Chase

Chapter 1 - The First Fight

It all started only a few months ago... It was just a normal day, homework flooding my mind as I slowly - painfully slowly - walked home from school. I came from a stable family, my mother had a wealthy background and with that came a well-payed job. My father likewise but he died when I was young. I was fortunate to have a good education, just like my parents, once I go into a public school after my 11+. Unfortunately, not everyone in this world was fortunate enough to ease through their childhood like me and because of that, they are rather sour about it.

      As I turned the corner to head onto another street, I heard a shout. I ignored it, London often falls victim to a loud group of teenagers or young adults messing about when it's dark, so it wasn't anything out of the norm. Moments later, I heard the same shout but this wasn't a cry of banter, this was a cry of help. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and my heart thudded loudly in my chest. Maybe it was nothing, maybe I was just imagining it...although it had already happened twice. I carried on walking but to my dread, it happened again, this time followed by two words: "Get off!" I couldn't help myself. I ran to the source of the sound. An alleyway. How predictable. Two men stood over a boy, about my age, not much older if so. The boy had his back to the wall as he cowered from the muggers.

      "Hey," I said, trying to get the men's attention, they hadn't heard me and continued beating up the boy. "Hey!" I shouted, they stopped and turned around, their faces full of terror for a split second. I needed to say something else, something that would make me sound experienced in a fight maybe, to make me sound fierce. "L-leave him alo-" I gulped as the two men grinned. "Alone," I finished.

      One of the men snickered, "What you gonna do about it, huh?"

      "Uh," I hadn't thought this far.

      The same man smiled and turned to his friends, a load of scars and tattoos visible on his neck, "You see this guy? Look at him!" he turned back to me, "Did you chauffeur forget to pick you up from your posh school?"

      I wasn't sure what gave it away, was it my accent? Or my uniform? Maybe the thug recognised my school from my tie or logo on my black blazer. I looked back at where the boy once was, but he had gone. "Look, how about we just...uh...just talk this out?" I started to back away slowly.

      "You're not going anywhere," the other man grinned revealing yellow teeth as he whipped out a razor sharp knife.

      I span around and tried to run away, getting into a fight with someone with a knife is not a very good idea. Something held me back. The unarmed thug had grabbed onto my backpack and didn't show any signs of letting go. He dragged me back with strength from his arms and pushed me onto the wall. I wriggled in his grip, using all my strength to get out. The man didn't even flinch.  The thug with the knife came next to me and pressed the blade on my neck, "What's in the bag?"

      "None of your business," I replied, probably the wrong answer but I didn't want to show that I was scared.

      The man threw a punch at my face, it landed heavily. I bit my lip as my vision became starry. "What's in the bag?" he replied angrily.

      "J-just my sch-school stuff," I replied honestly.

      The man snatched my backpack and ripped it open, he tipped all the contents out and books, folders, pens, pencils and every other basic need for school crashed to the floor. He sneered disappointingly at the books and turned back to me. "What's in your pockets?" he didn't wait for an answer before he started emptying my pockets. He pulled out my Oyster card and some tissue and discarded it to the floor, them he pulled out a few ten pound notes and my mobile phone. He waved the money in my face before pocketing it along with the phone. "Now what are we going to do with you?" I panicked as he said this and pulled myself up and kicked him in the leg. It was brought up to be a powerful kick but as it hit the thug, the power had decreased yet he still felt something. A frown grew on the thug's face, "You shouldn't have done that," he recovered from the kick and pushed his blade back onto my neck, a sharp pain appeared where the cold blade rested and I felt some blood trickle down. "I guess you just confirmed your death penalty."

      My heart skipped a beat as the knife pressed down harder. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. I thrashed my legs about, trying to kick the other man holding me up against the wall. I struggleded from the grip, I used all my strength to free myself but I couldn't do anything.

      "Goodbye, you posh brat," the armed thug whispered in my ear.

      I closed my eyes, waiting for it all to end but it didn't. Instead I heard a deep voice, "Let him go."