I wish I could rip out a page of my memory
'Cause I put too much energy in him and me
Can't wait til I get through this phase 'cause it's killing me
Too bad we can't rewrite our own history

“You want any sugar?”

She didn't speak; she simply shook her head 'no'. He sighed at the sad sight of his best friend. She had gone from the bright ray of sunshine that lit up any bad day, to a woman who was afraid to make eye contact or open her mouth.

He grabbed the mug off the counter and walked over to the bar stool that she was seated on, and sat it in front of her silently. He couldn't take his eyes off the dried blood in the corner of her mouth.

She took a drink of the tea and winced, either because it was hot or because it stung the fresh cut on her lip. When she winced, so did he.

They had been best friends since they were kids. For a while they had lived in completely different states, but she had moved to New York a few years ago to be closer to him. For the first six months she was there, it was like they had gone back to when they were kids again. Whenever she was with him, she was always smiling. She never went out of the house without looking good in a hat and a cute pair of heels; she couldn't walk down the street without a little bounce and giggle.

In the three years she had been with her boyfriend, Lance had seen her change from that person to the one who was in front of him now – wearing dirty sweats with a bloody lip and a bruised eye.

She had knocked on his door at two in the morning as he was talking to his boyfriend on the phone, and he had opened the door to see this, tears streaming down her face.

Such a mystery when he's here with me
It's hard to believe I'm still lonely
Chances fading now, patience running out
This ain't how it's supposed to be

“Layla,” he said softly. “What did he do to you?”

She didn't say anything to him. He saw another tear slip down her cheek and her bottom lip stick out slightly before she covered it up by putting the mug up to her mouth.

“Layla, I know it was him that did this to you,” he said. “And if you don't want me to walk out of this house right now to find him and kill him myself, you'd better start talking to me.”

He gently grabbed the mug away from her lips and sat it down on the counter in front of her, hoping the missing distraction would lead her to talk. Her hands froze mid-air without the warmth of the mug in them.

It wasn't the first time Lance had noticed that instead of sitting confidently, she now sat with her arms at her sides, her elbows drawn in close to her and her knees clenched tightly together. Everything about her screamed that he had planted a seed of self-consciousness in her, telling her every single thing that was wrong with her body and appearance.

It had been a few months ago that he noticed her condition was escalating. The first time he considered that Lucas might be abusing her was when they were out together shopping with Lance's boyfriend. They had stopped for a coffee and as they were sitting in the booth in deep discussion, Michael had raised his hand to express what he was trying to say. She had immediately grabbed Lance's arm and hid her face away behind it in fear.

He suspected it, but he didn't say anything because she constantly accused him of not trying hard enough to like Lucas. Every fight they had in the past three years was because of him, and he didn't want to start another one and risk the chance that she would never talk to him. He wanted her to trust him.

He had never seen any visible signs that Lucas laid a hand on her until tonight.

I'm having nightmares from sleeping with the enemy
How do we reverse the chemistry?
I don't want us to be the end of me
This love is taking all of my energy, energy, my energy
Taking all of my energy, energy, my energy
Taking all of my energy

Instead of talking, she continued to sit quietly, staring away from him and letting a tear run down her cheek.

“Layla, this is killing me,” he said. “You're bloody and bruised up and you won't tell me what happened to you. You won't even say a word to me.”

She continued to stare straight out in front of her, and he was about to call his boyfriend for backup when she turned her head and looked at him.

“He punched me,” she said, her eyes glistening with tears. “And he kicked me.”

He moved a piece of her blonde hair out of her eyes and accidentally moved his finger over the cut on her eye. It was red and he could feel that it had started to swell.

“He kicked me twice in the stomach,” she said. “Then he just stopped. And I came here.”

He reached over and lifted up her tank top; she inhaled a sharp breath when he revealed a large, navy blue bruise below her ribcage that almost made him gasp out loud.

“Layla, why did you let him do this to you?” he said in shock.

“It was my fault,” she said, obviously feeling pain. “I left the house a mess and he hates that. I know better.”

“How can you justify what he's done to you? You could have a broken rib!”

She grabbed her tank top out of his hands and pulled it back down. “He's stressed out, and I'm not making it any better. I shouldn't even be here, he hates that too.”

“He hates it because he knows I'll see what he's doing to you,” he said. “He knows I won't let it happen.”

“I shouldn't have come,” she said, and stood up off the stool, balking from the pain in her side. “I need to go back before he comes looking for me.”

