Fight Club ©

C H A P T E R T E N

The look on his face. Honestly, scared me. Not that he was mad at me. But who done it. He didn't speak. But his actions were enough.

Tightly wrapping an arm around my shoulder whilst he posed with the cans in his hands. He took a very deep breath, gruff and indecisive as if he was ready to make a bad decision.

And honestly so was I. But as my eyes started to stir, and a glacy tear rolled down my cheek, he pushed me tightly close to his chest. Tears teased through his shirt, I shook like a leaf and in that moment I wasn't sure what would happen.

"Why are you out." It was stiff in how he spoke. Frightening, making me look in his deep chestnut eyes.

"I'm not allowed to be at home, I don't want to be" I whispered barely audible.

"Why the fuck not?" His temper raising as he looked at me in a way like are you having a fucking laugh, I wish I was.

"Well my shitty dad's girlfriends got her new boy you round n I ain't allowed home till one." He looked at me face faltering.

"Wheres your dad?"

"My dad, fighting for our country somewhere."

"Your mum?"

"Dead." And I just stared at him the soul so desperately escaping me.

"Come with me."

I was so confused but instead I just followed him, in the pitch black night I followed him. I followed some one I finally felt as though I could trust and as we were walking back he said in a whisper, no anger no pain, no general physical look of losing his temper.

"Who, and what?"

"Well you know who I am. What I do. The games I play..." he nodded

"It weren't in there" he said catching me out.

"It's just what happens."

"Trust me it won't fucking happen again."

And with that no room to argue he wrapped his hands around my waist and in the darkness of night, and the icy breeze.

I felt safe.