Beginnings • c.h

Chapter Thirty Two (part two)

I was at a real party. A real party, with real alcohol, real drugs, and real sex. Quite frankly, I thought that these kinds of parties only happened in the movies and in books. I guess I thought wrong then. The music was too loud, the room too crowded, and much too hot. The heat from the bodies of people crammed into a space much too small, the sweat that could be smelt. Honestly, the place smelled like shit, but the adrenaline pumping through my veins numbed my senses.

Or maybe that was the alcohol. Yeah, it was definitely the alcohol.

The only reason I was at this kind of party was because one of my friends in an older year was invited, and dragged me along. Not that I was complaining. I mean, who was I to turn down an invite to what was supposed to be the party of the year? Either way I was enjoying it, up until about two minutes ago when a drunk guy grabbed me and proceeded to try and drag me upstairs.

“Get your hands off me!” I yelled, attempting to break free from his particularly strong hold. I was quite surprised by that, I didn’t know someone was capable of that much strength whilst intoxicated.

“Shh,” he cooed, in an attempt to be sultry. I almost gagged at the tone of voice he was using. “I don’t want to hurt you; I just wanna have some fun.”

“Get away from me, you drunk freak!” I shout, shoving his chest with my finally free hands. He looked down at me, suddenly very angry. He shoved me back and I stumbled from the force.

“That’s it, you bitch!” he snarled. He raised his hand back, and I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the moment where he would hit me. I feel a single tear slip down my cheek, and I suddenly wish Luke was here to protect me. The drunk guy’s hand smacks across my face with tremendous force, and my head snaps to the side because of it.

Tears start streaming down my face, and I clutch at my already swelling cheek. I didn’t dare retaliate, afraid that I would only be beaten worse. I wait for the next strike to come, but it never does. I peek my eyes open slightly to find another person had already grabbed the drunk guy by his collar and pulled him away from me.

“How dare you hit a girl like that!” The person snarled. His fist curled up, and he smashed the intoxicated man so hard with his fist, that he was unconscious before he hit the ground. Turning to me, the guy that saved me quickly grabbed my arm and started dragging me away from the unconscious person, who was now surrounded by a crowd of people. I don’t think he noticed my protests, and my weak attempts to get away, he was too strong. Like the other guy.

“Holy shit, holy shit! Are you okay? Wait, you definitely are not okay you just got slapped by someone! Dumb question, Ashton, dumb question!” the guy said, the last part mainly to himself. Had the situation been different, I would have thought his quirkiness adorable. We finally reached the guys apparent destination. He turned to face me, and look closely at my face, inspecting the already forming bruise.

He lifts his hand to inspect my face, but I flinch away, reacting as though I had expected to be hit again. The guy pulled back his hand immediately, and looked at me with wide eyes.

“No, no! I wasn’t going to hit you or anything, I just wanted to see whether or not you’re going to need ice on your cheek.” He soothed, showing me his palms like I was a wild animal, expected to bolt any second. I slowly nod my head, still apprehensive towards the stranger. He smiled softly at me, and then slowly reached up to tilt my face towards the light.

“Yeah that is definitely going to need some ice.” He said, more to himself than to me. I pull away and nod my head, deciding it would be best to go find my friend, grab some ice and go home. Without a single word, I turn and head towards the kitchen.