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He sits in the room, the curtain closed, not letting any sun touch the living space. He shoots at another person in his video game his father insists he plays when a knock came at the door. He ignores it and stays focused on his game. When the knock came ag ain, he yells for the other person in the house. “Mom! Door!”
With her hands still wet from the dish water, she rushes to the door to answer it. She’s quiet, not expecting the person at the other side of the door.
“Ziva.” The man on the other side says. “ You weren’t at work today.”
She sighs. “Tony, you should not have come.” Shifting on her feet, she avoids his gaze. “Please, you cannot be here.”
He raises his hand to her to brush her hair behind her ear, when she flinches, he lowers it, eyeing her. Inste ad he points to her hand. “What happened?” He asks softly, making sure no one else can hear him.
She doesn’t answer, looking over at the clock on the wall. “Tony, you have to go.” He tries to argue, but she steps back. “Please Tony, before he gets home.” She nearly begs, but she wouldn’t let her voice go that weak.
He looks over his shoulder, then meets her eyes. “Ziva…?”
“I can look after myself, Tony.” She steps back, and closes the door on his face. Shutting him out. She stands in front of the door, tak ing deep breaths, trying to calm her heart.
She finally hears Tony leave her front door. She glances up at the clock and her breath hitches. Her husband is going to be home soon.
She runs her hand through her hair and heads towards the kitchen to finish making dinner for her family.
Five minutes pass before Ziva hears the door open, and she prays that it’s not Tony breaking into her apartment. She stays in the kitchen, preparing the salad. She faintly hears her husband talking to Diago , his voice gettin g louder. She doesn’t look back as he places his briefcase on the table, but the smell of his cologne makes her body involuntarily freeze.
His hands rest on her arms, her hands start to shake. “Not going to greet your husband, dear Ziva?” He whispers into her ear.
“Hello, Ray.” She breathes. “How was work?” His grip tightens, she doesn’t dare to move, breathe, she wishes her heart would stop pounding inside her chest.
“When is dinner ready?” He asks, stepping away from his wife, standing over her.
“After I finish making this salad. The rest is ready.”
When he doesn’t say anything, she gulps. “Why wasn’t dinner ready when I got home?” She doesn’t take her eyes off the knife in her hand. How she wants to use it, but she knew better. He has a gun on him, keeps it with him all the time. She can’t do it, not with her son in the next room. “Do I need to repeat myself?” His voice is stern. “He was here, wasn’t here? Thought you could sneak in a romp before dinner? With the one man I’ve forbidden you to see? With our son home?”
“No.” She whispers.
“I can’t hear you.”
She places the knife down and turns around to face him. “No, it was not like that. He-he just came over when I did not show up. I did not let him in. Diago was in the room the entire time.
“He listened t o your whore mouth. He probably just visited to get in your pants.” He sneers, advancing on her, his hands clenched. She stares, frightened into his eyes. Surely he wouldn’t do it with their son awake? “Finish dinner, I’m going to wash up.” On his way out, he takes a bottle of whiskey with him.
***
Ziva tries to keep her screams contained, but one lets free as his fist meets her face. He pushes her against the wall, holding her steady by her throat, then drives his fist into her ribs. He whispers a drunken slur into her face, and she wants to gag on his breath.
Behind him, she sees her son cowering behind the door frame of the room. Ray turns his head to look at him, his hand never leaving her throat. “Go back to bed.” She struggles to tell Diago . He gives her a pained look, waiting seconds before he sullenly walks back to his bedroom.
“Now,” Her husband says, running a hand down her face. “Where were we?” His hand squeezes her throat. “Oh that’s right, you sleeping with your coworker.” She tries to say som ething, but she can’t. She can’t breathe. His hand leaves her face, rising high into the air, and lands in her eye.
And suddenly, the world goes dark.
***
When she wakes up, Diago is holding her hand, and she’s surrounded by white.
Is she dead?
Oh how she wish she was.
“Good morning, Mrs. Cruz.” The nurse greets, closing the door and curtain behind her. Ziva watches the woman with her one good eye. “We were worried about you, your husband says you slipped and fell down a flight of stairs at your apartment.” She squeezes her son’s hand, not saying a thing. But the nurse gives her a look, something familiar, like all the other nurses had given her in the past when she showed up in the emergency room of having another fall. “I’ve never seen a fall c ause so many injuries.”
“It was a long flight of stairs.” She struggles to mumble, looking through the window in the door, just knowing her husband was out there.
