Him and his brother were late; Turk and Virgil were supposed to be in room three twenty at the Glad Lad Hotel, about fifteen minutes ago. After arguing about directions, they were in the back alley of the hotel; they were interrupted in their conversation by a blood curdling scream.
Turk began to run, yet he wasn't sure what he was running into. A drunk man was kicking a girl in the ribs by a dumpster.
With all of his strength, Turk tackled the drunk, sending him flying. The drunk hit the ground with a grunt, and in his pain, never got up.
Virgil was with the girl, holding back her hair as she coughed up blood. Turk came over, holding her upright and rubbing her back. A protective nature came over him.
"He's gone now," Turk was saying to the girl. "He's not gonna hurt you anymore. I promise you. You're safe."
"Am I?" she said though her weakness. She met his eyes.
"You are with me." Turk looked to Virgil. "We got no choice, man; we bring her with us."
"I don't want to ruin your plans," the girl said then. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Turk told her. "Do not ever be sorry." Gently as he could, he slid his arms under her, holding her against his chest. "I promise you'll be safe from now on."
She leaned against his chest, closing her eyes to the sound of his heart. "Thank you."
YOU ARE READING
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Non-FictionI had this idea last night after a few drinks, a pounding headache, and an excessive amount of throat lozenges. In order to inspire me to write more often than I currently do, I am planning to write a new post every day and publish it, allowing me t...
