Relationship Commencement

Right. There is a knock on my door. I don't want to answer it. I know who it is, but it's impossible that I am right. No one has the gall. I mute the television. I look over at her. She is twitching in her sleep again. There is another knock and laughter. There are two of them outside. I adjust her blanket to warm her neck: the heat in my apartment is on the blink again. I light my cigarette and there’s another knock.
I know what waits on the other side of that door. I know I have 1, maybe 2 seconds to make my move. I know that my chances of living are small. She brought them here. They came for her and she's been sleeping for the last 20 hours. This is the first time I have seen her in 3 weeks. There is a kick at the door.
Maybe it's my roommate. Maybe he forgot his key. He would have called. There isn't much time. I have no peephole because I live in a shitty apartment. Her cell phone rings. I walk to the door and take one last look at her. I start to open it.
I am greeted with a handgun in my face. "I just need to get my keys from her. You understand?" Yeah, I understand. I understand that the last time you showed up I put you in the hospital. I understand you aren't alone this time. I understand that this is the second time I have had a gun in my face.
Pull the fucking trigger. Be a fucking man. The door widens. An extremely wide man is holding the gun. The voice walks in uninvited. He kicks at the couch and loudly explains he is leaving and needs his car keys. She gives them to him and closes her eyes. "Business." The gun is withdrawn and the door closes. She hears her phone beep and reaches a sleepy hand into her purse.
She checks her text messages. She bolts from the couch and out the door. Nothing spoken, nothing thought. I hear a car backing up and I watch her enter the tricked out Lexus from my nicotine stained window. The import leaves, ignoring the stop signs along the way until it is out of sight.
I put on my jeans and a sweater. I smoke a cigarette and open a beer. This will not be the last time I see her. The next time will be, and the next time I will have a knife thrust at me. But that won't happen for another 3 weeks and this time it's her with the weapon.
He heard a knock on his door. He doesn't answer. I knock again. The wide man, sans gun, greets me. He is greeted with a cue ball in a sock across the face. She brought me here.