My fucking angel in pajamas

The calmness disorients me. It must have been a nightmare, yes, it must have been that. I reach out and am surprised not to find the rest of my bed. I open my eyes and see him sitting on the sofa across from me, legs apart, elbows resting on them, hands clasped, and his gaze fixed on me. My heart races, I sit up abruptly and sink into the armchair where I was resting, trying to increase the distance between us.

“You were beginning to worry me,” he says, sitting up properly.

“Who are you?” I ask, not letting my guard down. “Where am I?”

“Oh, you’re welcome, no?” he responds, getting up and taking a bowl with reddish water from the table, and putting a cloth with the same color stains in it.

He leaves me alone and confused. I look around for an exit, straining my ears to try and figure out where he is and what his intentions are, but I can’t find either an escape route or an understanding of his motives. Soon, I hear his footsteps getting too close again, my body goes on alert, and my breathing quickens as I realize the terrible reality: Mauricio tried to rape me.

“I suppose you have a good story for what just happened,” he comments as he sits back down in front of me, “or at least I hope so, to justify myself to the police when they come to arrest me for hitting a minor.”

“He wasn’t a minor,” I say, a little calmer but still on edge, finally recognizing my savior.

“That’s a relief because he was drooling on the sidewalk across the street...” he murmurs more to himself than to me, and upon seeing my frightened expression, he adds, “Don’t worry, I didn’t hit him that hard either.”

He returns to the position where I found him when I woke up, and his expression is even more intimidating to me.

“I’m listening,” he assures me, making it clear that I have no choice.

“It was a date. At first, everything went terribly wrong, but when I was about to leave, he wouldn’t let me. He followed me outside the bar and attacked me,” I summarize, hoping it will be enough to let me go.

“You were lucky,” he remarks upon my hurried summary. “I was about to go to bed, as you can see,” he says, sitting up and indicating his body dressed in a white t-shirt and gray cotton pants.

“Thank you, I think it’s best if I go home now,” I whisper, feeling like I’m bothering him.

“Not yet, I would like to check you over,” he says, getting up and approaching me. “Don’t worry, I’m a doctor,” he adds, noticing my terrified expression.

Despite still feeling threatened, I let him examine my head calmly. After all, I don’t think I have the courage to go to an emergency room and explain what happened.

“Everything seems fine,” he comments, gently palpating my skull. “When I saw you lying on the ground with your neck covered in blood, I feared the worst. I brought you home and started cleaning you up, looking for any injuries, but there was nothing. I thought maybe you cut your scalp, but no. How did you end up covered in blood?” he asks, moving away from me again.

“I bit him,” I whisper, feeling a chill run through my body.

“I’m sorry, what?” he inquires, astonished.

“I bit him,” I repeat a little louder. “He tried to kiss me, and I bit him.”

“That was very brave of you,” he remarks, giving me a compassionate smile.

“But it doesn’t make up for the stupidity of going out with him in the first place,” I say, feeling like the biggest fool in the world.

“You can’t know those things with just one look, you only discover them when they’re about to happen,” he responds.

I nod and wipe the tears that have silently started to run down my face. I take a deep breath and stand up, not knowing where my bag and shoes are, but I don’t care, this could have ended a million times worse.

“Thank you for everything, I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“Dante,” he answers, starting to walk over to a small cabinet. He takes out his phone and orders a car, then pulls out some money from a drawer and extends his hand to me, saying, “For the taxi.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay for it at home. You’ve already done so much for me and I’ll be eternally grateful.”

“Whatever you say,” he responds, putting the bills back in the drawer. “This way,” he adds, starting to walk.

Silently, I follow him to the door. He goes out first and checks that everything is in order outside, then he lets me pass. Instinctively, I look around and soon discover that what happened was on the sidewalk across the street, but there is no one waiting for me angrily. We don’t say anything until the arrival of the taxi forces us to say goodbye.

“Goodbye and thank you so much for everything,” I say, getting into the car.

“You’re welcome, just be more careful next time,” he points out, closing the car door.

The taxi drives off as soon as I give the driver the address. I turn in my seat and see him still standing on the sidewalk, watching me leave.