His Colossal Mistake #justwriteit

Chapter 11 part 2 libraries

"Whatever you do, you should do it with feeling."-Yogi Berra

My lips part in shock. I scream, but help doesn't comes.

Sevastyan goes down.

"Stop this," I yell at the coffee shop manager, who appears to be the leader, "stop this now!"

He pushes me away without a glance, and I almost attack him myself; but that would not stop the men.

The worst part is the betrayal I feel at seeing a classmate—a friend—within the group.

I suck up my emotions and yank the boy to the side.

He tumbles back and glares at me. Then he does a double take. The rich child praises the ground my father walks on, and I hoped to use this to my advantage.

"Stop them," I demand, and he stares blankly up at me. "Stop them before the monster kills someone! You will never get away from that-from him!" I shout desperately.

"He deserves this," the boy pushes me away.

"You don't understand," I growl, "stop this, or you will never become an officer; and not even that guy," I nod towards the ugly coffee shop manager, "will allow you around his shop. I will destroy your life."

He stares shocked at me and I wince at hearing the thud of shoes against flesh.

He gives me a curt nod and returns to his people.

"Guys!" the boy feigns terror. "The police are coming! Let's go!" the boy ushers them away, and they all try to get in a few more hits to Sevastyan's body.

"He got enough anyways," the boy sneers before running off.

The attack happens so fast, and I felt.....guilty.

Before I could fall into shock I rush to Sevastyan's curled form.

He lay broken on the ground.

"Oh no. Sevastyan!" I drop to my knees. I grip his arm and roll him over to check his pulse. His eyes are closed. I had never seen anyone killed before. How could people I know kill someone?

No one will even remember Sevastyan or mourn. I bit my lip at the terrible thought.

Please don't be dead.

I could not handle a death on my hands, and under my watch.

To my surprise, his pulse is not slow or nonexistent, instead it moves at an unnatural pace.

I gasp and move my hand back, and as quick as lightening his hand grips mine and his eyes snap open.

I try to distinguish his emotions, but there is nothing there. He gracefully stands and stares absently into space.

"Are you okay?" I question and try to read his eyes. His hands engulf mine, and I realize I was cupping his face. Before I could be more shamed he releases me and steps back.

I then notice the blood. A scratch down his cheek, on his forehead, and other places.

"We must go," I say urgently and hook my arm with his.

He could probably stand on his own, but I grip him just in case, and he doesn't protest.

After being so easily separated from him, I was not willing to let him go.

I feel pathetic as I remind myself that this is my fault.

I am the one who asked for this, and who put him in this position.