I can’t even remember why I chose to marry you!” She yelled. Her beautiful face filled with anger, those sparkling brown eyes that I have loved since día one, bore into me with no affection. She had dicho them, the words I never wanted to hear.
The fight had been going on for an hora now and I started to yell back, I could no longer control myself. Our first real fight in five years. I knew she would be over it soon and that big bright smile will light up her face, but I was overwhelmed too. I was hurt. But I stopped myself.
There were no lights on in our house; the outside light had faded and the darkness began to rise. I hardly noticed though. We stood about ten meters apart, me in the living room and her standing just outside the bedroom. No one was talking, the sound of two hearts beating fast was all I could hear, and then her sobs reached my ears. I took a few steps adelante, hacia adelante and, like we moved in unison, she took a few back. Making it obvious she didn’t want me near.
“I…I’m…I’m going for a walk okay sweetie,” I managed to say, voice quivering, “and I’ll be back in an hour. I amor tu Mel.”
She whispered softly, “Be careful.”

I turned around and left, closing the door behind me knowing it’s her that should be careful. The emails may have stopped for a few months now, but a few months out of five years wasn’t much, he could be anywhere. Just waiting for her most vulnerable moment. That man caused tonight’s fight, it was stupid, the most ridiculous thing and yet for some stupid reason he has such an impact on our life. But I knew she would be okay, it was just an hora right? I wish I had touched wood.

Hands in my pockets, head down, I strode through the neighborhood park. It was getting dark quickly and por the time I had the exit in sight the sun was well hidden in the sky, and the darkness surrounded. I’ve always had a problem with the dark, something about it just sets me on edge, and I seem to see dangers that aren’t there. I was on well alert now, eyes moving over everything and that’s when I spotted it. Spotted him seeing her. He was crouched low, rising slowly behind the row of bushes that ran at the edge of the stone path. Ready to grab her when the well-lit calle lamps faded to dark and anyone on the calle wouldn’t see. Except me.
Water dripped slowly down my neck. The dirt covered my knees as I knelt behind the dead prickly bushes. Shivering in the shorts and t-shirt I didn’t change out of. It had begun to rain. I was watching her and watching him. As she slowly walked closer I tried to creep near, thankful to our local council in letting our park become overgrown with shrubs.
He sprang out from behind and it all happened in a blur, she had no time to react. His hands clasped around her, her mouth covered. He had succeeded. Trying to find a point of contact her legs flew aimlessly in the air, wanting to do anything to get away. But he was too quick. She landed on the césped, hierba heavily with his body pressed against hers. The blade moved swiftly in his hands, slicing her neck and her upper thigh. Just enough to tell her who’s in charge. His grip still firmly covering her mouth and then my phone rang. Loud and clear, that horrible song Mel loved, something from one of those romantic cine she adores. I shut it up quickly but not before he heard it. The wandering hands stopped where they were and he froze. The young girl felt his grip loosen and took her opportunity. Aiming for his eyes but scratched his cheek instead, it didn’t do anything. He was on his feet now, one foot pushing into her neck, holding her down. Giving her no room to breathe. “Did tu hear that?” he whispered. He pushed that little bit harder and she squeaked. “Did tu hear that?” this time with más force to his voice. Unzipping his pants he knelt back down. Straddling her. The cuts on her neck and thigh were still bleeding and her eyes were slowing closely. He didn’t bother covering her mouth, she couldn’t do anything now. Bringing his cuchillo to her body he began cutting her bloodstained blusa open to reveal a perfectly sculpted figure.
I ran. It wasn’t a long distance but I ran with everything I had. I had no plan. That guy was not going to complete what he set out to do tonight.
I don’t think he heard me coming. Body tensed we collided, he fell on his back lying siguiente to her. He had faster reflexes than me but it turns out not a great aim. A pain shot through my torso and I let out a shout. The night was turning into morning quickly; I had been away from Mel for who knows how long now. The anger and frustration I felt had vanished and I knew hers had too. I needed to get home. My nostrils were burning. The harsh smell of sweat and blood was dominant now; it was like a boxing ring after the fight had ended. With a grunt he got himself up, the distress was obvious in his movement. The blow to his body had damaged a few ribs.
Ignoring the throbbing pain in my side I got to my feet too, my fingers clasped around the blade. The shining sharp steel of his cuchillo glistened in the night. I lunged. I just wanted to make a recognizable difference in his appearance because I knew I couldn’t stop him running and I definitely couldn’t restrain him here whilst waiting for the authorities to arrive. I was way over my head just being here. I’m an entrepreneur with a successful business, I sit behind a escritorio most days, and I am not equipped to be a hero. But I managed to slash at his nose, getting his cheek too. Dropping the cuchillo I realized what I had done, my fingerprints were on that knife. Shit.
He didn’t do anything back; I expected some sort of physical harm inflicted on me, but he just ran. Blood stained my camisa, camiseta and hands. I didn’t receive a fatal blow but it was a bit inconvenient. I stumbled over to the young girl and fell at her side to find she was ripped of clothing. Her blusa hang loosely open at the side and her falda was at her knees. Only her bra and panties were left. Her chest was moving up and down but too slowly to be safe. The cut at her neck was severe and so was the one on her inner thigh. I lifted her falda to her waist carefully and with her blusa I tied it around her neck. Seeing in plenty crime and medical shows they bandage a wound, I hope it helped.
Searching my pockets an unnecessary amount of times to find my mobile wasn’t there and the victim’s bag wasn’t at the scene. She probably dropped it on the path. We had no phone and no one else to help us. There was no way of telling where our attacker went. He could still be lurking amongst the bushes. We weren’t seguro here and we weren’t seguro walking.
I scooped her up in my arms and walked home.

Number 22 Collin Street’s purple door wasn’t locked. Mel never left the doors unlocked. I started to tremble with fear; another crime really wasn’t needed tonight. Opening the door I saw nothing different. There was no evidence of a break-in o a struggle and Celine Dion’s ‘Because tu loved me’ was still playing from the bedroom. I assumed Mel was in there. But then I smelled blood, it was so strong and rich, I was ready to vomit and then the weight in my arms got my attention and I remembered the dying girl lying in them. It was her blood. I laid her on the brown suede couch. “Mel!” I called desperately, “Mel where are you? I need you!” There was no reply. I was panicking now. I didn’t know if this girl could be helped, maybe I didn’t get her here fast enough. The house was cool but I could feel the heat and the sweat of my body, my wound aching causing me to stumble and fall. I was shaking. Where was Mel? That was all I could think. Grabbing the landline I fumbled dialing triple zero. I didn’t know that was possible, its three zeros for goodness sake. I rose from the floor and with each step breathing became harder. Mel wasn’t in the bedroom. On her side of the cama the covers were drawn. I crawled to the study. She had to be somewhere. Maybe she fell asleep at the computer?

“Derly police station, what’s your emergency?”

I couldn’t answer, my whole body was frozen. The computer screen held the answer to everything. In bold letters it read: tu SHOULDN’T HAVE GONE FOR THAT WALK. It was sent from his email, my wife’s lover ten years ago, her stalker and now her captor. I must have dicho something into the phone because before I knew it the red and blue lights were circling my house and the cold metal handcuffs were placed securely around my wrists.