Her Knight In Rusty Armor

Chapter XVIII

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Blurry Faces
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My olive green wonders fluttered open to a brightly lit room, the lights overhead almost blinding me fully. Squinting at particularly nothing, I peered around, trying to focus on where I was.

A tall man absent-mindedly curling his thin moustache with his fingers came into my line of sight, though I couldn't make his face out clearly.

"Jesus?" I whispered.

In a millisecond, his bald head swerved to look at me, and it was not Jesus at all.

It was Dave.

"M-Mr Dave!" I yelped as I tried to sit up in my spot, only to be pushed down by an old woman in a baby pink gown standing to my left.

And then I realised where I really was.

"Why am I in the hospital wing?"

"You were injured."

"No shit, Sherlock..."

Dave shot me daggers with his eyes, and I immediately fell silent, staring at the snowy white covers placed on top of me.

Abruptly, memories of what had happened at the party began spilling though the crevices of my mind.

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"What the hell are you doing to her, Zane?" I growled at him, as his bloodshot eyes grimly bore into mine.

He stood in the janitor's closet, motionless, his hair a mess and his skin glistening with sweat. The cleaning items scattered behind him were all out of place, suggesting signs of an upheaval. Kate was on the floor, trying to scoot away from Zane, her jacket stranded somewhere on the floor nearby. Her arms were exposed and her shirt had ridden up too, slightly exposing her toned stomach.

It seemed as if she was in some sort of a sudden shock, her hazel eyes boring into mine, speaking tales of horror with their pitiful irises. Silence really was louder than words.

I met Zane's gaze again, gaping at him from the threshold of the door.

It was only a moment's notice before I caught him launching himself onto me, and I immediately stepped out of his way, to which he stumbled out of the cramped closet.

I glanced at Kate, who was shivering slightly, her chestnut brown hair roughly jutting out of her ponytail. The sight of her being so afraid and vulnerable made me want to hug her with all my might, to tell her that I would beat Zane to a pulp for the greater good of the world.

"I'm here," I whispered to her. "I'm right here. Hang in there, my love."

She merely nodded back at me, digging her chin deeper into her knees.

I set my fiery eyes back on Zane, who glared back at me, his eyes seeming even darker and more sinister than usual. With his hair glued to the temples of his skin, it wasn't hard to notice that he was sweating way more than usual.

"What're you doin' 'ere?!" he growled at me, his brow tarnished with a reasonable amount of creases.

"Saving my love from a harasser, is all!"

He brought up a fist and dashed up to me, the punch almost about to land on my face, yet I ducked once again as my hair sloppily fell over my eyes.

"She's mine, and I c'n do whatev'r I want with her!"

At this statement, I roughly grasped his neck and slammed him onto the wall behind us, and he began gasping for air. That small action encouraged me to torture him further, to legitimately choke him to death.