Playing The Player

:Chapter Twenty-Two:

The punch hurt mainly because I hadn't experienced it for a while. It was like that expression, absence makes the heart grow fonder, except I wasn't fonder of the hit, it just affected me more. But apart from that, it hurt because I knew I could've avoided it.

I saw Dylan's face, contorted in anger just before the blow hit, and in that split second, I wondered what went on in his head. What it was that made him so angry that he would actually resort to hitting girls. I was definitely not one of those people who believed that girls should just stand in the corner, letting guys walk all over them, but violence against women was just wrong.

My jaw went slack as his fist collided with it, and automatically, I blinked back the tears and grasped at my jaw, kneeling over in pain. Sure, it might've only been one hit, but let's not forget the fact that I did not approve of fighting, and let's not forget the fact that Dylan was actually crazy.

I touched my chin gingerly, wincing when it stung. Great, now it would leave a bruise. We'd go back to the old days, where I'd cover each mark with lots and lots of foundation, be called a cake face at school, and just get talked to behind my back constantly. It's funny how people think that girls who wear make up don't need to use the bathroom, well guess what? They do and they can hear every single word you're saying about them.

It was funny in a way as well, because you hear people saying all the time about how you shouldn't judge a person by their cover, but there they were, acting as though they knew me, and they were always either sucking up or just complaining about how much of a s-word I was.

"Ow," I whimpered softly, just as another blow landed on my right calf - I had no idea why he would kick there out of all places, but he did, and it hurt like there was no tomorrow. One hand clutching my jaw and the other clutching my leg, I tried to wriggle out of sight. I knew he would find me, he always did, especially since I couldn't get too far, but as President Snow said in THG movie, there was only one thing stronger than fear, and that was hope.

And if there was even the slightest chance that I could put this all in the past someway or another, then I was willing to let all this happen.

I braced myself for another hit that never came. I slowly opened my eyes, and gasped at the sight of Blake using Dylan as a punching bag. Knowing he had a bad reputation was one thing, but seeing it play out in action was another. He looked so brutal, so animalistic.

I ran my hand through my hair as I tried to control my breathing, standing up and wobbling slightly as I hobbled my way over. I didn't like Dylan at all, but seeing him getting beaten up wasn't something I was willing to experience.

"Stop - Blake, stop," I gasped out, holding out an arm to stop him. He didn't pay any attention to me, glaring at Dylan with murderous eyes as punch after punch made his nose bleed and his jaw slack. "Blake, please."

Blake stopped throwing punches for a second, holding Dylan out like a dirty sock. "Say sorry to her."

Dylan spat out a bit of blood before raising his eyes to me. "Sorry babe," He smirked.

Blake let go off Dylan's shirt and he stumbled back a few steps, his expression slightly bewildered. "If you ever fucking touch her again," Blake said quietly, venom in his voice, "Touch her, talk to her, even look at her, I will fucking make sure you regret it."

I couldn't deny the gushy feelings I felt when I saw Blake jumping to my defence, but honestly, it was so not necessary. I would've been able to handle it myself. In fact, I would've handled it perfectly, in a mature way.

Although if Blake hadn't handled it, Dylan wouldn't be hobbling away now with a bloody nose, swearing under his breath.

And as much as I hated violence, it made me smile.