Trigger warning: Transphobic slurs, violence, physical abuse, blood. Please do not read if you're sensible to this type of material.

— Hannah —

I was happy. The days were bright. I had a girlfriend who respected me. Friends who cared about me. I was finally out to my parents and they supported me entirely. Even the need to decide on a new major wasn’t bugging me as much anymore. Half of my cheerful disposition I owed to finally being free from Michael, and the other half was definitely Amelia’s doing. Every time I was with the girl, I felt that I could relax. There was this sort of comfort in our relationship that was unlike anything I’ve known before, and I was basking in it like a cat in a spot of sunlight.

It felt too good to be true, and, in a sense, it probably was. Because I was so smitten and elated those days that I lost sight of the dangers in my path. I got careless. And those dangers were out to get me.

It happened one Sunday, after one of my many dates with Amelia. There was this cozy pizza parlor not too far from our neighborhood, and they even had vegan options, so it had quickly become our go-to dating spot. I dropped Amelia at her place, then drove home, as usual. Then I climbed up the stairs, took a quick shower, and plunged into the bed. Exhausted, but happy.

I woke up much later, with the sound of the doorbell. My first thought was that it was Lydia, asking me for a ride to campus. Was it morning, already? Groggily, I got up from the bed, and staggered to the door. The bell rang again. Someone was pressing the doorbell button over and over again. I glanced at the clock on the wall. Three in the morning! Who the heck goes to people’s homes at three in the morning?!

I was about to reach for the keys, when I heard the sound of someone ramming the door, over and over. I stopped. That couldn’t be Lydia.

“Hannah!” came a familiar voice, from the corridor outside. My blood ran cold. “Hannah, open up.”

Oh crap.

I immediately dashed back to my room, and locked the door.

Shit shit shit shit! What do I do now?

I looked around for my phone, found it inside the purse, and touched the screen…

It was out of battery.

If it wasn’t for all the panic I found myself in, then, I’d probably have laughed. I threw my purse on the bed, incredulous. Its contents spilled on the covers. I spotted a familiar small black object. Amelia’s emergency phone. I had been bringing it with me on our dates, with the intent of giving it back to her, but kept forgetting to do so. Now I knew why Amelia had been so adamant on me holding on to it. It really could save your life at times, couldn’t it?

I took the small phone, and dialed 190 to reach the police.

Someone picked up, and asked me what my problem was. I tried to explain it, to the best of my abilities, but it seemed that the cop on the other side of the line was... not exactly obliging. He listened to my desperate report of how my ex-boyfriend was at my door demanding to be let in, and said something more or less like this:

“Listen, miss, I can’t send my men out every time a couple gets in a fight. Are you sure you can’t handle this on your own?”

It baffled me. There I was, terrified that the man who once hit me would break into my house and hit me again... and the police was telling me to handle it on my own? What good are these guys, then?

“No, I can’t! I’m scared and there’s nobody here to help. Please send someone over.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” said the man, sounding like he was probably going to forget about it the minute the call was over. “Anything else you wish to report?”

I sighed, leaning my head against the bedroom door. “No, sir.”

“Have a good night, ma’am,” said the man, before ending the call.

I could still hear Michael banging on the front door, demanding that I let him in. It didn’t take a genius to realize I couldn’t count on the police being any help, not after what they’ve just told me. I picked up the phone again, and decided to call Lydia. If anything happened to me — Murder? Kidnapping? I don’t know, my mind kept thinking up the worst possible scenarios — at least my best friend would know who to blame for it.

The phone rang a few times before Lydia picked it up.

“Who’s this?” said a groggy voice.

“Lydia, it’s me,” I answered, promptly.

“Hannah? Goodness girl, it’s three in the morning. Can’t you call me tomorrow?”

“Michael is at my door.”

The mention of my ex’s name immediately woke her up. “He is? Why?”

“I don’t know!” I said, desperately. “He’s slamming the door, demanding that I let him in. I’m scared, Lydia. What do I do?”

“Okay, okay, wait. Calm down. Let’s figure this out. Now, Hannah, whatever you do, don’t let him come in, do you hear me?”

“Of course I hear you,” I retorted. “And I’m not that stupid.”

