Her Abyss | Completed

Eight

At the next kickback, I stole glances at London while Owen and I discussed music. But damn did we have a lot in common.

Because when I wasn't too preoccupied examining the softness of her eyeshadow and the manner in which she winked at me, Owen was actually sort of interesting. He was less cheerful when he was sober and similarly to me, he was a pessimistic realist as well. His negativity was quite refreshing.

I sipped on my Smirnoff, growing quite fond of the taste, "And here I was thinking that all Americans were naturally easygoing and happy about everything."

He laughed at this and even that was something he did well, "Probably because I'm not fully American. Can you guess?"

His features remained neutral, careful not to give me a single clue as to what nationality he was. It wasn't Scottish because neither London or Lance would've been able to keep that from me for this long.

I nodded when I figured it out in my head, "You're Irish."

Owen nodded, his blonde locks reminded me of a young Leonardo DiCaprio. He'd been playing the cello a year longer than me and I wondered if his skills were comparable to my own. Owen preferred minor pieces, the same as me and felt that most Minuets were an endless mess of repeats. He was right, but I simply laughed at how many parallels we shared.

But that was before the music got cut off and a small outbreak of boys started near the fire where London was curled up with friends. Owen frowned, he excused himself from the conversation to head over there.

I did the same and instantly saw a group of guys, all shirtless and drunk, towering over a small American. He tried to walk around them but inevitably got shoved into the sand.

"You thought that you could just come in here and throw your drink at my girlfriend without consequences? Because that's not really how this works." Someone, a tall guy that had familiar features, grabbed the boy by his shirt.

He couldn't have been older than me because he was absolutely terrified and his features were that of a high schooler kid.

"To make sure this never happens again, let's give you a subtle warning." And with that his fist collided with the kid's face, instantly causing him to stumble back in pain.

Owen pushes through the crowd that was developing faster by the second. His broad shoulders were tensed and once he got to the front, the atmosphere changed.

"Look, unless you want some of this too, I suggest you stay out of it." The same voice sounded again and I realized how quickly this would escalate. Because Owen wasn't one for bullshit and he didn't seem to care that he was absolutely outnumbered.

And it bothered me how no one did anything as the poor kid received another punch. This one caused him to double over in pain and I was done waiting for this to get solved. While everyone was recording, I shoved through their sweaty bodies and got in front of the shirtless guy who appeared to be running things.

His eyes were much darker than anyone else's that I'd ever seen and he seemed even angrier when I sheltered the crippled boy's body whilst he groaned in pain. His features were contorted in pain and I helped him up rather slowly.

No one helped.

No one flinched at the blood gushing from his nose.

No one cared.

Because in America, they beat up the innocent in front of large crowds of people. My features burned with anger as we made our way towards my house. I told him that there, we would get him cleaned up and that he should call his parents. He declined my offer and insisted that his brother would pick him up soon enough, but it wasn't an offer.