“Police, state your emergency,” the dispatcher says.
“I need to have someone come and serve a TRO,” I manage, keeping my voice as low as possible.
Timmy doesn’t seem to process what I’m doing. Instead, he barrels on with his accusations.“You were on a date!”
“I wasn’t on a date,” I snap, my voice steadier than I feel. “I was at the courthouse. Getting arestraining order.”
“I can’t believe you,” he says, his voice now low.
I can’t bear to look him in the eye, and he notices.
“Look me in the eye! Do me the courtesy of looking me in the eye!”
I glance up, and the sight of him makes my mouth tremble.
“Fuck you,” he says, his voice now low. “There she is. That’s who you really are.”
Great. He thinks I’m laughing at him. Last time he thought that, he broke my skull.
“My mouth is trembling because I’mscaredof you, Timmy. That’s why.”
He shakes his head. “I should’ve known you would do this,” he says. “You’re such an abusive cunt.How could you?”His voice is haunting, hollow. He freezes, his face shifting from anger to disbelief. “How could you do this tome?”
As he rants and rambles, my mind tries to map out escape routes.
It won’t be easy to get out of here, especially with Saber.
Timmy is between me and the front door, leaving the sliding door at the front as the only option. I start mentally preparing to leap to the door, unlock it and escape.
Before I can respond, there’s a knock at the door.“POLICE!”a voice booms.
Timmy backs down the hallway as I open the door to see four officers, including the female cop with the pink handcuffs.
I hand over the paperwork, and they serve Timmy with the TRO.
He looks stunned. “But… I live here. My stuff is here.”
“You’ll have one opportunity to come back with a police escort to grab essentials,” one of the officers explains. “But you can’t come back here alone.”
“I need clothes, shoes, my medication—” He’s panicking now, his voice cracking in disbelief.
“Grab what you need for right now,” another officer cuts him off.
Timmy moves sluggishly, clearly reluctant, but he gathers a shirt, his flip-flops, and a few other items. Then, escorted by two of the officers, he’s gone.
Heart pounding, I thank the others, and they leave.
I did it. The TRO has been served. And for now, the apartment is quiet.
An hour later, I’m still hyper-aware of every sound. Every creak in the building feels like a harbinger of doom.
I know better than to think a piece of paper will keep Timmy away.
When the knock comes, it’s softer this time. “Police,” a voice calls.
I open the door to find Timmy standing with two officers.
“He’s here for an escorted visit to pick up some essentials,” the officer explains.