The Lonely Hearts Club

Chapter 12: Stabbed (Hades)

***WARNING: there's a scene where a character gets injured and is stitched unprofessionally with a surgical needle and some fishing line.

DO NOT do this if you have a wound. Please go to the emergency room as quick as possible, this is a fictional story so DO NOT do this!

In real life, they'd probably die from infection.
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"Do you ever worry about your car being vandalized?" Bree asks me as we enter the dark parking garage.

I get what she's saying.

Driving flashy cars in shitty areas can be a stupid thing to do if you don't have the money to be careless.

Good thing I have the money.

"Nah."

I can buy a new car if it gets trashed, strip the parts down from it, and sell them off.

Now, If someone steals what's mine, I'll use my tracker, get the car back using whatever means necessary, and still strip and sell the parts.

Easy.

Her hand is still wrapped around my arm and it's intoxicating.

She smells like strawberries and every time she shifts her hand against my skin, I feel some weird spark thing.

"Has it happened before?"

"A few times." I shrug.

I can tell she thinks I'm a pretentious prick, and it rubs me the wrong way.

"I'm not a complete asshole," I say.

"I know," she says. "I saw what you did for the mom and the florist lady."

"They needed the money more than me."

When all the bags are safely in the car, and I open the passenger door for Bree, I finally notice them.

Two pricks who chose the wrong person to follow.

"Stay in the car Bree, I need to sort something."

"What-"

I lock her inside and make eye contact with Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dumb.

The two men in hoods who are starting to descend on us.

They're average height, a bit on the leaner side.

I almost feel bad for what I'm about to do.

"Everything alright?" I ask them in a hard voice.

One of them grunts and I roll my eyes.

Looks like we'll be sorting out this altercation physically.

There is an art to fighting, every punch counts.

The one day you miss a punch will be the one day you die.

Fighting against two people is easy.

They're knocked out in a few seconds.

I'm about to get back in my car when a few trucks blasting pounding music pull up with a shedload of people.

You've gotta be fucking kidding me.

I'd call Joey using that crappy little flip phone he bought me, but there's not enough time.

I can only pray that Bree stays in the fucking car.

I really hope she doesn't do something stupid like get out and try to help.

I couldn't live with myself if she got hurt.