Head 2 Head

Chapter 5

Chace P.O.V

Never hit a girl.

That was what mum said to me many years ago, after dad had beaten her to pulp, and left her on the kitchen flor crying.

Mum was a strong woman, always had been, but fate had not dealt with her kindly. She had come from a rough place, dealing with an abusive father, only to marry my father, in hopes of love and escape, and deal with the same thing. Yet, she had always been very strong willed. The males in her life had never offered her any place of comfort. She always told me to treat females nicely.

That was what I remebered after my head cleared out and the blackness faded from my eyes. But the very action of being hit brought back the memories that made me hate the man responsible for half my  genes. The fu**er that had ruined my childhood.

He'd hit me often, beat me so bad that I ended up in hospital more times then I could count at such a tender age. But the doctors never suspected shit. Didn't inquire for more information. I cried a lot back then, brought my mother more trouble for not having any power to control a kid. He'd beat her then too...because of me. I was always too afraid to stick up for her. 

The man that was responsible for my birth was one intimidating figure. He came from a long line of wrestlers and had, evidently, inherited his forefathers gift of swinging punches, senselessly, and breaking bones. Instead of putting his immense strength to good cause, he had always taken his constant anger out on me. Physically. I never cared about him to be affected emotionally. My mother was my world.

We escaped, finally, when  was eleven. But the scars that man inflicted on us were still preasent. Mum was currently batteling depression.She could not sleep without suffering nightmares, or walk down the street without suspecting that she was being followed, or even eat without fearing that her food was poisoned. He had really destroyed her.

That was why I was so shocked. Sure I had messed up my own childhood by running with gangs, and shitting up my fair share of opponents, but I could always hit ack. With Rita, I was too stunned to even comprehend what she had done. No female had ever touched me except my mum. And she had never raised her hand on me.  I just had to get out of there. So I did.

That's the reason I was here, in this quite bar, drowning out my self with more alcohol.

"So, you just going to stare in to space?" the female's voice startled me slightly.

I looked up to find a young woman staring at me. She was dressed in a wear best suited to the kind of parties the mixed breed would attend. The dress she was clad in was pure white, simple, with off shoulders, a ruffled slit of chiffon layers, sewn neatly into silk, and pressed by a delicate made rose pinned at the waist. She was quite a beauty, with her wide blue eyes and wavy brown hair, pulled into a messy chignon, but everythng about her - from her posture, to the way she held the wine flute - screamed RICH.

I wasn't in the mood for a chat, so I just 'humphed' and returned to drinking. I think the lady was in need of a talking friend and I just happened to be the unlucky guy around.

"I'm Lydia Greyson, you are?"

I ignored her outsreatched hand and just gave a nod of acknowledgment.

"Chace."

She seemed pleased to get a response from me and unfortunately, took that as an invitation to start a conversation.

"So what are you doing here moping? Did your girlfriend break up with you?"

That would be possible if I had a girlfriend. And I don't think any girl would willingly break up with me...not as far as I knew anyway. My escorts usually begged to stay.

"Your boyfriend break up with you?" I demanded, annoyed at her curiosity.

Instead of backing off, like most girls I knew would do, she smiled and swirled the colourless liquid around the flute, looking thoughtful.

"I guess you haven't broken up then. So what else could make you want to commit suicide?" she looked at me with more awareness in her eyes than I would like from a  stranger.

"What's your problem?" I wanted to know.

She smiled, taking a delicate sip and looking at me at the same times.

"You're intresting, you know that?" she muttered, setting her glass down, still half filled.

Intresting? What a joke? I snorted, gulping down the contents of my class, before sliding it away from me. I was feeling whoozy. If I susupected that my hangover was going to be bad before, now I was sure I would suffer excruciating pain. I wasn't very sure I'd make it back.

"The more you ignore me, the more the temptation to figure you out will grow," she told me, her eyes raking my body in a very studious manner, "I'm a very stubborn person."

Could have fooled me. She needed to back off. I was aching to put my head down and rest. F**k my head was bursting.

"Hey, you don't look too good." Glad she was catching on that I was not in any mood to converse.

I placed a hand on my throbbing temple to ease the pain that was beating away furiously, tugging at my, seemingly sore, scalp.

"Chace! Hey Chace!"

My throat was burning. It was like someone had stuck a burning match in there. The bartender, standing a few meters away from me, was dancing in front of my eyes, his figure swimming. 

"Chace!" Lydia's frantic shout was the last thing I heard before I slippedd into unconciousness.