Bad Blood (h.s.)

Part Sixty-Two

Part Sixty-Two

“Oh, Beth! How are you dear?” Ruth says, her little body wrapping around me in a hug.

“I’m good. Getting through stuff.”

She smiles and grabs my upper arms, her glasses on the bridge of her nose.

“I really hope you’re here to get your job back. I miss my adopted daughter,” she laughs, my lips curving into a smile.

“You know me too well, Ruth.”                  

We laugh and her little hands lead me to the back room, George, her husband, sitting in the back reading. He smiles and he stands, Ruth letting go of me.

“Hey Papi,” I say, giving him a hug. He insisted I call him Papi when we first met, always wanting to be Papi to someone. Ruth unfortunately couldn’t have children so I have been her ‘adopted child’ since I started working for her.

“How are you doing Bethy?” he asks, letting me go and Ruth handing me an apron.

“I’m good. How are you?”

“Ah, I’ve been better. The lady’s keeping me on a healthy diet.”

Ruth gives him a playful glare and we all laugh. I love these guys so much. They are always there for me and I have always been there for them, especially when George suffered his stroke.

“Alright, can you take this box and shelve them. I have to make some coffee,” Ruth says, my head nodding and grabbing the box from her. I walk out of the storage room and begin to stack some books, placing them in their proper sections. A familiar ding rings through my ears, signaling someone is at the door.

“Beth!” Ruth calls. “Got it!” I tell her, moving to the front of the store. I walk to the register and see a boy, blonde hair and skinny. My feet walk behind the counter and I gasp, moving back slightly.

“Hey Beth,” Greg says, his face smashed in. His nose is huge and his cheek is purple.

“Stop staring at me like that. You know damn well what happened,” he growls, tossing three books on the counter.

I hesitantly grab them, afraid he’ll do something to me. My suspicions were correct for he grabs my arm, his hand wrapping tightly around my wrist. Sheepishly turning my head up, he smirks down at me and I attempt to push him away from me.

“Why the hell would someone want you? You’re so pathetic,” he smiles, tightening his hold on my left wrist.

“Get off m-me,” I whisper, pulling my arm away.

He just turns my wrist and I yelp, pain surging through my wrist. The doors from the backroom open and my wrist is let go, Greg running out of the store. My legs collapse and I fall onto the ground, crying into my hands. A hand rubs my back and George and Ruth help me stand.

“What an asshole,” Ruth mumbles, holding my hand in hers.

“Ruth, you aren’t helping. He hurt her,” George sooths, kissing the top of my head.

They bicker back and forth and I dig in my pocket, grabbing my phone and handing it to Ruth.

“C-call Harry, p-please,” I ask, her head nodding and unlocking the phone, scrolling through the contacts to Harry’s number. She laughs at his contact picture and puts it to her ear, listening as it rings.

“I am not your babe Mr. Styles,” she huffs, rolling her eyes.

“Hey now. Beth was attacked at work and wants you to come here,” she tells him. She hangs up and they walk with me to the back room. I sit in the chair George was previously sitting in and Ruth rubs my back. A glass of water is placed in my hand and I sip it, choking on it due to my tears. That boy scares the crap out of me.