The air in the bar was swirling with grey cigarette smoke that threatened to curl around my esophagus and strangle me in my place for continuing what I was doing. I refused to believe that karma wasn't going to get the better of me, but I had to remind myself what I was doing this for, and who.

Snippets of steel guitar and keyboard filled my eardrums and I leaned back leisurely in my seat pretending to relax, ignoring the red hot stare that was pinning me to my seat. This wasn't about me, I needed to remain inconspicuous, alert but invisible.

At long last, his greedy and bleary eyes swung past me to land on the young woman to my left, her form slightly swaying to the music from the house band and the alcohol slowly lowering her inhibitions. I knew from his patterns that it wouldn't take long for him to make his way over to her, slip the drug into her drink and then take her to his awaiting vehicle.

I'd managed to stop him the night before last, going up to his target and pretending that we were best friends before he could hurt her, but he was determined that night, I could feel it in the sway of the atmosphere, something dark and dangerous breeding in the air.

"Oh I love this song!"

That was when he made his move.

"Yeah? Me too, baby. Hey what are you drinking?"

My pulse was throbbing under my skin, the wet stain on the cherry oak bar top in front of me choosing that moment to garner my full attention. I didn't want him to see my eyes, filled with trepidation, terror and...excitement?

I hadn't gone full warrior mode on any men yet since moving up north to Harvard, only scoping the bars out and making sure the women I noticed got back safe from these predators, but clearly the campus had a disgusting frat boy problem, especially the ones who didn't understand the word 'no'. The frat parties were next, but I figured I'd try my hand at the bar scene before stepping into the lion's den.

Flashes of my past invaded my senses then, as raucous screaming erupted from the table to my left and I realized with a start that they were cheering on the home football team and I cringed as I realized who exactly they were cheering for.

"Damn rookie's got skills!"

"I bet he's happy forty-two got hurt otherwise he wouldn't even be playing right now!"

"Yeah, bet coach is gonna put him in even more now though, now that he's not so green and proved himself."

Emmett. It was easier said than done to forget someone like him, but I pushed him back to the farthest corners of my mind, even when it felt like the bile would rise up and choke me on the memories of him.

I threw back the gin and tonic in front of me, hoping to stifle the emotions that inevitably surged to the forefront of my body watching his uniform clad body slam into a few of his fellow players in a cheery congratulations.

While he was out living his glamorous life, being photographed by paparazzi and gallivanting off with supermodels in the magazines and on articles online, I was taking care of my newly handicapped best friend, nursing my own handicap and stalking rapists on my Harvard campus all while trying to manage keeping my three point five GPA. It was easier than I thought without nosy parents, brothers, and drop dead gorgeous housemates distracting me.

Amalia was doing better and therapy was helping her, but finding a job was harder than either of us assumed. She was stricken to a wheelchair after the accident that kept me up late at night with nightmares and scars riddled on my body but after her family had tried to take her back home, she had insisted that she stay with me, claiming her newfound adulthood and need to be independent which would help her mental health.

They reluctantly agreed, and for the first time in my life I was grateful for the fact that they no longer had any ties to my family. The one time I was glad about the fact that my parents, mainly my mother, were absolutely incorrigible and a pain to even speak to.

I never told my family about the accident, let alone Emmett. I had no idea what his reaction might've been, and I needed a fresh start, even if we still resided in the same city.

Boston could be big enough for the both of us, and it was easier to remember that because not once had we crossed paths.

My target was rubbing absent minded circles on his target's back, and I was positive I saw his hand slip the drug into her drink while she leaned her head closer to his while he whispered something to her. She seemed shocked and tried to pull away from him, but he said something else which seemed to calm her down.

She tried to ignore him for a bit and he took his hands off of her for which I was grateful, but more cheers from the television in the corner made me lose my focus and suddenly he was jerking up from her stool at the bar, giving the greasy looking bartender a wink as he said, "Don't worry, I'll make sure she gets into an Uber. We go to class together."

That seemed to pacify the bartender who had the decency to be concerned for the girl's wellbeing but not enough to ensure her safety himself despite the bar being mostly empty.

Damn Emmett and his ability to make me lose all sense, even after all this time being apart. We'd only been in each other's presence for a short while, but the mark that he left on my soul would never fade, as I was forever marked by him.

I followed them out shortly after the door shut, creeping along the shadows to remain unseen. He was carrying the poor blonde headed petite girl on his shoulder and was grunting with the exertion of it.

His car beeped and before he could throw her in I gathered up my courage while flicking out the baton I had kept hidden in the waistband of my pants.

I had my tiny Glock forty-three holstered on my ankle behind my boot in case things came to that, but luckily my voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Hey!"

He whirled around and half dropped the girl, but still kept a firm grip on her waist. She was completely unconscious at that point and once he was dealt with I'd stay until the ambulance arrived but until then, I'd have to take care of her would be abuser.

"What? I'm helping my...sister. She got too drunk and I'm taking her home."

"We both know that's not your sister. Hand her to me and leave, if you know what's good for you."

My face was still half hidden in the shadows and he squinted trying to get a better look.

"Just leave me alone, I'm not doing anything wrong. She was totally into me and-"

"I saw you slip her drink. I called the cops and they're on their way now so I'd suggest-"

I barely had the words out of my mouth before he flung her body to the ground and escaped to the driver's side of his car. I hardly had enough time to capture her limp body off of the hard, gritty sidewalk asphalt before his tires were screeching and his small two door was careening out of the dark alleyway.

I took the time to study the girl's features, then. Innocent, harmless.

I called the cops for real that time, disguising my voice and left the girl a note in her pocket so she'd know that he didn't get anywhere close to sexually abusing her, anonymously addressed of course, but at least she could find comfort in the fact that someone had stopped her from becoming another victim...another survivor.

The sounds of the Patriots game flooded into my ears as I escaped down the same alleyway when the sirens began lighting up the darkness and trudged home, clutching my ribs that still ached every now and again, wondering what Emmett was going to be doing to celebrate his first touchdown.

I tried to imagine my life with him as I slipped into my apartment that I shared with Amalia, what we'd be doing if we were still together.

Would we be out partying and celebrating, or would we be tangled in between the sheets, panting hard from the exertion of his enthusiastic celebration?

I fell asleep to the heartbreaking memories that would only ever be just that- memories.