“Hm.” The nurse says, marking a note on her folder. “I’ll get your doctor in here to write yo u a prescription, then you can be on your way home.” She says sincerely, taking her hand and resting it on her bruised knuckles. “Take care dear.”
Ziva gulps, wishing the tears will go away.
An hour later, Ray and Diago were helping her into the car. She k eeps her groans to herself as the drugs start to wear off, and the stinging from her eye socket intensifies.
***
She calls in sick to work early that morning, explaining to her boss the same thing the doctors were told. But he wouldn’t buy her tale. He giv es her the day off anyways.
With her husband and son gone for the day, she lays in bed wishing she could just die, that her husband would just finish her off. But she couldn’t leave her son in the hands of that bastard. She’d fight for her son, protect him with tooth and nail.
She’s not surprised when the nurse tried to get her to open up every time she was admitted, each a different nurse than the one before. But someone will find out.
There’s a knock at her door, and she doesn’t answer it.
However, he walk s into her room. “Oh, Ziva.” Tony whispers, coming over to crouch beside her. “What did he do to you?” She doesn’t say anything, but the moment her tears touch her cuts, they burn. “Please Ziva, let me help you.” She reaches a hand out to grip his forearm, not sure if she wants to pull him close or push him away. “I will stop him, I promise I won’t let him hurt you again.”
“No.” She rasps. He’d kill him!
He places his hand over hers. “Please, CI-Rat is going to pay for what he did to you.”
Her eyes burn wi th her tears. “You cannot prove anything.” He smirks and she shrinks away.
“Try me.” He wipes away a tear and places a kiss on her forehead. “For you, for your son, I’ll do whatever it takes to put this bastard away.” Fresh tears well up in her eyes. Put h im away yes, but he’ll get out, and he’ll come after her.
***
Dinner had been tense the entire evening. Ray never knew that her coworker had visited her the day before, and she’s going to keep it that way. But the man was still angry that Tony had visited their home.
But now it was time for Diago to go to bed, and with all the pain in the world, she would still read him a bedtime story. However, the moment she enters the living room, he was on her.
He throws her to the ground, whiskey strong on his breath as he gets into her face. She can barely see through her one eye, her ribs still sore from the same thing happening a few nights before.
From the hallway, she gets a glance of her young son hiding b ehind the wall. Ray wraps his hand around her throat, and with one hand, she digs into his face, and the other hand, she reaches for the gun he keeps on his hip.
The unlocked gun.
“I’m going to make sure all your little friends find out at how much of a wh ore you really are. No one’s going to trust you again.” He spits into her face.
She had enough.
Finally, with her hand on the gun, and with her son watching, she aims it at his chest. Ray’s eyes widen, and in a heartbeat, she pulls the trigger as fast as s he can. His body goes shockingly still above her, and the warm blood starts to drip on her from the entry wound.
“Mom!” Diago cries, running to his mother’s side, helping her push the body of his barely breathing father off of her.
Ziva gasps for air, fina lly able to breathe again. “ Diago !” She pulls her son into her arms. “Oh my baby.” She sobs into his dark hair.
Her son stares at the body slowly losing life on the floor beside them. “Is he dead?”
Oh god she hoped so.
***
The sirens wail into the night as more police cars show up in front of the apartment building, disturbing the residents. Ziva and Diago sit in the back of an ambulance as they are being looked over by the paramedics. Besides the increased bruising around h er neck, they were both relatively fine from tonight’s events, in comparison to a few nights before.
Ziva looks up when she notices a figure walking towards her. Her heart skips a beat and shame over washes her at the same time.
It is Tony.
He awkwardly st ands in front of her as the paramedic hands her an ice pac k . She can’t help but keep her eyes on him, watching him. Would he judge her for what she did? Would he accept her now that she’s a spouse killer? Then the medic moves.
Tony walks up to her, crouching down so he wasn’t standing over her. “I talked to the police.” She gulps. “I told them what I knew, but you’d still have to be questioned.” He says softly, taking her hands into his. “You will get out of this, Ziva. Both of you got out alive. He will neve r hurt you again.”
She stares into his eyes, her vision became blurry as tears form. She glances over at her son, her baby boy, and smiles. Never will her husband lay a hand on her baby. Nev er will he teach him how to harm anyone. Never will she let him pl ay those awful video games at such a young age.
Never again.
He places a hand on her cheek that wasn’t swollen and bruised, pulling himself close to plant a kiss on her lips.
“Never again, I will protect you. Both of you.”