No Worries

Who I Might Be

His eyes. That's what caused me to stutter. Not the fact that I, Adam Dahlberg, am in fact under age. The man who had caught my eye was obviously drunk out of his mind, and anything he said probably didn't mean anything. But his eyes. They carried something I couldn't quite place my finger on. A certain approachable quality which made me want to spill my guts. Which of course I knew I shouldn't. His hair. It swept across his face with such a unkempt perfection it rendered me useless, like putty in his hands. But it was still his eyes that got me. I shouldn't have been quite so taken with this man I had just met, but I was. He slid out of the barstool and glanced at me. I was entranced by his gaze and followed him like a puppy. We both exited out the back door into an alleyway with brick building and iron stairways creeping up the sides of the building. Before I could even turn around to ask what was going on I was slammed into the grimy wall by the mans arm. He look at me with such hatred I almost whimpered.

"What do you want?" I mumbled. He tilted his head and squinted at me.

"Why aren't you fighting back?" he grumbled in my face, the alcoholic fumes hitting my face at gale wind force.

"How could I?" A full grown man against me? A scrawny teenager running from his problems? I don't have a chance. The man grumbled and said

"You're coming with me you little shit." Before I could protest I was over his shoulder helpless to what would happen next. He would probably drug me or something. I'd get raped. He'd find out who I actually am.