Moment

Winona

Did I look at Jimmy with love or pity?

Sympathy or hate? Could I feel both in that moment?

My body heaved at the thought of him on the floor, writhing in pain. Or maybe it was

heaving up the idea that I would never have to share a bed with him again.

Would I have taken him to the hospital had I been given the chance? Or better yet, had it been me, would my boyfriend have driven me there?

The answer to that last one was a resounding no.

I needed to remember that, remember my place.

One flimsy door separated me from a roomful of men who would put a bullet through my head in an instant. And I stood in a hallway of cement walls and dim lighting with the man who had just stabbed my boyfriend numerous times. I was ready for fear to whip through me, make me shake in terror. HJ stood a whole head taller than me, and his shoulders were wider than I remembered. He was bigger, more muscular, more everything than I remembered. Tattoos wove over his neck and arms like they wanted to wrap hi