“Layla, you're not going anywhere,” he said, and grabbed her wrist. The action made her jump, and she immediately drew her free arm in around her body and she turned her face away from him and clenched her eyes closed, preparing for a sharp hit to the face.

Seems only like yesterday, not even gravity
Could keep your feet off the ground when you were with me
How could two be as one then become so divided now?
There's no use hiding from misery, no

He was shocked at her reaction.

“It's okay,” he said, trying to comfort her, pulling her a little closer to him. “He's got you so scared that you think I'm going to hit you, Lay. Can't you see what he's doing to you? I'm your best friend, I would never hit you.”

She looked at him and slowly, as she realized that he wasn't a threat, her body relaxed. He pulled her toward him and wrapped his arms around her carefully. Once she felt his arms wrap around her, she buried her face into his chest and started crying.

She cried hard, and with each shudder and shake of her body, he held her tightly. He tried to resist holding her so tight that he would aggravate the rib injury and any others he might have inflicted on her, but it was hard.

He had watched Lucas ruin his best friend, this beautiful girl with the warm heart and a killer sense of city-girl fashion. This girl who, even though she confessed to a slight crush on him as a child, reacted to his coming-out by asking, “So what?” When he introduced her to Michael, she instantly had accepted him into her heart and always asked if he was coming along with them instead of getting jealous, thinking he was stealing Lance away. She was such a fixture in his life that his mother joked she was the adopted child of the family.

The fact that now she was so terrified that she rushed to defend herself against him because she feared he was going to hit her, made him fit to kill.

Such a mystery when he's here with me
It's hard to believe I'm still lonely
Chances fading now, patience running out
This ain't how it's supposed to be

I'm having nightmares from sleeping with the enemy
How do we reverse the chemistry?
I don't want us to be the end of me
This love is taking all of my energy, energy, my energy
Taking all of my energy, energy, my energy
Taking all of my energy

When she finally stopped crying, he had fixed her a fresh cup of tea and ran a washcloth under warm water.

“Tell me what happened, Lay,” he said as he wiped her injuries softly with the washcloth.

“He came home and he was already mad,” she said. “His boss has been really rough on him. He humiliates him in front of all of his co-workers. He came home and the house was a wreck. We're shorthanded at work and I had to stay late tonight. I didn't get home until after seven and he was already home. He gets so mad when he gets home and I'm not there.”

She breathed in to gather her composure, and Lance saw how difficult it was for her to tell him this.

“He started berating me for being at work so late, not having dinner ready for him when he got home, the house being a mess...then he started yelling at me while I was making dinner because of what I wore to work today. He said it was too slutty, that I shouldn't be dressing like that around all the guys.”

One of Layla's passions was fashion, and she worked at a high-end clothing store downtown in the city. She worked around quite a few men, but most of them were married or already dating, and had no interest in being anything but friends with her.

“So I went to go change.” Tears started welling in her eyes again as he wiped the blood off the cut on her eye. “And I took too long to change my clothes and burned dinner a little. He ate it but he chastised me the whole time. I tried to satisfy him by letting him watch TV in peace and bringing him a couple of beers, but all he did was sit there and let it all build up. I got tired around one and wanted to go to bed because I'm supposed to work tomorrow, but he didn't want me to go so he threw me against the wall and started yelling.”

One of the tears started to fall down her cheek so he wiped it away with the cloth.

“He unleashed on me,” she said, pain in her voice. “I said I was sorry but he didn't want me to talk. All he wanted to do was hit me – so I let him take his anger out on me and hit me all he wanted. And then he started talking about you and how much I hang out with you...he called you that word I hate.”

He nodded understandingly, knowing already it was a homophobic slur.

“I lost it. He can hit me and call me all the names he wants, but he doesn't have to bring you into it.” She wiped away a tear herself. “I yelled back, and that's when he punched me. I fell down on the ground and then he kicked me. He spit on me, then he went to bed. I left the house after he fell asleep, he doesn't even know I'm here. He's going to be so mad if he wakes up and figures out I'm not home.”

“He's not going to do anything,” he said reassuringly. “Because even if he comes here, he'll have to get through me to get to you. And he won't get through me.”

