He reached for the wall, pulling a picture frame from the faded paper. With a flick of his wrist, he hurled it at Geoffrey. The frame flew with surprising speed and force across the room before crashing into Geoffrey's outstretched hand. It clattered to the floor, and the shattered glass sprayed in all directions. A few shards landed on Linda.

Tom reached for another frame and hurled it across the room. Geoffrey blocked it, and Tom threw a vase. Catherine watched in horror as more and more glass fell on Linda's unconscious body.

​​

"Leave her alone," she screamed. "You bastard, leave her alone."

Tom laughed a wild drunken laugh before charging at Geoffrey. Geoffrey dropped into a low crouch and leveled a kick at his shins. He staggered and fell, pulling her down with him. The two grappled and fought on the floor, rolling through the broken glass and Linda's spilled blood.

Catherine ran toward the door and grabbed what looked like a broken chair leg. She raised the thick wooden leg above her head and swung it down toward Tom. It clipped him on the right shoulder, and he broke free from Geoffrey. Footsteps pounded up the stairs and two paramedics charged into the room.

"Are the police with you?" Catherine shouted.

The paramedics shook their heads.

"You have to get her to the hospital," she shouted. "She might be dying."

The paramedics looked nervously at Tom, who was still flailing and kicking on the floor. Geoffrey pulled herself on top of him and wrapped one hand around his neck while raining blows down on his face with her free hand. After several minutes he stopped kicking, and his legs went limp.

The paramedics rushed forward and began to examine Linda. They lifted her carefully and strapped her onto a stretcher. Blood trickled from the stretcher, dripping down onto the floor.

"We need to apply pressure to her head wound, or she'll bleed out as we move her," one said.

"Geoffrey, help them carry the stretcher," Catherine shouted.

Geoffrey grabbed the stretcher, and the paramedic wrapped a piece of thick fabric around Linda's head, holding it tightly in place with both hands. They carried the stretcher out of the room, moving slowly to avoid jostling Linda.

Catherine ran back to the window, but the police still weren't there. With a sigh, she turned and headed toward the front door to the apartment, but as she crossed the living room threshold, something caught at her foot. She turned and saw Tom on the floor. His left eye was swollen shut, and cuts and gashes covered his face and arms. She couldn't believe he was still conscious.

"Let go of me," she screamed.

"You are interfering bitch," Tom slurred. "I'll teach you to mind your own business."

She tried to free her leg, but Tom had a tight hold on her ankle. She squirmed and kicked, but it was no use. With a groan, she kicked back with her free leg, driving the spike of her heel toward his face. The high heel smashed into his cheek with a crunch, and he let out a low groan, but he didn't let go of her leg.

She kicked at him again, but he was ready for her. He yanked the shoe from her foot, and she staggered backward as she lost balance. At the last minute, she caught herself using the chair leg as a cane.

"I'll kill you bitch," Tom shouted.

Balancing on one leg, she lifted her weight from the chair leg and swung it sideways toward his head. A loud thwack filled the room, but he kept his grip. She lifted the leg and swung it again, and his hand loosened around her ankle.

Tom scrambled backward and slowly rose to his feet. She reached for her shoe, shoved it back onto her foot, and ran across the floor. It was slippery with the broken glass, but she kept her balance. As she ran, Tom lunged at her, swinging a fist at the side of her head. She ducked it, and the force of the punch sent him staggering to the side.

She raised the chair leg again and swung it as his legs, trying to knock him off his feet. She connected with his knee, and he crumpled onto the floor. She swung again and slammed the leg into the side of his head. He fell his face-first onto the floor, twitched, and then stopped moving. Scared he'd somehow get up again, she charged out of the room and raced down the stairs.

A police car rounded the corner, its blue lights flashing and sirens blaring. It pulled to a stop, and two officers charged out. A confused babble of voices shouted at the same time: the paramedics, Geoffrey, Sophia, and the neighbor.

"The man who did all this is still upstairs," she shouted.

The officers nodded, "We'll deal with him, and then we'll need full witness statements from everyone involved."

The paramedics gave the name of the hospital.

"Sophia, you should ride with your mom," Catherine said. "I'll get a cab and follow behind. Geoffrey, you stay here and deal with the police—make sure to give them a full statement and tell them that we will be pressing all possible charges."

"Okay," Geoffrey said. "Sean will meet you at the hospital."

"He knows?' Catherine asked.

Geoffrey shot her a reproachful look, "I called him as soon as we got outside."

Catherine sighed, "Thanks for the warning, I guess."

"I had to tell him," Geoffrey said. "It's my job."

"I know," she said quietly. "Did he seem very angry?"

Geoffrey shrugged, "What else do you expect?"

"Great," she muttered sarcastically. "Absolutely great."

She called for a cab and waited for the black car to pull up to the curb. Before it had fully stopped, she wrenched open the door and shouted the name of the hospital. The driver sped off without a word, and Catherine checked herself for injuries in the car. There was a bit of blood on her pants legs, but she quickly realized it was Tom's.

The car pulled up to the hospital, and she raced into the ER. Linda had already been rushed to urgent care, but Sophia sat slumped in one of the hard plastic chairs, waiting for her name to be called. She held a piece of gauze pressed to her forehead. Every time a nurse appeared, she lifted her head hopefully. She slid into the chair next to Sophia and put an arm around her friend's shoulder.