Fight Club ©

C H A P T E R N I N E

"Come near me n I'll fucking kill you."

I raised my eyebrows prompting a reaction, nothing a few light chuckles but I surpassed the urge to get into another fight. I carried on walking tugging onto my gym bag strap that fell over my shoulder.

Walking in the opposite direction I took a deep breath calming the building adrenaline, looking down the worry left my face eagerly but feeling a little shaken. As the adrenaline wore off light shakes corrupted my fingers.

Finding the door as I trickily pushed the key in missing the first time, I shut the door instantly locking it before leaning against it. I heard the shower running. And the thought, the hope he was here eagerly et at me. But as she hollered from the top of the stairs the consuming feeling of reality. That he weren't coming. Coming back ever. And that hurt.

"Amy." I said stiffening.

"Any chance you can go out for an hour at nine, maybe be out longer... considering."

It was eight now and I violently shook, the thought. Another man being in our, no my house. I hated the fact my dad was never coming back and I was stuck with his slutty, gold digging girlfriend.

Taking advantage of my dad because of his grief for my mother. Playing into her hands. It hurt. Not because of the occasional slap, but the thief she was. I had to hide any money I win as I realise she starts taking some, some hundreds.

So I walk up the creaky steps realising how dull it looks since she was gone. I went into the shower and stood there as it trickled down my back soothingly. But the fact Amy had used all the hot water made my blood boil.

So as I went to thunder out the door, I was met faces with won of the earlier creeps, I steam past. Knowing if I don't leave now I won't control myself. Putting my ear phones in I start to run.

Every foot I place, step the pounding feeling as my feet hit the ground. My quickened heart beat. The steady breathing. I just forget everything and far into the frantic sequence of running. Like I had never stopped nor started.

But after so long you expect to be at your front door breathing heavily, but as I come to a slow, I walk. Looking at every lamp post. The yellow beaming lights, the gurgling of the drain.

Tranquillity in the thought process, the weird in the wonder.

9.48pm

And the eye roll was more dramatic then I ever could be. I should be heading home. But with my luck he'll still be there so another hour and I'll be good.

And then I walked straight into him. Wearing my dad's baggy jacket that came half way down my thigh, the white crop top and denim shorts.

I look into his eyes and for a moment my world stops. Luke. Carrying a case of beers looking down on me. And looking up I felt so small. And damaged. The way I stood wasn't the same. The way my face looked wasn't the same. The make up covering the purple to black bruises. Wasn't there. My eyes weak as if about to burst into tears. But that wasn't it. The way I gulped looking honestly into his eyes and the way I shifted weight because of the scarce feeling of yet another rejection. It was silent. But not long enough for me to be able to hold onto the moment like my night was the air.