“Right. Now call the police.”

“I already did.”

“What did they say?”

“That I should deal with it on my own.”

“Wha—?! For real?”

I wanted to cry. “For real, Lydia. Seriously, what do I do?”

At that moment, I heard a loud crashing noise outside. Michael called my name again, and I could hear him more clearly, this time.

“Shit, he got in!!” I said, panicking.

“Hold on, Hannah, I’ll get someone to help!!”

The call went mute. Lydia had probably gone talk to her boyfriend. It was no use. Even if there was someone who could help, there’s no way they’d get there in time. I weighed my options. Would it be possible to escape through the window? With some luck, I might be able to reach another window, and then I could try to make a run for it. It was the seventh floor, though, one slip and it’s over.

“Hannah!” Michael called from the living room. I heard him turn the doorknob a few times. “Hannah, open up! I know you’re in there! I heard your voice! Who were you talking to on the phone?”

I started crying. “Go away!” I told him, sobbing.

“Open up, Hannah! I just want to talk to you.”

Talk? Well, yes, I did cut off all contact once I broke up with him, but still, breaking into someone’s house at three in the morning isn’t exactly the best way to tell someone you want to talk.

“Talk from over there,” I shouted.

There was a moment of silence. He seemed to be considering my suggestion.

“All right,” said my ex. It surprised me that he’d actually comply. “Hannah, baby, come back to me!”

I scoffed. Hard to believe he was still trying to talk me back into that relation.

“You hit me, Michael,” I reminded him, while looking for something I could use to fortify the door, and make sure he didn’t come into the bedroom.

“I was wrong,” said the guy. “I was wrong and I shouldn’t have hit you, I’m sorry. Please come back to me, babe. You’re my world.”

I wasn’t having any of it. “Do you still want me to quit college and go live with you?” I challenged.

Pause. He was hesitating, which was in itself answer enough.

“We’ll make it work, I promise,” said Michael, finally. “Just please give me another chance.”

Jesus, how many chances did this guy think he needed?

“It’s over, Michael.”

“Don’t say that, babe,” he argued. “You’re… you’re my life, Hannah. I miss you like crazy. And I know you miss me too.”

That actually made me chuckled. How conceited of him.

“I’m over you,” I said, not a hint of doubt in my voice. “You’ve hurt me and you’re unreasonable and I’m over it all. I… I have someone new, now.”

Another pause. This one made me nervous. I hadn’t meant to tell Michael about my current lover. I just blurted it out in the heat of the moment, in a desperate attempt to make Michael understand that things between us were over for good.

It didn’t work, though.

“Bullshit,” he said.

I tensed. “No, it’s not.”

“Who is he?!” Michael demanded. “Who’s the fucker I’m gonna have to beat to a pulp?!”

I felt panic rise inside me. He was going after Amelia?! He couldn’t, could he?! What if he actually went and did something to her? Did I just royally screw up everything by telling Michael about her?

“It’s none of your business,” I told him, on the verge of tears. I decided not to clear up the mistake with genders, because I didn’t imagine it would make things better if Michael found out I was going out with a girl.

God, what a mess this all was. I realized, a little too late, that I should have accepted my parents’ suggestion to move back with them for the time being. It was stupid of me to keep living in the same apartment knowing how persistent Michael was.

“I don’t believe you,” he said, defying me once again. “You’re lying. You’re making this up. Why are you running from me, babe? Just… just come back. We can make this work. I love you babe. And you. You love me. You always did.”

I can’t possibly put into words how disgusted I felt, hearing that then. He loved me? Do you make unreasonable demands to the people you love, then beat them up when they say no? What kind of love could that possibly be? And as for myself, yes, I did love him once, or, at least, I thought I did. But that had died many years ago. There was nothing left now, except for Michael’s own delusions.

A strange sound pulled me from my thoughts. Was this… sobbing? Michael was crying?!

“Please,” he said, between sobs. “Please babe.”

The fear I was feeling up to that moment left me. In it’s place, I felt… pity. The guy who was on the other side of my door, bawling his eyes out and begging, he was pitiful. I had never in my life seen Michael stoop so low. I don’t even know why I was so scared of him, up to then.

