one year to love

7:the knocker

Bailey was excited the entire drive to the art gallery where someone wanted to buy a painting of hers. She cranked up the radio to some french song I never heard before. Actually it was a pretty good song, especially for me having no idea what it was saying.

The buyer was a tall guy. You could tell he was rich by his fancy clothes. He was very polite, from what I could tell.

I really should've learned french before coming to France. Maybe Bailey could teach me some conversational words.

On the car ride home we came to a red light and Bailey looked over.

"Thanks for coming with me,"

"Anytime, plus it's not like I have anywhere else to go."

"That is true," we both laughed. The sun was starting to set and it looked beautiful. We continued to stare at each other with a smile.

We were finally starting to dry off after being in the river. Bailey's brown hair gained some pretty beach curls in it.

After a moment a loud honk and someone screaming some french (I'm assuming swear words) interrupted our staring. Bailey looked up to see a green light.

"DÉSOLÉ!!" Bailey yelled and stepped on the pedal.

"Désolé, is that french for sorry?"

"Yes, you're catching on!" I smiled to myself.

Unconsciously, I put my hand on the console. Bailey took one of her hands off the wheel and laid it on top of mine. Her hand was so soft and warm. My entire body had a weird jumpy feeling to it for some reason.

When we got home we sat on her couch telling each other random stories. She told me a story of when she was little how she got into a verbal fight with a bratty girl and told her off in English. She didn't get in trouble because no one knew what she was saying. Pretty smart.

I was telling her about how I've never dated anyone before when someone knocked on her door.

"Sorry, hold on." Bailey said while getting up. She opened the door and some tall guy barged in and immediately pushed Bailey to the ground.

"What the hell?" I started to say as he began yelling, thankfully in English.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? YOU THINK YOU CAN REPORT ME TO THE POLICE FOR SOMETHING YOU DESERVED?  YOU ARE A LIAR." The man yelled and the voice filled her entire apartment. Bailey was slowly backing away on the ground.

"Please leave me alone," she said quietly. The man looked over at me.

"Who is that bitch? Another member of your lesbian cult?" His voice got quieter but also scarier. Bailey tried to get up, but was pushed back down. I slowly backed away and grabbed my phone. Without taking my eyes off the man I dialed 911. The number didn't work.

Fuck fuck fuck, of course it's a different number in France. I looked up what the emergency number was, trying to prevent the man from noticing. I dialed again, this time hitting 112. I ran into the kitchen so he wouldn't hear me.

"There's a man in the house and -" I began.

"Quelle?"

"FUCK. Anglais! I speak Anglais!" A different voice picked up the phone and asked what was wrong in English. I told her where we were and what was happening.

"We'll be there in less than 5 minutes." That's not soon enough. I grabbed a knife and went back.

"Stop." I said holding up the knife. Bailey used the distraction to get up and kick him in the balls. She ran next to me.

He began to walk towards us. My entire being was shaking.

Then we heard police sirens in the distance. I smiled. His facial expression dropped as he ran out of the apartment.

Bailey sat down on the floor and I joined her.

"Are you okay? Who is that?" A tear ran down her face.

"My ex. He was my long time boyfriend but I never truly liked him. I didn't know how to break up with him because I was scared of what he would do to me. Until one day he caught me making out with a girl and it got really bad. I got the courage to go to the police recently." I pulled her into my arms and hugged her. She silently cried on my shoulder.

"Are you hurt?" She shook her head."The police are coming."

"Thank you, Faye. I'm so glad you're here."