1 Chapter 1 - Impressions

Thoko couldn't stand it anymore. Something had to change. She was never a weak person. Why had she let the situation get this far?

She straightened her spine subconsciously as she decided to never let this happen again. She looked around the bathroom as if to get her bearings. She looked at the shower stall and how the grime was beginning to build at the corners of the glass doors and wall.

She looked at the mirror. At first, her eyes only focused on the edges of the mirror and how the glass reflected itself along the edge. Then she looked at the rest of the bathroom through the mirror; the toilet seat left perpendicular in a haughty salute of indifference, the broken bits of glass on the floor under the medicine cabinet next to the door. Through the glass, the blood looked like a design on the cracked mirror.

With a small amount of alarm, she noted that the broken shards on the floor were represented by their absence on the actual mirrors by green strips of paint. She hadn't thought he had slammed her against it with such force. Her heart skipped a beat at the danger she had just survived.

She raised her hand to the back of her head. It throbbed with an intensity that reminded her of the look of hatred on his face. So cold, distant, and unfeeling he had been as his hand gripped her throat and forced her head against the glass with such force that he had choked her in the process. She could recall feeling the heat of his hand which contrasted his cold demeanor.

She took a deep breath and looked at herself in the mirror. He hadn't left her face bare of bruises, this time. He had broken the skin on her right cheek, her lower lip, and her skin was turning a purple-black.

He did a pretty good job of trying to kill her she thought to herself. She looked at her reflection hard, with no sympathy. "This will never happen again," she told herself firmly.

She nodded at her reflection. Wincing as her hips protested to the movement, she limped to the door. She wanted to rest against the door frame but she was afraid to find out what else he may have hurt.

Her left hand was at an odd angle from her left wrist. Oddly, it didn't hurt much. It was like a really bad sprain. She gingerly touched the skin on the top of her wrist and it felt like she had lit the whole hand on fire.

She crossed the hall in a shuffle, it hurt too much to raise her feet off the ground. Her target was the phone that sat on top of the little cupboard next to the bed. When she reached it, she called security, told them that she had been harmed and that she was calling the police. She then called the police, stating she wanted to file a complaint, grievous harm had been done to her in her home.

When she finally made it down the stairs and into the foyer a security officer had arrived. He opened the door as her foot touched the last step. After taking one looking at her he asked if she could walk.

She nodded. The man in his late thirties cleared his throat. He looked undecided for a minute before looking her straight in the eye.

"Ma'am, I am required to take you to the Medical Center for review. I can ask them to send an ambulance or drive you down. It is up to you."

He had a pleasant voice with a barely distinguishable drawl that could have been Georgian or any of the southeastern states east of Texas. She asked him if he'd be so kind as to escort her, her voice almost taking on the same lilt he had when he had spoken to her. He nodded and waited for her to walk out and lock her home.

As they reached the sedan she saw he had parked in reverse in the driveway. He hurried past her to open the door of the security car for her. He was gentle in assisting her into the car and ensuring she was belted in. Swiftly and with a slight furrow of his brow he sped out of her driveway and into the road towards the Medical Center.

Had she been paying him more attention she would have noticed the nervousness of the man. He had put on the lights but kept the siren off. He also drove well over the speed limit.

The idyllic picture of houses that turned into campus facilities went unnoticed by both of them. The upmarket property went on and on everything screamed money, safety, and class. It was not a scene that would normally harbor a participant of gender-based violence.

The security officer made sure to continue speaking to her. The only time he paused in speaking to her was when he was on the radio. Had she been less injured she would have heard the name he referred to her as and known her cover was blown. She heard sounds and those sounds didn't register with any meaning.

The questions he asked her were simple and easy to answer. She was annoyed at first but with his encouragement kept answering until they reached the Medical Center. If she had been a little more alert she would have seen how badly he parked the car.

She would have also seen his concern and how many security personnel stood ready to assist. That would have warned her that he knew exactly where she was. Had her injuries not been so grave she would have seen the battle in the eyes of those who knew not to drop to one knee before her.

And yet, somehow she knew well enough to dismiss them. She turned to the security officer who had given her a lift. Her swelling eyes narrowed at him.

"Not a word to him, it's not necessary, yet. And no additional security inside the center. Tell everyone else to lay low. Treat this as part of the plan."

The security officer paused unsure of whether her head injuries were talking or not. She swayed into him. "If he smells me on you, you're gonna be in big trouble. Tell him you answered the call."

The Medical Center was quiet. It was rare to have local traffic. The doctor on call was at the reception desk catching up on the latest campus gossip when the security vehicle pulled up. She motioned for one of the attendants to wheel a stretcher to the door.

She wasn't sure what to expect, the radio message had indicated severe injuries. However, the security officer who had called it in refrained from stating the actual injuries. She frowned, he probably was trying to keep the injured person conscious.

The last thing she expected to see as the security vehicle swiftly came to a halt in front of the Medical Center doors was the African teacher being assisted out of the car. The young African woman looked like someone had tried to pulverize her with a meat tenderizer. Her injuries looked ugly.

Her face was swollen, from her forehead to her chin. The lacerations on her face were in an unusual pattern, some were small, others were gashing open and would need cosmetic stitching.

Looking at the other woman's lips and eyebrows, she had an idea what had caused all this damage. She shook her head as the emergency patient was wheeled into the nearest examination room. Now that she knew who it was all she had to do was punch in the name or employee code.

At that moment her mind went blank. She ran her hand through her deep red hair. She sighed, this would be embarrassing but she'd have to ask.

"Thokozani Musa." The smooth, deep voice of the security guard supplied the name. The tone of his voice took on a strange intonation that sounded oddly African.

It contrasted so sharply with the man before her that she looked up at him alarmed, "Excuse me?" The incredulity in her voice showed her confusion.

"Her name is Thokozani Musa."

Jenny Harrow wasn't used to being dumb but something about the security officer made her throat constrict and her mouth dry. She swallowed visibly and touched the tip of her tongue to her lip. She asked him to spell it out for her.

She was intrigued by the silent "h" and how the last name was four letters and not the five or six she had been expecting. Looking at the name she pronounced it slowly, "Toe-koe-zahni Moosa?" Her gaze was a questioning one almost as if she sought approval from the man who radiated masculinity inches away from her. His short nod indicated that she got it right.

Within seconds all she needed to know about Thokozani Musa was on her electronic pad. Skimming through the African teacher's medical history she glanced over the generic data to allergies and medications that she had had adverse reactions to.

This was going to be interesting. She asked the security officer to wait in the lobby. They would have to send a collaborative report before submitting their individual reports.

As she put on her examination gloves Jenny got to it with the brisk, efficient but gentle manner that had landed her the position at The Medical Center. She had a lot to do to save this unfortunate woman from further injury and scarring. She kept her anger in check as she cursed the weak person who had put this stunning woman in harm's way.