𝙸𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙴𝙽𝙳 || Original Story

twenty-three | bully

I spent the morning with my parents, sat in their garden drinking coffee and eating Mum's homemade chocolate cupcakes. She had apparently done them first thing this morning and got up especially early to do so.

"What do you think, Katelyn?" She asked me before I'd even had chance to pick one off the plate. "What do you think? Is it too sweet?"

"Mum, relax!" I exclaimed with a laugh, and after swallowing the first bite, I added, "it's lovely, as always."

She then relaxed and looked relieved, saying how Dad screwed his face up because he thought they were too sugary.

"Dad thinks everything is too sugary," I mused. "He thinks sugar is too sugary."

Mum found that funny and agreed wholeheartedly. She had laughed loudly, so much so that Dad had entered the garden after unsuccessfully trying to find the latest newspaper in the living room.

"What's so funny, Marina?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, nothing," she replied innocently whilst waving her hand. "Nothing."

On my way back home, I walked over the little bridge, stopping to admire the sparkling water and the ducks that were swimming and splashing about. I was tempted to sit down for a while and bask in the sunshine, but something else caught my eye.

There were a small group of people a little further up the road, just where the row of shops began, crowded around two tall men- one who was notorious for being the worst man you could ever meet and one who had a familiar mop of auburn hair. And, at a glance, I knew that whatever was going on was bad. Especially since it had brought in a congregation of onlookers.

I set off towards the group, giving those who noticed me a wary glare as I approached. I heard a great guffaw that sent a shiver down my spine. The worst man you could ever have the displeasure of meeting had a name: Patrick Collins. He was an incredibly tall man with a burly stature, a square jaw, slick dirty-blonde hair, and a piercing gaze that was uncomfortable to stare into. He seemed to be coaxing Edgar by pushing him like little children would do in the playground. Like a bully would do to their victim.

Edgar didn't look at all impressed. He stood still, frozen, his gaze averted to anywhere but Patrick's eye-line. He fists were clenched, hanging by his side, and he was anxiously biting his lip, chewing down on it as if the pain would be some sort of distraction.

"Patrick, stop it!" I scolded, marching towards him. "Leave him alone."

"Katelyn dearest," Patrick said with a grin, turning to me and diverting his attention away from Edgar. "Lovely of you to show up. How about I buy some farewell flowers from you, so that when I kick Bailey here back to London, he won't miss Maplebrook too much."

"Don't you 'Katelyn dearest' me," I snapped. "And don't be such an arse. You can push him around as much as you want, but it's not going to change the fact that Edgar is here to stay. This isn't your village; you don't own it. And I'm certainly not selling you any flowers unless they're to be used for a good purpose."