I hesitate, looking up and down the street to see if I can run away and not be caught by Callum before I get home. Even if I do get away, if I don’t follow him I have no doubt that tomorrow at school won’t be as pleasant as it was today, so I inhale and press my cold lips together, forcing my feet forward by sheer will.
The sound of footsteps approaching from a nearby corner jolts my already pounding heart and I leap headfirst through the gap in the fence without thinking.
“Bloody hell!” I drop my bag on the ground and clamp my gloved hands around my calf. There’s a two-inch gash in my flesh where I caught my trousers on the edge of the metal fencing. I’m so busy cursing my wound and my stupidity that I don’t realize how close Callum is until his feet are less than a meter from mine.
I flinch back, my heart racing. “Callum! You frightened me!” For a moment, I forget about my injury and take a step back to put a little more distance between us.
The fence behind me creaks and I pivot my head just in time to see another boy from school entering the desolate courtyard.
Oh shit.
“Caaaalllll, why didn’t you tell me you were going this waaaaay?” he says in a singsong voice that lets me know his presence here is anything but a coincidence.
“I t-t-think I’ll just walk home the usual w-way.” I try to speak in as bright a manner as possible when I’m about to collapse from fear.
“What? Why would you do that?” Callum says, his dark, lifeless eyes studying my expression carefully as he cocks his head, a delighted spark forming behind his cold stare.
He wants me to be afraid. He likes it.
“Cal, I thought you said this one would be fun,” the friend whines in a mocking manner.
“Ryan, she is fun.” Callum swings his black gaze back to me and steps forward. “Right Ellie? You’re a fun girl, aren’t you?”
Swallowing loudly, I take another step back, my heart pounding so fast that I think it may explode in my chest. The fight or flight response we learned in science class last year is not something I ever wanted to experience firsthand, but here I am, trying to decide if I should claw and kick and scream or turn and run as fast as I can.
I’m not stupid though. I know I have zero chance at either overpowering Callum and Ryan or outrunning them. I am thoroughly and properly fucked. The only way I’m getting out of this yard in one piece is to talk my way out.
“Of course, Callum, I’m loads of fun.” I know I sound completely unconvincing. Damn my nerves! I take off my gloves and clench my hands into fists, digging my nails into my frozen palms in an attempt to use the pain to focus on staying calm.
“See, Ryan,” Callum steps even closer to me. “I told you.”
I resist the overwhelming urge to throw up as he lifts his hand and drags a frigid finger down my cheek and trails it between my breasts, tugging the zipper on my coat down as a grotesque grin spreads across his face.
I can’t let him see fear, so I meet his cold eyes and smirk.
Big mistake.
The smile drops from Callum’s face and turns into a truly frightening scowl. Before I see it coming, his arm swings up and backhands me across the cheek, the explosion of white-hot pain causing me to stagger sideways from the blow.
“I think I liked you better when I thought you were an innocent little girl,” he snarls, his body so close that I can feel his hot, angry breaths on my skin.
I put my hand to my face and drag it over my mouth, wiping a smear of blood from a split on my lip. “Bastard,” I hiss before I can stop myself.
Callum’s dead eyes go wide, then light up with perverted delight. “I quite like a fighter.” Quicker than I thought possible, his hand shoots out and grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking my head painfully to the side. I can’t help the cry of pain that slips out as he pulls me to him, forcing my body against his. “We’ll see how feisty you are when I’m done with you, love.” His whisper caresses my ear in a manner reminiscent of how lovers would exchange tender words.
“Jesus Callum! Stop fuckin’ about and get to it! Someone could come by and see us,” Ryan says as he fidgets behind Callum, blowing on his hands to warm them up.
“Alright, get her arms, then.” Ryan moves to Callum’s side.
My blood runs cold as I finally realize that there is no way out of here. My whole body starts shaking uncontrollably from fear. No amount of soothing thoughts will stop the frantic drumming of my heart or the massive amounts of adrenaline rushing through my veins.
“Oi! Back off Murray, and I’ll let you live.” Startled, I attempt to turn my head to see who’s speaking, but Callum’s hand is wound too tightly around my hair to move even a fraction of an inch.
“Leave, Davies, or you’ll end up worse than her, I promise,” Callum hisses. His eyes flash toward the newcomer and I see a flicker of doubt in them.
“Don’t leave me!” I plead with whoever is here. I hate to drag someone else into this, but my overwhelming sense of survival overrides everything else.
“Shut it!” Callum shouts. He brings his leg up as he yanks my head down and knees me in the diaphragm, knocking the air out of my lungs with a whoosh. I start to collapse, but Callum holds me up by my hair as my legs give out, sending another streak of pain across my scalp.
I haven’t yet caught my breath when I’m suddenly released, left to crumple to the ground in a heap. I immediately curl into a ball, groaning in agony, and squeeze my eyes shut. I’m in too much pain from the blow to my abdomen to get up and run, even though every cell in my body is screaming at me to get out of this place.
Helpless and gasping for air, I listen to the unmistakable sounds of fighting; the slap of skin on skin, the crunch of boots on gravel, the guttural grunts, and the cracks of fists landing on bone.
My tear-blurred eyes fly open when a large figure lands on the packed dirt next to me and smacks against it, hard. I focus through the tears and hair and see Callum on the ground a foot away, blood pouring from his nose and in rivulets down his cheek. A set of legs stands next to him, kicking his side repeatedly. Too weak to lift my head, I watch the stranger’s heavy soles as they make contact with Callum over and over.
