Desolation (The Afterworld Chronicles #1)

Washed Up

~*~ For this chapter I have chosen Skinny Love by Birdy. I adore this song and feel so much emotion from her voice. The song inspired this chapter. ~*~

Chapter Two

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          "Come on love, just one dance?" The impeccably dressed stranger leers over the bar. His hands rest on the marble counter and his eyes turn darker as my rejection punches him straight in the gut, wounding his ego.

          "I don't dance." I remind him for the forth time. He really needs to get a clue. Not only will I not dance with him, but I will kick him out on his ass if he doesn't leave me alone.

          I ready myself for a fight. Clicking my neck to the side, I study him for a weak spot. His ego seems slightly bruised so I may start there. I'm about to say something when I'm interrupted.

          "Look mate, if she doesn't want to dance, leave her alone." Brett comes over and stands in front of me.

          Not that the guy would climb over the bar of course, his breath reeks of alcohol and he would probably fall over in the process. The stranger growls and storms off into the sea of dancing rich kids.

           It's nice of Brett to get protective but I can handle myself. I've been handling my own life for years.

          "Thanks."

          "That guy really needed to back off." Brett begins pulling a few pints for a group of men.

          "Did you smell his breath?" I pretend to choke at the revolting memory.

          "That's not the only thing I smelt wafting from him." Brett shakes his head and invades my personal space.

          I don't mind him getting close as I know that he would never hurt me. Although, when I feel the heat radiating from his body so close to mine, I can't help but feel a little heat flush to my cheeks. Brett lifts one of my arms and peels back my cardigan sleeve. As the material leaves my skin, it reveals the dark bruises layering over every inch of me. Every innocent patch is now either purple or black from the continuous beatings and abuse.

          "Why do you let him do that to you?" Brett's voice is calming as he softly runs a hand over my burning skin.

          "We need a place to live." I sigh and close my eyes, "I don't intentionally say 'come and get me Trent.',

          "Why him? You could do so much better." Brett picks up my chin with his free hand and turns my head to face him.

          His devilish sparkling eyes instantly make me want to look away, I can't think about his handsomeness right now. But as I look up, I catch him gazing at me, his expression a mixture of worry and concern.

          "Who is going to be interested in me, Brett? Look at me!" I exclaim and push his hand away.

          I shrug him off and exit the bar area, storming towards my locker. I slam my head against the metal, I slam it once, twice, as many times as it takes for me to cry. I feel dirty, washed up and broken. Everything I feel and any slight fragment of relief are just haunted by my agony. My bruises just remind me of the present. Torture is a mild word for what I feel inside. The unbearable world in which I live, strangles me with every fibre of energy I can muster.

          "Tori, I didn't mean to upset you." Brett's voice comes from the other side of the staff room. "Jesus, Tori-" I hear his footsteps run over to me and I feel a strong pair of arms wrapping around my shaking body.