Rose and the Thorn (Fallen Tales series)

Chapter 15

Chapter 15
Rose
It was loud and crowded. Patrick and I had to push our way through to the booths on the other side of the tavern. I looked around and I could see no sign of another woman. Great.
Yells echoed as everyone crowded around the large bar. I realized that they were yelling at the TV.
"I can't believe you do this for fun!" Patrick yelled across from me.
"I can't believe you don't!" I yelled back, "What do you drink?"
He looked at me as if I was stupid, "Okay, fair enough! I'll get you a coke."
He smiled as I tried to make my way to the bar. Tall bodies raved against me as I pushed my way through.
"Two cokes!" I yelled at the bar tender. He smiled as he started to get the drinks.
"Hey beautiful!" I turned at the sound of a guy's voice. He leaned on the bar, closer to me than I had hoped. My eyes search for something that I liked. Brown hair, brown eyes, red shirt that said, play boy. Hot yes. Into him, no.
"I haven't seen you around here before!"
"That's because I'm not!" I smiled politely hoping my drinks would come soon. I don't know why I did this for fun?
"Right the accent! American?" he asked.
"You guessed it," I said as the bartender placed two cokes in front of me. I took out my wallet.
"Here let me get it," he offered. I quickly shook him away.
"No I'm fine, thanks."
He looked cut, "I thought we were friends."
"We are, it's just," I pointed to Patrick. His hand covered the side of his face where his scars were, "but so is he."
He nodded. I smiled and tried to get back to our seat before spilling the cokes all over me. I placed one in front of him.
"What a crowd?" I pretended like I was having a great time. But the truth was that, that person wasn't a part of me anymore. It never really was.
"Yeah, I forgot about this. They do it every Sunday. It's the Sunday game."
"Cricket, right?"
He nodded taking a sip of his glass. I chose this time to make fun of him.
"Wow the great Lord, drinks from a glass."
"How else do you expect me to drink it?" he asked.
I shrugged, "I don't know, with a straw."
He smiled at me. I realised he was still hiding his scars.
"Can you not, nobody's going to take any notice of you," I said trying to resource him. 
"Your right, they're all looking at you," two guys walked passed us, looking me up and down. Wow, English guys were so not subtle.
"So"
"That doesn't bother you. The fact that their basically undressing you with their eyes."
Yes, "No, it's nice to be wanted."
He sat back folding his arms, "you know I can tell when you're lying."
"No you can't."
"Yeah. I'm the master of lying."
"What would you lie about?" I asked suddenly interested.
"I don't know, I'm fine, I'm hungry, yes I want to run the estate."
I nodded. I guess they were reasonable.
"What do you lie about?"
I thought for a while, "I'm fine, yes I think you're hot and yes I'm a virgin."
His eyes widened, "You lie about that stuff?"
"Yeah, when a guy asks 'do you think I'm hot'? I'm not going to say no."
"No I meant –."
"I know what you meant."
I tried to hide my sneeky smile by sipping my coke but it didn't happened. The worst part was when Patrick didn't hide his. Oh God, why did I want to kiss him so much?
Before I had time to react, the guy from before slid down next to me. I almost jumped out of my skin when I felt his hand touch my shoulder. I tried not to focus on Patrick's wide eyes as he tried to hide his face.
"You are beautiful," he mumbled, as his face crept closer to mine.
"And you're drunk."
"But you gorgeous, like dam girl," my eyes widen. I couldn't help but see it as an insult.
"Come on mate," I looked up to see Patrick's body leaning down over us. The guy made no effort to move.
"Who are you to tell me what to do?" the guy stood as if challenging Patrick. I've seen this part a thousand times. Guy hits on girl, other guy tries to get guy to leave, guy punches other guy and girl stuck in the middle of it.
"Oh my God, your, your." And he had been recognized. Everyone stopped what they were doing to watch the fight unfold. Or was it to see Patrick.
"Come on man, just take it easy."
"So you came down from your lonely mansion to party with the low people. How did they do it again, axes?" my eyes widened as I watched Patrick carefully.
"Come on Rose, we're going."
I went to stand up but I was pushed down again.
"She's not going anywhere."
"Don't you dare touch her?"
I heard the impact of Patrick's fist connecting with the guy's face before I saw it. Was Patrick defending me? After all what he had said about his family, it was when he touched me that Patrick reacted.
When it was clear that Patrick was going to win, I stood to break it up.
"Okay come on, Patrick. Break it up." I pulled on Patrick's arm and slipped. I felt the shot of pain and the ringing as I hit my head on the corner of a bench. Everything started to go black.
"Rose! Oh God Rose!"



Patrick
"You didn't have to hit the guy," Rose frowned as she leaned on me as we walked up the dirt road. The harsh wind cut through every gap in my clothing making goose bumps raise on my neck.
"What did you want me to do?"
"I wanted you to let me handle it."
She pressed a cold pack to the side of her head and still ignored my offer to carry her.
"How? He had you trapped in the booth."
"Are you underestimating my skills?"
"Yes."
"Patrick, just because you have scars doesn't mean I don't have bruises."
I frowned, "what does that mean?"
"It means I know what it's like to feel small and helpless."
I stopped to stare at her. Was she saying what I think she was saying? She'd been bashed, hurt.
"Who was he?" I asked.
"A boyfriend. We broke up not long before I left for England."
"Is he the reason you left?"
"Yes and no."
"What does that mean?"
"Look Patrick, you have your secrets I have mine!"
"You know mine!" Remembering what Tommy had said in the pub.
"No I don't! I know that they were killed. But I want you to tell me."
I sighed and shook my head.
Just tell her. She will never forgive you if you don't. You'll never forgive yourself if you don't.
"Five years ago, my family and I sat in the dining room having Sunday dinner. My father had just made his toast when we heard a scream. He got up and opened the door. Someone stabbed him while another four came for us. I tried so hard to protect them but there was so many of them. One took me gave me these scars," I pointed to my forehead to where they started, "then left me. I had begged for them to take my life but they wouldn't."
I could see her trying to work the information into her brain. Trying to imagine what had happened that night.
"Now it's your turn," I said stopping her thoughts.
She swallow, "My mother died when I was born and my father never really got over it. A couple of years ago he was diagnose with dementia. He would go on about things like he had been abducted by aliens and he soon became the towns crazy person. Oh, and he also couldn't remember who I was. It got to a point where I couldn't look after him. I had to put him in a home."
When I thought she would leave it at that, I asked, "and the guy?"
"Kobey. He was everything I had after Dad got sick. He took me places I had never been and life was great. Till he drank. And he would bash me. Every time I went to leave him, he would drag me back in. Till he bashed me up so bad that I had to go to hospital. I had cracked ribs, bruises. A month later I was on a plane for England."
I felt an overwhelming feel of anger. How could anyone hurt her? How could anyone touch her?
"So what do we do now? Forget any of this ever happened," she asked as we moved up the hill.
"I don't want to," I admitted.
"Neither do I."
We walked in silence up the dirt road. Fog tangled at our ankles making it hard to breathe with the moister in the air.
"You would think that a rich guy has a car," she stated.
"We do, I just don't know where it is."
"Of course you don't."