Not Ashamed

'Chapter Twenty Four ×

I leave campus, which is something I don't do often unless I have something important to do. I've never left campus this late. I guess I didn't realize how late it was until I was off campus and onto the streets of New York City.

It's weird like this, like something in a horror game, or a scary movie. I have to stop myself from staring over my shoulder to be sure I'm not being followed.

However, I'm apparently not looking up enough, as I accidently bump shoulders with a tall man drinking a beer outside of a bar.

I try to keep walking, not really in the mood to deal with him, until I hear him shouting behind me.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going, big man?" He calls. I speed up a little, but I don't get far before he begins to shout at me again. "You heard me! Get back here!"

Against myself, I do stop and turn around, but I don't get any closer. I notice only now that the man isn't alone, and definitely isn't someone I want to mess with.

He's a tall man, that is still true, but there's far more about him that makes him scary than the fact that he's tall. He's wide, not super muscled, but absolutely huge. He has tattoos of skulls, and thorns on petalless roses on his bald head, and his face seems to have a permanent scowl.

"I'm sorry, man, I didn't see you there," I say. I'm so not in the mood for this thug to try me right now. I know perfectly well that I'm overreacting about what happened with Axel, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to freak out about it.

"Oh yeah, I bet you didn't." He takes a step toward me big enough to make me want to cower in on myself.

"I'm not looking for trouble, I didn't mean to bump into you."

"Can you not see four feet in front of you? Are you honestly that stupid? I mean, how smart do you have to be to look up from your four dollar sketchers so you don't smack into someone."

I take a deep breath. "Listen up, Meathead, if I were you, I'd leave me alone, because honestly, you're a loser. It's a Wednesday and you're standing outside of a bar drinking a beer that I bet cost you less than seventy five cents with a bunch of mini yous. You may be big, but you're also stupid, so turn around and go back to your friends who are obviously a fraction of a percent smarter than you because they left me alone."

He looks shocked for a second, before his shock turns into anger. He throws his beer bottle, smashing it right I'm front of my feet.

"Oh, you're in for it now!"

"Oh, am I?" I roll my eyes. At this point, I know full well that I'm asking for an ass kicking, but who knows, maybe it'll do my screwed up brain some good.

As expected, he lands a meaty fist to my jaw, landing me on my back. For a second, I think I can jump up just like when I fought Peter and come back with a punch, but he kicks me in the stomach and keeps me down.

"You made a big mistake today," he growls, flipping a pocket knife from his jacket and holding it up. My breath cuts off as I try to scoot away so I can get up.

I manage to get up, my side hurting from the kick. This dude must have some steeltoed boots on or something cause that hurt a lot. I'm about to run, but one of his friends, who is probably twice his size, stops me, holding my arms behind my back.

I don't think I've ever been more afraid in my life than seeing this giant man holding a knife to my face.

"Someone needs to teach you some manners," he spits.

Welp, I really should watch my mouth more, I guess. I'll remember that next time.

He drags the knife across my cheek, and I feel every inch of skin that splits. I wince, already feeling blood start to run down my cheek and onto my shirt.

Against myself, I speak up again. "Wow, either you're really drunk, or you're really insane." My voice sounds weak, and I wish the words wouldn't have come out at all.

"Just end this shit already, it isn't worth it," one of his friends says, who obviously isn't sticking up for me, he's just bored.

"No no, this boy needs to be taught about how you treat people around here."

"I understand now, when people are rude, we cut them up like children trying to make snowflakes out of loose leaf," I mutter. I even surprise myself sometimes. Somehow, the pain in my cheek, jaw and side isn't stopping me from being a smartass.

This tattooed barbarian seems unfazed. He moves the knife, dragging it from halfway down my neck, across my collarbone. I gasp in pain, and when I see a figure walking on the other side of the street, I call for help.

The men curse, and the one holding my arms throws me to the ground. They all scatter.

The figure makes it to me, and I recognize the voice with ease.

"Holy crap, Finn, what happened?"

Peter.

"I mouthed off to a guy with a knife," I reply, holding the cut on my neck. Surprisingly, the pain in my side is a lot worse than the cuts. Damned steel toed boots.

"Of course you did. Come on," He lifts me up, letting me put my arm around him for support. "Want me to take you to the hospital, or back to your room?"

"Neither."

"But, Finn--"

"Peter, I know we've never really gotten along, but I will literally never ask you for anything else. Axel can't find out."

"But, he's your boyfriend."

"You are in no place to talk to me about my relationship."

Peter sighs. "Fine. Come on, my car's over here."