I Care (Solangelo)

Chapter Twenty-one

Sure, it was nine o'clock at night. And yes, I did have homework to do. My room needed to be cleaned, I should probably do the dishes or entertain my sister who was complaining about being bored.

But nope! I decided to go on a walk. Nowhere was in mind, I just needed the fresh air. It was a beautiful night with a full moon and the sky clear of clouds. There was a certain spot I liked to be on nights like this.

Before I had left my house, I grabbed about a dozen sticky notes and a cheese and mayonnaise sandwich. Both were my life source these days.

Out of nowhere, I heard a loud slamming noise. I peered into the alleyway I was walking by.

Two dark figures, on tall, slim, and a brutal posture. The other person was looking fragile to comparison. They were saying something out of my line of hearing.

I silently crept closer to get a better look and for better hearing.

"Listen here, Stoll." The tall one spoke. Stoll... as in... Connor Stoll? There was a small whimper. "I'm sick of your-" I tried not to hear the next word to save the innocence of my ears.

"I'm sorry," Connor said, clearly scared of this person. "I- I'll make it happen. You can get your way."

"I better get my way." The taller male walked off, spitting at the other's feet. "I didn't loose an eye for nothing."

I noticed that Connor started staggering to stand up. Now was time to move, but for some reason my feet stayed still. The person neared, my legs started to quiver, and I was nervous about what might happen if he noticed me.

He walked right in front of me.

Next to me.

And finally, past me. He didn't noticed me against the wall, thanks to the dark of the night.

At least, I thought that.

There was a sharp pain in my side that felt like a hit with a metal slab. All I could eject from my mouth was a serious of gasp, leading to an anxiety attack. There was something loud, like the crack of a stick.

I rolled over, breathing heavily from the pain. A punch was thrown at my diaphragm. My eyes tried to focus on who my attacker was; most likely Connor, for all I know.

But why would he do this? Go this far to prove his "being mute is fake" theory.

"Stay away from him." Yup, it was Connor. "He saved you once. But you stay away from him or else next time - next time you won't be so lucky." He threw a few more punches to the stomach and side, places where the bruises and swollen spots wouldn't be noticeable.

Who was he talking about? I probably would be able to thing if not for the pain rocketing through me. Getting air was hard, my diaphragm felt crushed, and my side was going to be swollen in the morning.

There were a series of footsteps leading away from me. Connor had done his unnecessary work. And I was left in a dark alley to suffer silently.

I'm not exactly sure what happened next. I might have passed out, or it might have literally been five minutes. But underneath me, I didn't feel hard asphalt. I felt strong, muscular arms. Ones that I'd love to be wrapped in for an eternity.

My eyes opened. Yeah, I must have passed out.

"Nico." A gentle, familiar, amazing voice awoke me fully. "Nico, are you all right?"