Jonathan always wears a suit, along with an extraordinary smile, even when killing people. But today was the first time he didn’t have a suit, wet shirt, only the middle button and water dripping down onto his open collar...
He squatted in front of me and just looked at me, looking down from my swollen face to my torn clothes and skirt, which almost didn’t cover my legs. He never asked how I felt or what happened.
I didn't want to cry and I turned my face and tried to hold my head up to prevent the tears flowing down my cheeks. But he put his warm arms around me. “Desiree,” he said my name and held the back of my head, burying it in his shoulder.
I cried and complained, "Why did you come so late?" beating my fist against his chest.
I was only a little girl of fifteen, needing a shoulder to lean on, some tender loving care and safe shelter. I just kept crying and hitting him with my fists until I was worn out and eventually calmed down.
Then he let go of me, holding up my swollen face and wiping the tears from my face. “Wait, I'll take you home right now... “Jonathan said, and I nodded.