Corviss
She had run around like a chicken with her head cut off the past week or so. She had reviewed Josh's CD and didn't touch the idea in her head that one of the songs might be referencing her, figuring it was best to just let it go. She had a few things she needed him to sign before their next court hearing and she liked things done sooner rather than later. She rang the bell, still in her work clothes, having come straight from the firm.
The door opened and Josh Corviss stood there, one hand on the doorframe, the other high on the door, leaning into the doorway. He was wearing black leather jeans, heavy black motorcycle boots, a silver wallet chain, a black button-down silk shirt with the first three buttons undone. His hair was jet-black, gelled into wavy spikes, he was wearing black eyeliner, and his eyes were half-lidded as he looked at her. "Ms. Makem," he greeted her with a predatory smile. "Come in." He took two steps back and leaned against the open door, watching her.
She eyed him, not much liking the way he smiled. "You have some event tonight?" she asked, walking in and checking the documents in her hands, making sure she had everything.
"Awards ceremony. I'm just going to be seen. To reassure people that Josh Corviss is still very much around." He closed the door behind her and leaned against it, arms folded, one boot planted on the door. "What can I do for you?" His voice was almost a purr and his eyes looked her over. "Did you listen to it?" he asked abruptly.
She glanced up. "Yes, have you not checked your e-mail? I sent you a big review on every song. And I need you to sign these." She said, removing a pen from her pocket and moving closer to the stairs, resting the documents on the banister and Xing or circling where he needed to sign.
He started laughing, tipping his head back. "I don't care about his stupid love songs," he replied, pushing off from the door and approaching her slowly, eyes fixed on her. "I don't care about his angst, or his loneliness, or his guilt over what we did. We don't agree on very many things, Ms. Makem. He hates me, and I hate him just as much. But I'm used to being hated, and I'm much better at it."
She raised her brows at him a bit, turning to face him, her back to the stairs, holding the documents out a bit. "Look, I won't hold you any longer. Just sign these and I'll be on my way.." She decided to just not comment on his words.
He kept walking toward her, slowly, swaggering, swaying his hips, his eyes locked on her, half-lidded. Stalking her. "You'll have to talk to him about that. I never agreed to sign anything, and I don't care about that right now. Because we were talking, he and I, and while we don't agree on many things, there is one thing we do agree on, although for different reasons." He smiled, a half-smile, with teeth. "You."
She took that as her cue that leaving would be a great idea. She tucked her papers against her chest and bowed her head a teeny bit. "That's... good. I'll leave you be, then." She said, moving to go around him.
He reached out an arm to block her, stepping in close. "He thinks...he's in love with you," Corviss hissed through his teeth. "Isn't that adorable? I'm not in love with you though...quite the opposite." In a fast move, he planted his hand on her chest and shoved her back roughly.
Her brows shot up at his early words. Love? Josh...? With her? She was shoved back before she could think too much on the subject, and where she was quite the talented high heel wearer but strange floors and stairs right behind her, well, that is hard to navigate. She dropped the papers in a flurry and she fell sharply against the hard marble of the stairs. The blows to her spine and the back of her head stunned her for several moments>
Corviss planted a boot on the marble stairs next to her hand, between her hand and her waist, and leaned over her. He cocked his head a bit. "I don't know what he sees in you to love," he spat the word, "but I can see what there is to want." He put a hand on her throat and leaned down to kiss her savagely, his other hand running over her suit, over her breast, down her side, gripping her hip tightly.
That snapped her back and she hooked her hand under his knee of the leg of the foot by her hand and she raised her hand up until pain shot through her shoulder at overexerting it, trying to push him over onto his back.
He hadn't been expecting that and he reared back, releasing her neck, trying to keep his balance. "Fuck," he hissed, taking a step backward but not falling over. He crouched, his eyes fiery. "You fucking bitch. I'll teach you what happens when you mess with me, just like I taught your future sister-in-law." He started for her again, hand outstretched to grab her wrist.
She kicked up at him with her sharp, thin heeled shoes. She let out a snarl at him, trying to scare him off with her fight, but she was still rather dizzy from the blow to the back of her head.
Her heel caught and ripped the sleeve of his shirt and he caught her ankle, pulling it to one side and going down on one knee on the stairs in front of her, between her legs, pushing her back down painfully into the marble stairs. "Hold still, Ms. Makem," he said in a parody of kindness, smiling sweetly. "It will be over faster if you don't fight. And I won't even mark you up, so Timber will never have to know."
She growled, hooked her legs around his hips, and sent the nails of both of her hands into his face, holding him there with her legs around his body.
