the bars are going to stand up for them. Someone has to."
"We're going to school to put these guys away...or defend them. Even if you don't want to be private counsel, chances are that you're going to have to protect some very bad people."
"I am aware of that Malcolm. Is it such a bad thing to try and stop them before it happens?"
"It is if you get yourself killed, or thrown in jail yourself for assault."
I sighed and ran my hands through my not so put together hair.
"Look, I won't tell anyone about how you spend your weekends...but I don't know if I can let you go out and do it all on your own. Someone needs to be there to protect you."
I rolled my eyes at that.
"Oh yeah, like who?"
"Me. I can help, I'm trained in fighting, I go to the fight club every Tuesday night."
"That's a kind offer, Malcolm, but we hardly know each other. Why would you even want to do that? Like you said yourself, it's a recipe for disaster."
"Maybe disasters are exciting...and attractive."
I didn't miss the look in his eyes when he spoke, and the way his eyes raked over my body in that moment sent shivers through me, but not the ones that I wanted. Not the kind Emmett gave me....
"Listen, if you're just doing this because you want to get close to me, I have to warn you about something. I'm fucked up. Like, monumentally so. I pushed away someone that I could finally see being...that doesn't matter. Look what I'm trying to say is I could only ever be your friend, nothing more."
He tried to brush it off, but I could tell my words had hurt him a little. Oh well, better me hurt him now then even worse later on. I wasn't about to lead him on.
"Who said I was into you like that? Maybe I just have a hard on for danger, just like you. I'm good with friends, and competition for the top slot in class."
My phone started ringing then and I was grateful for the distraction.
"Sorry, it's my roommate. Come on, we can Uber back to campus."
"So, what'll it be? Can I join your one-woman justice crusade?"
"Don't get in my way."
I had no intentions on letting Malcolm into my 'one-woman justice crusade' and he didn't push the issue the entire ride home, but there was a feeling I couldn't shake, one that sent me into a downward spiral for the rest of that night...I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me.
And so I'd gone home and slept...but it was more like I dreamt, because I was even more exhausted when I woke than I had been when I went to sleep.
I tried to chase away the nightmares with an early morning yoga session, but even that didn't help. An entire work binge session creating ten different ads for multiple different companies later and I was still itching to do something, to burn off some of my manic energy.
There was something that put a damper on my morning, however, and that was finding that the second I opened my search engine I was flooded with news articles talking about Emmett Scott and how he declared that he was officially dating Sofia Renault. There was even an article from Cosmo talking about the 'timeline' of their relationship. I wanted to throw up but I opened it up anyway.
They started when he burst onto the NFL scene, clearly single, then went to their red carpet pictures, partying pictures, pictures of them going back to her apartment, and finally the pictures from the previous night. Somehow the paparazzi had caught a picture of them making out at their table and then they caught him going home with her yet again, not to mention him publicly claiming her as his girlfriend to the paparazzi outside the club that I'd also been to (sort of) the night before.
I felt sick to my stomach looking at the images, but it was like a train wreck, I just couldn't look away.
"Lydia? You okay?"
I whipped around to face Amalia, tears glistening in my eyes.
I hadn't cried after the car accident.
I hadn't cried after every assault or almost attack I'd witnessed and attempted to stop.
I hadn't cried after Raphael.
I hadn't cried after Christian, not for years after.
I hadn't hardly cried after Nate.
But for Emmett...I cried. Because he was the one I gave my heart to, however unintentionally.
"Amalia....I think I really screwed up this time."
I showed her my phone and she watched as I crumbled to pieces in front of her. I felt so guilty for doing so when she was in so much worse of a situation than I was, but I think it was something that was a long time coming, something that paved the way for me to finally heal.
I cried for the little girl that I used to be, the innocence that was stolen out from underneath me by men who weren't worthy enough to even be breathing on the same earth as me.
I cried for the future that I'd almost thrown away, I cried for the life I almost lost in the car accident, I cried for all the girls that I couldn't save, and I wasn't able to save everyone, I knew that, but I still held onto that guilt because it felt like I was the only one who was aware of all the injustices occurring just underneath our noses.
I cried for the love that I'd thrown away so carelessly, like he was an obstacle on my way to finally having that peace inside of me that I tried to hard to find. Was that so much to ask, peace?
I just wanted peace of mind, to be happy, to be in love and to be loved by someone else, but I couldn't have that if there was this constantly festering piece of evil, dark, malevolent pain inside of me that needed an outlet otherwise it would devour me whole.
"It's not fair," I cried out to no one in particular, but Amalia knew. She knew, because she'd endured it, too. The pain wasn't fair. What had we deserved to sustain it? What was our fault in this life other than being abused and taken advantage of?
But maybe that was the point. We hadn't done anything to deserve it, so it was finally time to stop blaming ourselves, and I knew Amalia had a hard time doing so from our times in group therapy when she'd expressed that outward pain.
I vowed from that day forward that I was no longer going to be a victim. I was going to take the cards I had been dealt and make the best of it, even if Emmett was out of the picture, for good.
I had to accept that he was gone from me and move on, but not romantically. That would be years in the making, if ever at all, even as a distraction. I knew if I was ever somehow magically granted a second chance with Emmett that I would grab it up on the spot, I'd do whatever he needed, be whatever or whoever he needed-the supportive girlfriend cheering him on from the stands or a badass lawyer ready to stand at his side when anything came his way.
I solemnly hung my head, knowing that that chance would probably never come, but I'd give this vigilante lifestyle up for him in a heartbeat if only he asked.
But he wouldn't ask, because he'd already moved on, so I needed to harden my heart against him, and that meant continuing this dangerous lifestyle-the only thing besides him that could make me feel alive again.
I had my own distraction, and I was going to partake in that very distraction...right after I finished my crying session with my best friend, feeling just a little bit more healed, and soon piece by piece I'd be put back together again, the cracks a testament to how strong I'd finally become.