Broken Cravings (REVISING AND REWRITING)

Broken Cravings; Two

I used to dismiss my mother's warnings about the treacherous trek home, even though I lived in a struggling neighborhood haunted by a dark criminal past. But despite the lurking dangers, I cherished the place; it embodied a tight-knit community that felt like family.

One afternoon, as I navigated the cracked pavement leading home, a man in his 30s called out sharply, waving his hand in a clear command for me to halt. Heart racing, I chose to ignore him, hastening my steps to feign indifference, yet the thudding of his heavy footsteps grew louder behind me, relentless.

"Stop!" he bellowed, a commanding authority in his voice that sent adrenaline surging through my veins. It was enough to send me flying into a desperate sprint.

The echoes of water splashing from the earlier downpour seemed to taunt my growing panic, creating a soundtrack to my fear. Just as I turned to glance behind me, I misstepped and twisted my ankle against the unforgiving curb, pain shooting through me like lightning.

"What the hell are you running in heels for, sweetheart?" he asked, peering down at me with an expression that was difficult to read. His long eyelashes fluttered in the dim light, and despite the tears welling in my eyes, I caught a glimpse of a glinting black object hidden beneath his hoodie.

He extended his hand to help me up, and instinctively, I took it, my heart pounding. "I'm sorry, I thought you were going to hurt me," I managed, forcing a smile through my fear.

"I understand, it's wild around here. I'd never hurt you, though," he assured me, his tone softening as he retrieved my baby pink folder, embellished with youthful doodles of bows, hearts, and half-torn stickers scattered like memories. "You dropped this."

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," I exclaimed, snatching the folder from his hand. A rush of panic washed over me at the thought of what my teacher, Mr. Styles, would say. "He's going to be so angry. This is like the third one he's given me already!"

The man offered me a sympathetic smile, his warm demeanor easing my anxiety. "I get it. Can I buy you another one?" he suggested, pulling back his hoodie to reveal muddy brown eyes that reflected a kindness I hadn't expected. His neatly groomed beard and bun held an air of casual elegance, a streak of hair escaping and brushing against his forehead.

"It's fine... I'm sure he'll understand," I replied, nodding as I tucked the folder safely into my bag.

He shrugged lightly, extending his hand once more. "Zayn," he introduced himself.

"Beth... Bethlyn," I smiled back, feeling the tension begin to unravel.

"Beautiful name. Well, I best be going, yeah?" he said, taking a step back, pointing at me with a playful grin. I nodded, promising myself to keep a firm grip on that precious folder.

"Keep up with that thing, okay?" he called as he walked away, a flicker of warmth in the air lingering long after he vanished from sight. I nodded dutifully, determined to heed his advice.