Part 24
The car jolted to a halt and the motor went silent, the headlights remaining switched on. Although whoever was in the car had just saved our lives, we were still a little apprehensive - it could've been anybody. Were we supposed to trust them, even though they'd helped us? As Rich and I clung to each-other, ready to move quickly if we needed to, the driver door opened and a familiar male figure rushed over to the spot where Tim's unconscious body was lying on the ground.
"Justin!" I called. He whirled around to face us, sighing loudly with relief.
"Looks like I came in the nick of time!" he observed as he rushed over, wrapping each of us in a warm and consoling hug.
"A second late and it would've been too late," I said. "Some would say you're a hero."
"Bahh - everything in life is about location!" Justin quipped.
After another round of hugs, Rich and I followed Justin to Tim's body. He was still alive - the blow from Justin's car wasn't strong enough to kill him - but there was already a small pool of blood forming beneath his body, primarily from his head. I crouched beside his body, regarding him with a tinge of sadness. Over a year ago, things had been completely different. I carried the weight of responsibility for his transformation - if I hadn't slept with him and treated it so casually, then none of this would've happened. He'd still be the Tim that we used to know. I would've given anything to bring the old Tim back. But it was too late. The regret was immense.
I said a prayer of gratitude every day that Rich and I found each-other. I hated to think who and where I would've been if I didn't have his love. I had settled down and become a much better person, and I had Rich to thank for it.
"We should call the police," Rich suggested, crouching behind me and enfolding me in his arms. I rubbed one arm comfortingly, staring down at Tim.
"I already did," Justin replied, being the first of us to hear the police sirens wailing as they made their way towards the building. We weren't sure how he could've called them already, but we dind't ask - we knew he'd tell us eventually.
The night stretched on. All three of us stayed awake until the sun peeked over the horizon the next morning. We checked our apartment and found Mandy lying in the doorway, injured but alive. Thankfully, a man living on the floor below us was a vet, who kindly offered to take care of Mandy while we assisted the ambulance and police. Two people were taken to the hospital - Tim and a middle-aged woman he'd knocked down the stairs during his pursuit. As they loaded her into the back of the ambulance van, I apologised to her repeatedly for her injuries, but she was very forgiving and said that it wasn't my fault.
"I just hope I don't have to share a room with that little tosser," she said, managing a short laugh before the ambulance officers closed the doors.
Tim didn't wake up as he was carried to another van. His eyes remained closed, his clothes and skin stained with his own blood. Rich and I watched as they drove him away, expressing no sympathy for the man who had put our relationship, and indeed our lives, into jeopardy.
Justin, Rich and I were interviewed seperately by the police, at the end of which we were told that Tim would be charged with the illegal possession of a firearm (x2), attempted murder and physical assault. After being treated at the hospital, he would immediately be taken into custody, and a court hearing would be held soon after. If I didn't have faith in the justice system before, I certainly did now. The three of us all hoped that Tim would get the punishment that he so richly deserved.
By the time we were allowed to go home, it was early in the morning, and we were extremely tired. We still had a lot to talk about between ourselves, and so we invited Justin to stay with us in our apartment for the morning. As we sipped warm cups of coffee, we gathered in the living room and discussed what had happened, each of us taking turns in telling the story from our own point of view.
When Justin revealed his involvement with Tim, it didn't come as much of a shock to us. Rich had suspected it from the beginning but had never said anything. Justin knew what Tim was asking of him was wrong. In the time that he'd known Rich and I he found that he liked us, and therefore didn't want to cause us any complications.
"I finally got myself out of it - but the damage had been done, Tim had shot you," he said to Rich. We could hear the honest regret in his voice with each word he spoke.
When we asked how he knew that Tim was going to come after us, he explained that he had run into Tim as he was on his way to our apartment. Justin had immediately noticed the gun in his hand and knew what his intentions were. He had ordered Tim to stay away from us but Tim was not only intoxicated, he was angry, and wouldn't listen to a word Justin said. As Tim pushed him out of his way, Justin had alerted the police via a telephone booth and then made his way to our apartment block, arriving just as we ran out of the building. He began to get out of his car to warn them, but upon hearing a gunshot, jumped into the car again, an idea already forming in his mind. The perfect opportunity came when Tim had cornered Rich and I and was about to shoot us - he revved the motor up and pushed his foot on the accelerator, with his eyes narrowed in a glare directed straight at Tim.
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A few hours passed and we could see Justin beginning to doze off in our couch, so Paul gently draped a blanket over his body as I cleared the coffee cups from the table. As I placed the cups near the sink and began quietly cleaning up the kitchen, I caught a glimpse of the sketch i'd been working on the night before. The sketch was divided into two sections, separating the top half of the page from the bottom half. The top half consisted of a tall man with dark hair, leaning against a brick wall with his fingers clawing through his hair, his head bowed low and his knees drawn to his chest. The room was clearly a prison cell and the man looked very miserable and filled with remorse. The bottom half depicted a couple - two men - lying on a satin bedsheet, sleeping soundly while holding each-other close. The embrace wasn't protective, but rather more lovingly, the warmth and comfort of each-other's bodies bringing them contentment and peace.
I lifted a corner of my mouth into a half-smile as I stared at the picture. It didn't take a genius to guess who I had depicted in the sketch, but what surprised me was the accuracy, considering what we had just been through. Did I somehow know what was going to happen and that we'd be alright, emerging safe and unharmed? Or was it simply coincidence - life imitating art?
As I stared at my sketch I didn't hear Paul creeping into the kitchen. He appeared beside me and looked over my shoulder, lightly drawing his fingertip down the edge of the paper. I could almost hear him thinking the same questions that I was asking myself just moments before.
We looked at each-other at precisely the same time. Paul enveloped his arms around my torso and snuggled his head into my chest. I held his shoulders and rested my chin on the top of his head, squeezing him gently. Not a word was spoken - we silently stared out of the kitchen window at the sun rising over London, feeling safe and happy in each-other's arms. The sentiment between us was the same. After over a year a year of struggling and being unable to put our trust in anyone aside from one another, we had overcome what was surely the biggest hurdle of our relationship. We had emerged victorious, feeling stronger than we had ever felt before. It brought us closer together than we thought was possible, and we knew that if we could overcome this, when we had the power to overcome anything. And we wouldn't go through life's troubles alone - we could be in it together, until the days of our deaths. This past year had proved to us that, no matter how difficult the hurdle was, love would always prevail.
Tim would remain in our thoughts, but he could never harm us again. Our nightmare was over.
THE END
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