He shrieked with pain, jerking back out of her reach and pressing his hands to his face. He was swearing, the sound muffled by his hands. "Fuck, no, you're not going to win," he snarled, but he wasn't looking at her when he pulled his hands back. There were seven cuts in his face, five of them bleeding freely. He stood as if pulled back sharply, lost his footing on the stairs and fell back, landing on his back on the marble floor with a gasp as the wind was knocked out of him.
She was up quick, bolting for the door, leaving the papers strew about and not caring to try and pick them up. Her heels made her unsteady.
Corviss rolled and snatched at one of her ankles, trying to bring her down again, his face a snarl, but his hand stopped short of her foot. "Run, Cat," he said and the voice was filled with fear, "he'll kill you, he's going to, run, please, fuck, shut up, you fucking pussy!" The voice changed in the middle, back to the gravelly snarl, and he reached out again. "Don't listen to him, I just want to get to know you better, we got off on the wrong foot."
She cried out, utterly confused and fearful. She just kept running, spurred more by the words. She had the door to her car unlocked as soon as she was out of the house and she half fell in side. she managed to tug the door closed and locked it before she was even sitting correctly. She was fumbling with her keys, her hands shaking. She got the car started and didn't even look, she just backed up, watching the door deathly scared he would appear and attack. She literally fell into her house once she got home, her keys still in the lock, gasping for air as if she ran the entire way home.
Tim was back on the couch, flipping through the channels with an open book on his knee. "Welcome home," he greeted her. "I have to tell you, I'm going to need to get out of here again soon, just to take a walk. I'm getting cabin fever." He looked up at her and his expression turned concerned. "Arleen? Are you all right? What's wrong? Did you see Chris?" He pushed off the couch and rounded it, taking her in his arms tightly.
She attempted words a few times and just couldn't manage anything beyond "Josh". She was shaking hard and her hands had blood on them from cutting the hell out of his face. She squirmed when he held her a bit too tightly over one of the forming lines of bruise on her back.
Tim's face darkened at the only word he could make out. "Oh my god...what did he do to you?" he whispered, forcing himself to stay calm. He cupped her face, bringing her eyes to meet his. "Arleen, love, just breathe. Are you hurt? Do you need to go to the hospital?"
She shook her head, closing her eyes and pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes, trying to calm down. "My back maybe... I don't know..." She whispered, her whole body shaking hard.
"Anything...anything else?" He was looking down at her, fearful, fearing the very worst. His heart was frozen, hardly beating at all, it seemed, from the pressure in his chest. He brushed her hair back, stroking her back gently.
"No...I got him away.." She showed him her fingers, several nails tinted red. "Got him away.." she repeated, pressing her face into his neck, gripping onto him.
He relaxed a bit at her words, though his eyes teared a bit at seeing her fingers stained with his blood. "God..." He took her shoes off gently, placing them neatly by the door, noting the red marks on her ankle from where he'd gripped it. He pulled her to her feet gently and led her into the kitchen where he started the kitchen sink's hot water.
She let him move her, still looking dazed. She absently rubbed where her head had smacked into the marble, holding herself around the middle with her other. She was shaken up, jumpy.
He saw her touch her head and examined it immediately, wincing. "You have a small scrape, it's not bleeding too badly." He was holding himself together firmly, for her, and he took her hands gently to wash the red off.
"The stairs.. Knocked me on the stairs." She said shakily, letting him wash her hands. Her freckles were stark against her skin with how pale she was over the whole thing.
"Oh lord, those marble stairs?" He felt her back tenderly. "We'll get some ice on them, love, I'll look at them." He dried her hands, then took her back out to the couch with a glass of water. "I'll be right. Back," he said firmly, then ran to fill a plastic bag with ice and grabbing a towel to wrap it in. Taking the makeshift icepack back out to the living room, he set it on the coffee table and unbuttoned her jacket, starting to slide it off.
She helped him, relaxing a bit as Trouble had jumped up next to her, curled up against her side. She unbuttoned her shirt and helped to get that off as well, relaxing more and more as time went on.
Tim's eyes widened at the red lines already darkening on her back, three of them, the worst of them straight across her shoulder blades. He pressed the ice pack to it gently. "God, why did you go there alone? Why did I let you?"
"Tim... I'm okay..." she tried to reassure him. "It's my fault, I trusted him. Fuck I'm a fool." She whispered, forcing herself to not flinch away from the cold ice on the hot, darkening skin.
He gritted his teeth. "We'll have him for this," he whispered. "Mary might have wanted to keep her own attack quiet, but he won't get away with this one." He still pressed the ice gently to her bruises, a few seconds on each, long enough to get cold but not to the point of pain, no pressure on them. He rested his other hand on top of hers, squeezing tightly.
