Episode7
964 Words
“Rue, what the f*ck happened to you?”
Cooper’s voice cracked the silence of his office the moment I stepped in.
He was already standing.
Already staring.
Like he was trying to understand how one person could walk in looking calm while bleeding chaos onto his floor.
I closed the door behind me.
“It didn’t go the way you said it would,” I replied evenly. “Mr Richardson didn’t take your little warning seriously. He tried to r**e me.”
The words landed heavily in the room.
For a second, Cooper didn’t speak.
He just stared at me.
Then his expression shifted.
“Wait—he tried to what? What happened? Where is he?”
Before I could answer, noise erupted outside.
Shouting.
Running footsteps.
A sharp, rising panic from the main floor of the club.
Cooper turned immediately.
I followed him out without thinking.
Something was wrong.
Something had already gone too far.
The moment we stepped into the corridor, everything collided at once.
Pain. Noise. Movement.
And then I saw him.
Mr Richardson.
He was being dragged out by staff, half-supported, half-carried. A thick curtain had been wrapped around him as a makeshift cover, but it was soaked in blood now. His face was pale, twisted in rage and pain at the same time.
And then he saw me.
“You b*tch!” he screamed, voice breaking. “I’ll make you pay for this! Give me my shirt back!”
He tried to lunge forward, but his legs barely held him.
Cooper stepped between us immediately.
“Mr Richardson,” he said sharply, “you need a hospital. Right now. We’ll handle this later.”
Richardson was still shaking with anger, still trying to reach past him. “She attacked me!”
Cooper didn’t flinch.
“There are cameras in the private rooms,” he said firmly. “Everything will be reviewed. The police will see exactly what happened.”
That was enough.
Not calm.
But enough.
Richardson’s breathing turned rough, uneven. His eyes stayed locked on me even as the staff dragged him toward the exit.
The sound of sirens grew louder outside.
Closer.
Cooper turned back to me slowly.
His eyes moved over me like he was seeing me for the first time.
Like I had become something he didn’t know how to place.
“Why are you wearing his shirt?” he asked.
I glanced down at myself.
Only then did I fully register it.
The torn fabric. The blood. The borrowed shirt tied around me.
“He tore my top,” I said simply.
Cooper dragged a hand through his hair.
For once, he looked like he had no control over the situation.
“Go get yourself checked,” he said finally, voice lower now. “Patch yourself up.”
That was all.
No more questions.
No arguments.
Just that.
Then he turned and walked back into his office like the world hadn’t just shifted under all of us.
I went to the staff room in silence.
My bag was still there.
I picked it up, avoiding everyone’s eyes.
No one stopped me.
No one spoke.
But I could feel them watching anyway.
Whispers starting behind me.
Stories forming in real time.
I didn’t stay long enough to hear them.
In the restroom, I turned on the sink and cleaned myself as best as I could.
Blood washed off in slow streams.
Some of it had already dried.
Some of it didn’t want to leave.
My hands shook slightly as I worked.
Not fear.
Just exhaustion catching up in pieces.
When I was done, I stared at my reflection for a moment.
I didn’t look like myself.
Or maybe I did.
Just a version I hadn’t seen in a long time.
I left the club soon after.
A cab ride home felt too quiet. Too normal for what had just happened.
At home, I texted Zia.
I didn’t tell her everything.
Just enough.
I said there had been an incident. That I had been hurt. That it was handled.
Almost immediately, she called.
I stared at the screen before answering.
I should have known she wouldn’t wait.
“Rue?” Her voice came instantly, sharp with panic. “Are you okay? Did you call the police? Where are you?”
“Zia,” I said quickly, trying to steady her before she spiralled, “slow down. I’m fine. I’m home now. He was taken to the hospital.”
Silence.
Then—
“Why is he in a hospital?” she snapped. “He should be in a cell.”
I hesitated.
I had forgotten that part.
The truth wasn’t fully shaped in my mouth yet.
“He… got hurt,” I said carefully. “From broken glass.”
There was another pause.
Then a sharp sound.
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
Confused.
Zia never hung up first.
Not like that.
Not without making sure I was okay.
And then it hit me.
She wasn’t done.
She was coming.
Twenty minutes.
That’s all it would take.
I moved quickly.
Straight into the bathroom.
The shower hurt more than I expected. Water hitting small cuts on my arms made me flinch harder than I wanted to admit. I stood under it anyway, forcing myself to breathe through it.
By the time I stepped out, the silence in the apartment felt different.
Like it was waiting.
I dressed fast.
Long sleeves.
Anything to hide what I didn’t want explained yet.
I was still pulling the fabric down properly when I heard it.
“Rue!”
Her voice.
From the living room.
Closer than I expected.
“Rue!”
“I’m in here!” I called back immediately.
My heart tightened slightly.
Zia is already here.
- Writer