Now I can feel you changing me
And I can't afford to slip much further
From the person I was meant to be, whoa
I'm not afraid to walk alone
Not giving up, I'm moving on
Before it gets too deep
'Cause you're taking all of my energy

After he finished cleaning all the dried blood off her face, he called his boyfriend – he had rushed off the phone so quickly when she had showed up that he didn't have time to explain what had happened. When he set the phone back down on the charger, he looked at her.

She was sitting on his couch in front of the TV, mindlessly looking at it but he could bet that she didn't even know what was on. She was no longer crying, but she couldn't hide the damage he had done to her tonight. He wondered how long it had been since she had smiled, or if she even did anymore.

“I don't know how this happened,” she said, feeling his eyes burning on her. “I'm not that person that lets someone beat her, am I?”

“No,” he responded. “I don't think anybody lets someone do this to them, Layla.”

“I have nightmares,” she said. “I run away from him and he finds me. He always finds me.”

“He won't. Not this time. You ran away and this time, he won't get to you.”

She scoffed. “Lance, you can say that, but he will. He knows where you live, and he knows you're the first person I'd run to – the only person I'd run to.”

He went silent, because he knew that was true.

“If I go back now, I can probably sneak in the house. I can sneak back into bed and try not to wake him up.”

“And if he's awake?” he asked. “If you go back, you are that person that lets herself get beat. Is that what you want to be?”

“No.”

“I don't want that either.” He walked over and sat down next to her. “No one should have the right to hurt you like he is. He's not only hitting you, he's completely changing who you are. He's making you into someone he can control. He needs control over everything in his life.”

“Everything used to be so good,” she said. “We were like you and Michael. He's always been moody, but I liked that dark, brooding guy. Now, if I could erase him from my life, I think I would.”

“You think you would?” he asked. “I know you would. You're stronger and better than this. Remember when we were eleven and we got in that fight?”

“You beat me to the top of the tree in my backyard,” she said with a smile, and he was glad to see it. “Then my mom gave us ice cream and you stole some of mine to feed it to the dog.”

“And you hauled off and punched me in the arm for it,” he said. “We didn't talk or play with each other for a week because we were so mad.”

“You haven't stolen my ice cream since.”

“And I won't dare to. You punch hard. You're a fighter, but this time you're not punching. You're letting him beat you and steal your soul, and you're not fighting back.”

I'm having nightmares from sleeping with the enemy
How do we reverse the chemistry?
I don't want us to be the end of me
This love is taking all of my energy

I'm having nightmares from sleeping with the enemy
How do we reverse the chemistry?
I don't want us to be the end of me
This love is taking all of my energy, energy, my energy
Taking all of my energy, energy, my energy
Taking all of

“I don't think I know how to fight back anymore,” she said.

“Just by coming here tonight you're fighting back,” he whispered. “And if you don't remember how, that's okay because I do.”

She looked over at him and he saw the fire that had been missing from her for so long.

“I finally feel so angry at him that I don't want to go back,” she said. “I'm tired of this taking all of my energy away from me. I want my life back. But I don't even know where to start.”

“We're going to start by going to the hospital,” he said, grabbing both of their coats off the arm of the couch where he had placed them earlier. “Then we're going to the police station. We're filing a complaint against him and getting an order of protection for you.” He helped her put her coat on and noticed that while she was still unsteady on her feet because of her rib injury, she was standing taller. “Then I'm taking you to Michael's house and I'm going to go pack up your stuff and bring it over here. I'm not letting you go back to that house, Layla.”

“He could hurt you, Lance.” Her face was covered in concern and fear for her friend.

“He can't hurt me any more than he's already hurt me by hurting my best friend.” He threw his own coat over his shoulders and adjusted it. “There's nothing that hurts worse than that.”

He wrapped his arm around her back and helped her walk over to the door. He knew she probably had a fractured rib at least, but he looked over to see a smile on her face.

“I'm lucky to have someone like you for a friend,” she said. “Someone who can still remember who I am when I'm so lost that I can't.”

He smiled back. “How could I forget you? I never could. Never, Layla.”

“Can we go for donuts before we go to the hospital?” she asked as he opened the door for her. “I'll buy. A whole box for you – because I still owe you for that punch.”

He laughed. “Sure. That sounds good.”

She walked out of the door on her own, clutching her rib but trying to stand proud and do it on her own. As he walked out behind her and closed the door behind him, he vowed that he would let her do as much of it on her own as she could and needed to, but he would never let her be alone in the fight.

You're killing me
You're taking all of me, yeah, oh
This love is taking all of my energy

Song credit: “Energy” by Keri Hilson