Chapter 1: Greg's Lonely Existence Ends

It was a dark and dreary afternoon in Loser Ville ... Oops, wrong story. Let's start again.

A nice summer day by all standards found me relaxing and sipping a jack on the rocks while catching a few rays on the patio by my pool.

But wait, before I get into my story I guess you would like to meet me. My name is Gregory Thomas and I am a 28 year old confirmed bachelor. I went to college and studied computer programming and graduated with my master's degree Suma-Cum-Laude which meant I was in the top 5 percent of my class. I was quite proud of that accomplishment. It seems the real world didn't share that view. Since I had very little experience to draw on I did not get hired. I had a few offers from head hunters wanting to farm me out on contract at pauper's wages but I turned them down.

Through my network of contacts in the business I found out about a company needing some specialized programming that their in-house people could not handle. It turned out that I had done my master's thesis on that very same programming area. I contacted them offering up my services on a contractor basis and they jumped at the chance. As a result I was pulling in a very respectable living while doing almost all of the work at home. I only had to commute to their facility about once every two weeks to update their computers to the latest iteration of my program. I could do smaller tweaks by phone using a modem.

Enough of what I do. Something about me now. Even though I have managed to stay single over the years, I will have to admit that I got too close for comfort and almost ended up married a couple of times to very alluring ladies. Most of the ladies I meet have said that they find me attractive to the point of being hot. I am quite physically active and keep my body in good shape which I feel is the only healthy thing to do. I have seen too many desk jockeys develop a middle age paunch while in their low twenties. Some of them end up with heart attacks too early in life. That's definitely not for me so I work out and run to keep the old blood pump going strong. I have wavy brown hair and hazel eyes that the girls seem to like. I've gotten more than my share of smiles from the lady joggers I pass on the trails. While I don't have weightlifter's muscles I do have a set that seems to handle the job quite well. A brief stint in the military fine tuned my physique to what I felt was as close to perfection as I could manage. The ladies I met along the way agreed with that assessment so I was happy.

Ok, that's enough self praise to last a lifetime so on with my story. So there I was on my patio when I heard someone pounding on my front door so hard I was worried about the continued health of the hinges. I made a bee line through the house and opened the door. My heart jumped up into my throat as I observed a totally naked vision of beauty in the form of a young girl on my doorstep crying her eyes out big time. I was stupefied for a while as I tried to believe what I was seeing. I stood there drinking in the beauty of this nearly perfect example of God's handiwork at its best. She had shoulder length blonde hair which framed an angelic face. That face was the type that you fell in love with at first sight. Her sparkling blue eyes drew my attention in like a magnet. From her budding breasts down to her well toned statuesque legs and not an ounce of baby fat anywhere made her the epitome of desirability. Rationality finally dawned on me as I recognized her as Cathy Wilson, the girl who lived two doors down the street. I invited her in and dashed to the bedroom to grab a blanket for her to cover up with.

I hated to lose sight of that gorgeous body but I felt it was best to offer her some bit of modesty to help her to calm down. I had her sit on the couch with me and put my arm around her and stroked her hair trying to soothe her. She slid her arm out of the blanket and returned my embrace holding on for dear life. Her crying was starting to dwindle down to a mere torrent of tears. The longer I held her, the better she felt and the tears were replaced with a series of sobs. Her head was bowed down and when she looked up I could see a bright red handprint on her cheek. I was immediately worried about what had happened to this sweet innocent child.

Once she calmed down enough to speak she sobbed out "Greg. I-I-I n-need your helpppp." She called me Greg since I was a family friend. I had known their family for many years and watched this flower before me bloom. Her mother was kind of quiet and shy while her father was a complete type "A" personality. In his case A stood for asshole. Several times in the past I had heard the police called to their house to settle a domestic dispute. Even two doors away I had heard some of the yelling and name calling that went on over there. I was worried for the safety of the female members of that household to the point that it was me who called the cops on a couple of occasions.

I told Cathy that she was safe here and to tell me what happened. She said "Dad was arguing with mom and slapping her around and yelling like he usually does. I had just come out of the shower wrapped in a towel and saw that he was hitting her so hard that I got worried and tried to stop him. That's when he hit me knocking me to the floor. I jumped up and started to run away from him. He grabbed for me and ended up just getting my towel. I continued out the door and ran to the only true friend I had nearby."

I told her to sit there while I got her a soft drink from the 'fridge. I then went to my phone and called 9-1-1. I talked with the operator and explained the situation. She brought the address up on her screen and related that they had many violence calls at that address. After I hung up I told Cathy to stay put and that I would be back shortly. I went out the door and down to the Wilson's house. I rang the bell and was almost knocked over as mister Wilson came blasting out of the door hollering "Out of my way shithead." I saw that he had blood on his shirt as he jumped into his car and sped off.

I continued on into the house and found Cathy's mom on the living room floor bleeding from a gash in her chest. While I applied pressure to her wound to try to stem the flow I flipped open my cell phone and called 9-1-1 for an ambulance. I describe as best I could the injury to the operator. I was told an ambulance was just about a block away. Mrs. Wilson asked me "Where is Cathy?" I told her that Cathy was at my house, a little shaken up, but that she was safe and she would be fine. She thanked me and then passed out as the paramedics came in. I indicated the problem and turned her over to them. They did their best to stabilize her and transported her to the ER. I talked with the cops to tell them that it was another case of domestic violence and that mister Wilson had left headed north on our street. I described his car and the officer said that the car had been pulled over a couple of minutes ago and the assailant was in custody. I then had the officer follow me down to my house to take a statement from Cathy. It was a slow process but the officer got all the details from her. I told him that Cathy would be staying with me as long as she needs.