Hold my Hand

Chapter 8

P.O.V

Seth

My graphite pencil felt light in my hand as I concentrated on bringing the image in my head to life. I seemed to have an overwhelming passion for pencil portrait drawing ever since I met Sam.

When I finished I examined my work. Sam was looking out at me with the playful gleam she sometimes got in her eyes. She was just as beautiful on paper as she was in real life.

Today was Friday. Finally. School dismissed at 2 today due to it being Homecoming.

I was getting impatient with time. Wishing it was 5 pm already so I could go pick up the girl that's been etched on my brain since day one. Damn.. I was beginning to sound like a chick.

Putting my pencil down I stood up to go get ready when my house phone rang. Figuring it was dad I didn't bother to look at the caller ID.

"Yep?" I answered in a lazy tone.

"Son? It's your Mom."

Hearing her voice always brought all the memories back. They would come at me like a flood, impossible to escape.

☆~~~~~~~~~~☆
(2 years ago)
Chicago, IL

My back was pressed up against the wall. The fucking brick wall. Yeah it hurt like a son of a bitch, and that made me even more pissed.

Wiping the blood off of my lip with the back of my fist I sent my opponent a toothy your about to get fucked up grin before resuming my battle stance.

Moving quickly I was in front of him before the bastard could blink. My fist connected with his nose in a sickening crunch filling me with a burst of adrenaline.

"Fuck you Thomas. Your ass is about to get owned and the money's about to be mine." I spat at Thomas who was holding his nose like a pussy boy.

Thomas lurched forward unexpectedly knocking me onto the pavement where I landed onto my back with a thud. I immediately made like I wanted to do a choke hold and then I resumed the guard position called the Gogoplata. I had one leg crossed over my body and hooked it under Thomas' s chin. I pulled his head down until his throat was against my shin. Then I continued to pull until I felt Thomas losing oxygen and heard his hand slap against the ground as he tapped out.

Letting him out of the hold and thanking god that I was a flexible fighter. I stood up and waited for my money.

I was in an alley not far from where the arena was that I actually trained and fought in. I was still in school but the trainers there knew I had talent when it came to fighting so they had started training me after school and on the weekends.

Lately I'd been picking up street fights to make some extra money for my little brother, Jax, I had at home. I had a part time gas station job but that wasn't bringing in money. We lived with our Mom, Kelly who was a bartender at a nightclub.

Kelly acted more like a friend than she did a mom. Don't get me wrong. I love my mom, but she acts more immature than Jax and I. Which was a major reason why I hadn't moved down to Iowa with my Dad yet. Another was that Jax wasn't dad's kid. Dad would take him in but Jax wouldn't leave Ma. He was only three and he had never met my Dad. My parents had split up shortly after I was born. They got along, it was just my dad was more stable. He was more of a homebody and liked small towns. Ma was wild and carefree, plus a huge city person.

Let's just say that I learned to grow up fast living with Ma. She was scattered brained and when she had Jax it was I who raised him. Was still raising him.