Mitch Grassi is a Beautiful Man

ANGELS OF DEATH

MITCH'S POV:

"Mitch, long time no see." He looked me over head to foot.

I don't think I would have recognized you if I hadn't been watching your remarkable transformation since we last saw each other. Is all of this because of me?" He smiled at me like some proud father at his kid's graduation.

I couldn't tell if this was some horrific dream or real. I was frozen where I stood. I couldn't move a muscle.

He took a few steps toward me and slowly raised his hand to cup my face. I could only move my eyes. My eyes were fixated on that hand. The hand that had caressed my face once before. It had preceded a soft and lovely kiss and later it had cut me, beat me and held my arm behind my back while he raped me.  Somehow that hand was separate from him. It was somehow disembodied, hypnotizing, unstoppable.  Within an inch from my face, I heard Scott from the other side of the door, "Mitch?!"

"Mitch?! Are you in there? Let me in!"

SCOTT'S POV:

It had only been a few minutes after Mitch had left that I saw Esther looking disheveled talking to Avi. I dropped my conversation with a producer mid-sentence and went straight to her.

"What happened?"

She looked at me and her eyes widened, "Where's Mitch?"

"He's meeting with you. He received a text from you."

"No, he didn't. Someone grabbed me from behind, grabbed my purse and locked me in a closet. I just got out when someone heard me banging on the door."

"Banquet Hall Room 1801. Call security!" I yelled at them. I turned and ran as fast as I could.

I quickly found the room and tried to open the door. It wouldn't budge. "Mitch! Mitch! Are you in there? Let me in!"

MITCH'S POV:

I took in a deep breath and started to scream "Sco....!" But the hand quickly covered my mouth. His other hand took my arm and swung it behind me and dropped me to the floor. It was happening again! But it couldn't! I was different! My eyes started to blur with unshed tears. Behind his hand that was over my mouth, I tried to scream. It was muffled but was clearly heard by Scott.

"Mitch! Mitch! Let me in!"

I could hear him moving the handle back and forth and trying to push the door open. Somehow he had managed to lock it when he had closed it behind me.

"Mitch!" The door handle rattled loudly and incessantly.

He lifted me off the floor completely by gripping my hair and started to drag me away from the door. I think he was going to take me out the other side door. He had gripped an arm around my neck and was lifting me away. Away from Scott. My mouth free, I started screaming, "Scott! Scott! Help me! Please!" my hands were pulling and scratching at his arm that was around my neck like a vise, but he was starting to move even faster.

He abruptly came to a stop. The abrupt stop in momentum ended up swing me to the front of him. I was still being held to him by his steely arm, but I could see why he had stopped.

Avi and Kevin were standing side by side in front of the other door. They looked like angels of death or hit men or hit men angels of death. I don't know which. Avi was dressed head to toe in black and Kevin was dressed head to toe in white.  All that was missing were wings or AK-47s. Either way, they looked like they were going to tear him apart limb from limb.

Behind us the door was throbbing. It sounded like there were 10 Scotts throwing themselves at the door. While he held me in place and Avi and Kevin blocked the other door, Scott finally broke through and knocked the door off its hinges. Scott looked like God himself, pissed off and ready to throw him into the pits of hell.

He pulled me back to the only corner left. Toward a large, tall window. He grabbed a chair with his other hand while he pulled us back and swung it through the window. The window shattered. A heavy, cold wind was sucked into the room. He had pulled his arm that had been around my throat tighter when he had swung the chair. I wasn't getting any air and my arm felt dislocated from when he had pulled it behind me earlier.

"Nobody come any closer or Birdy Mitch is going for his first and last flying lesson," he spat at them.

Scott, Avi and Kevin who had been walking toward him stopped. Scott was looking directly at his eyes and ignoring me for the moment. Avi was glancing toward Scott trying to coordinate some plan. Kevin was looking at me, clearly worried about how red or blue my face was most likely turning.

Then I felt it. It was sticking into my shoulder blade. I don't know why I hadn't felt it before or seen it. But there was no mistaking what it was. My dad had taken me shooting almost every weekend when I was a kid and for a time, it had been a cherished way for us to bond.  He had a gun. All of a sudden I was no longer terrified for my safety, but the safety of Scott, Avi and Kevin. Even if he did fling me out the window from the 18th floor, he could still manage to hurt if not kill one of them.  That. I could not let happen. That. I had to stop somehow.

I had my hands clutched on his arm that was across my throat, pulling and scratching with everything I had. I could feel him pull away from me just enough to put his other hand into his jacket and reach for the gun.

No! I couldn't. I couldn't let him hurt my friends. I couldn't let him hurt Scott. It just wasn't going to happen.

As he took a step back to pull out the gun, instead of trying to pull his arm off me, I held on to it and pulled my legs up, and kicked against a piano that was just slightly to the left of us with both feet.  I pushed out with my legs with everything I had. I used the leverage to push my body back into his. It worked!

I pushed him back off his feet and out the window as my body swung back and out the window with him.