"Tim..." She whispered, reaching back and setting her hand on his knee, closing her eyes. She didn't want to say anything and it was obvious by her tone "I don't... I'm not going to press charges."
"What? Arleen, that's ridiculous! He's hurt Mary, he's hurt you, and he's still out there, he'll hurt other women if we don't stop him now!" Tim gripped her hand and closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe deeply, to calm down. He opened his eyes again after a moment and looked at her. "Why aren't you going to press charges?" he asked, sounding far calmer now.
"Tim... stay calm." She said, opening her eyes and looking over her shoulder at him. "It's hard to explain and if I try to explain you'll just get more riled up and be all upset..." She squeezed his leg a little.
He looked down at her and saw the serious expression in her eyes. He set down the icepack and rounded the couch, going down on one knee in front of her and taking her hands. He met her eyes again, and he was calm and clear. "Tell me," he said quietly. "I will listen. I promise."
"The day after your episode when I went over to meet with his lawyer, she left without saying a word to him and left me there. So I told him that we were leaving but we started speaking, I can't recall why now, but we spoke and he cried about what happened between him and Mary. I've been by a few more times to discuss this or that about the case. He wasn't so bad, I got to know him. Today that wasn't the man I've gotten to know, Tim. That wasn't him at all." She ran her fingers through his hair. "He needs help. Christ I left him alone." She snagged her suit jacket to try and find her Blackberry. She had to call him, make sure he was okay. Was his face okay?
He caught at her hands. "Wait, you've been to see him, alone? More than once? Arleen -" He cut himself off, taking a breath. Listen, he'd promised to listen. "What do you mean, that wasn't the man you've gotten to know? Who was it?"
"I don't know how to explain it but it wasn't him!" She said, fighting against his grip on her hands. "I have to make sure he is okay, Tim." She whispered, looking over at him now.
"How do you expect to do that? You're not going back over there, and what if he answers the phone and you don't think he's okay, whatever that means? I'm sure he'll be fine, Arleen. Why are you so concerned about him?" He didn't release her hands yet, not convinced Josh needed or deserved her concern.
"Tim... I don't know. I just need to. Please, Tim?" She begged
He watched her silently for a moment. "You're not going back there," he warned her. "If there is something wrong, I'll go. Or we'll call the police, or an ambulance. Whatever is needed. But you are not going back there." He released her and went to find her phone, handing it to her reluctantly.
She took the phone and nodded a bit, giving him a look of thanks. She dialed Josh's number and pressed the phone to her ear with both hands, listening.
The phone rang six times and almost went to voicemail when it picked up. There was silence on the other end for a moment, then, "Catherine?" The voice was a whisper, hoarse, worried, tearful, and all Copeland.
"Josh! Are you okay?" She said into the phone, her resolve breaking a bit at how he sounded. She held the phone closer.
There was a long silence, then, "Yeah. For now. Yes." Then he broke, his breath hitching. "God, Cat, I almost...Jesus, I'm sorry..."
"I'm fine." She whispered, closing her eyes. "How is your face? I'm so sorry, I didn't know what else to do."
"It's...it's okay. It hurts. I haven't cleaned it up yet, I think I might have...have gotten some dye in the scratches." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I need help, Cat."
"I know... Do you need help with the cuts? Do you want to do this now?" She cringed at the idea of him getting dye in his cuts.
There was a silence for almost a minute. "Yes," he whispered finally, his voice shaking. "Help me. Please."
"Okay.. It's okay. Relax. Are you fine being off the phone until we get there?" She shot a look at Tim. She was going if he liked it or not, and he could come if he behaved. She wouldn't leave Josh to tough this out on his own.
Tim gave her a look and opened his mouth as if to protest, but he could hear Josh's voice on the phone and despite never having liked him, ever, he realized that the man needed serious help. He gritted his teeth. "Fine," he murmured.
"I'll...yes. I'll just stay here. I'm in the master bath, upstairs. End of the hall." He sounded calmer now, the knowledge that help was coming, that she was coming, giving him strength.
"I'll be there soon." She promised, exchanging quick goodbyes and her shuffling off quickly to change into jeans and a shirt. "Tim, I think I scratched him worse than I thought.. He says he might have gotten dye in the cuts so.. I think you might need to check out his face.. And promise me that you won't get angry or anything." She said, taking his hand and giving him a serious stare
He sighed. "I hate when you say that," he muttered, but nodded. "I'll be professional. I can promise you that."
She wrapped her arms around him, kissing his jaw. She pulled off after a few moments, gathered up everything, and got them over to Josh's.