I unlocked the door, and stared at the crumpled figure before me. I could smell the alcohol. He’d been drinking, of course. I saw Michael look at me with saddened, pleading eyes, and there was a glimmer of hope in them, as if he thought I was relenting.

“Go home, Michael,” I told him, sounding as cold as I could possibly be.

The glimmer of hope was replaced with despair. “No,” he said. “No, no, no, NO!” He got up, and started pacing around my living room. And suddenly my fear of him was back. Maybe I shouldn’t have opened the door. “You!” he said, pointing at me. “You’re supposed to LOVE ME!” his screaming hurt my ears, and made me want to run away and hide. “Why?! Why don’t you love me?! Is it… is it the guy?! Who is him, after all? No, it doesn’t matter! He’s fooling you, don’t you see, babe?! You’re right for me, and I’m right for you.”

“Michael, leave,” I tried to say, with the last bit of courage that I still had. But of course he wouldn’t. The next thing I felt was a piercing pain on my face and a metallic taste. I fell to the floor, and all the air was knocked out of me. I looked up at Michael, exasperated, and saw regret all over his face. “That’s it,” was the unspoken message in the air between us. “That’s the end. For real.” Michael knew as well as I did that I’d never go back to him now, not after the second aggression.

The air returned to my lungs. I stood there, breathing for a few seconds, complete silence between us. Then I got up to my feet again, pointed at the door, and told him:

“Leave.”

Michael looked on the verge of tears again.

“B— babe…” he tried to say.

“NOW!” I yelled.

He hesitated, but I saw him turn toward the door, looking down at the floor, defeated. He took two steps toward the door… and stopped.

Someone was knocking at the door.

“Honey? Are you there?”

No.

I felt my stomach drop. What was Amelia doing there? This wasn’t right. I didn’t want Michael to see her, or to even know she existed. If Amelia walked in now… would she misunderstand? Would Michael attack her?

I remembered Lydia saying on the phone that she’d get me help. So that’s what she had meant by it. It made sense. Amelia didn’t live far from me, she could be here before any of our friends. She understood why Lydia had thought it sensible to call her. And yet, Amelia couldn’t have arrived at a worse time.

Then there was the metallic sound of keys, clinking together. Of course. I had given Amelia my spare key, in case of emergencies, and this damn well did classify as an emergency. But I saw the look of confusion in Michael’s face turn to one of exasperation, and I knew he had put together two and two.

The door swung open. Amelia hesitated, standing in the doorway. She looked first at Michael, then at me, and once she saw my face, she snapped.

“YOU HIT HER?!” she screamed at Michael.

To my complete surprise, Michael was laughing.

“Whoa, chill dude, I was just—”

Amelia didn’t allow him to finish the sentence. She ran over to him and did something I couldn’t quite understand at first. Then Michael yelled, and fell on the ground, lying in fetal position and hugging his abdomen. There was a device in Amelia’s right hand. I knew what it was, I’d seen it before, but only in movies, or online. It was a stun gun.

“Wow,” I said, a little amazed.

Amelia dashed over to me, and the look in her eyes was of fear and panic. She took my face in her hands, and checked the wound Michael had left on it. She even wiped some blood that I didn’t even notice was running from my nose. Then she stuttered to say something.

“Are you… did… where did he hurt you?”

I was surprisingly calm, considering everything that had happened that night. “Just the face,” I told her, matter-of-factly. “I’ll be fine.”

She half-smiled, then took one of my hands. “Let’s go, you’re not safe here.”

I nodded, and allowed Amelia to lead me to the door. But I had to stop once I head Michael laughing, behind us.

I turned to look. He was sitting on the floor, resting his back against the couch. And though the was still holding his abdomen, in pain, he was also laughing like a maniac.

“Oh, Hannah. Oh my dear Hannah. You really are a piece of work, aren’t you? Do you seriously want me to believe that you left me because you fell in love with a tranny?”

That comment was so unexpected that for a moment I thought Michael really had gone mad. I chuckled, and said “what?!” with a disbelieving tone.

Then I turned back to Amelia.

Who had a look of absolute misery on her face.

Oh.