“Don’t ever fucking touch her again!” the stranger shouts as his boots make contact with Callum’s ribs one final time, eliciting a pathetic whimper from the boy on the ground.
The scuffed black boots circle the injured Callum and stop next to my head, the frayed knees of his jeans coming into view as my savior squats beside me. “Hey, you alright?” He gently scrapes the hair off of my face so he can see me.
Still struggling to breathe, I wipe the tears and snot from my cheeks and have a go at sitting up. “Ow!” The pain in my stomach makes me wince as I shift sideways and look up at my rescuer. “You,” I whisper.
It’s the boy from my school, the one with the beautiful face and exquisite drawings.
“Adam, let’s go before the coppers show up,” his friend says.
Adam, that’s his name. Adam Reynolds. He was in several of my classes today.
Adam looks towards the voice and frowns before turning back to me on the ground. “Here.” Adam extends a shaky hand to help me up. “We need to go.”
I take his hand and he gently pulls me to my feet, making sure I’m steady before releasing me. I get a good look at him and stifle a gasp. He looks upset, murderously upset actually. I’m about to ask him why when a large figure appears behind him and I instinctively take a step back, cowering in fear.
“Don’t worry,” Adam says, recognizing the anxiety I’m projecting. “That’s just Dax, my mate. He took out Mason while I dealt with this asshole.” He jerks his thumb toward Callum, who is still writhing and bleeding on the ground. “Lucky for me I surprised him. He’s a huge bastard and I’m not one for fighting,” Adam attempts a grin, but it’s weak considering the situation. “Not like Dax here.”
“Sorry to frighten you, but we really do need to get out of here,” Dax says, wiping his hands casually
on his jacket, as if this is nothing new for him. I notice that his knuckles are scraped and bleeding and there are drops of blood on his clothes. He moves gracefully around the two of us and disappears through the hole in the fence. I blink and look at Adam’s shaky hands. His are bloodied, the same as Dax’s, but one is also swollen and red.
“Your hand.” I swallow down the nausea that threatens to surface.
“Never mind that.” Adam reaches down and grabs my bag, taking my hand in his good one. “C’mon, we’re leaving.” Tugging gently, he leads me over to the opening in the fence, holding back the twisted metal until I’m safely out of the abandoned yard.
I hear a scuffling sound and another moan and I look over my shoulder nervously, my heart leaping into my throat.
Adam glances back at the two boys on the ground, then turns to me and smirks. “No worries, they’re not coming after us.” He ducks through the fence and straightens up on the path.
Dax walks over and points at Adam’s swollen hand. “I guess practice is out today.”
Adam frowns and looks at his distended fingers, “Yeah, guess so. Sorry mate, I’ll catch up with you later.”
Dax smiles brightly, as if he just left a theme park, not a bloody fight in an abandoned yard. “Right. Thanks for the good time.” He laughs, then his eyes focus on me and the smile vanishes. “Stay away from them,” he insists, walking away without waiting for a response.
“Which way to your place?” Adam asks, raking his uninjured hand through his sweaty, disheveled hair.
Too upset to move or form an answer, I start to tremble violently and tumble forward, right into Adam’s arms.
“Steady on. Are you alright to walk?” He watches me carefully with his bright hazel eyes, concern etched clearly into his handsome features, which are now just a few centimeters from mine.
“I-I ... I don’t know.” I grip my stomach. “I feel queasy.”
Adam laughs and helps me stand up straight. “Yeah, I can see how you would, almost becoming another one of Callum’s victims,” he spits out venomously. Adam wraps his arm around my waist when he realizes I’m too weak to manage myself, and holds me up against his side. “Let’s go then, which way?”
I point in the direction of my flat and we walk the mile in silence. Even though I was just traumatized beyond belief, all I can think about as we head to my place is how Adam’s lean, muscular body is pressed against mine and how beautiful his face is when he smiles at me. I must be completely mental to be having those thoughts after what just happened in that yard, but I am. Just by touching a part of Adam, even through heavy winter clothes, makes me feel safe.
By the time we reach the front of the dilapidated building that I now call home, I get the courage to speak. “This is it.” I look away, embarrassed by my shoddy council housing.
Adam doesn’t seem to care or even notice where I live. He stops and turns to face me, not saying a word about my crumbling building. “Here you go.” He holds out my bag and I hoist it over one shoulder, watching his eyes probe my face for something. Answers, maybe? To find out why I would do something so stupid with someone as dangerous as Callum?
I don’t want to hear him scold me for the obvious, and I don’t want to lose the delicious lightheaded feeling I have when I’m next to him, so before he can say anything else or walk away, I take his outstretched hand and hold it gently, running my thumb over his bruised and swollen knuckles. “Thank you.”
Adam’s eyes widen a fraction, and he looks from our hands back up to my face. His mouth parts and his warm breath hits the cold air when he gasps. I have no idea what possesses me or what makes me think a near death experience is the proper time for this, but I don’t hesitate as I bravely lean in and press a small kiss to the corner of his exquisite mouth.
The moment over, I reluctantly release his hand and walk towards the door, afraid that once I’m inside, Adam will vanish like a dream, taking this wonderful warm feeling with it. He doesn’t speak as I retreat, but watches me curiously with those intriguing eyes of his until I shut the battered door behind me. The swirling emotions I had been holding in release from me all at once. Sliding down the wall to the floor, I simultaneously cry and smile at the same time.
Is it possible for today to be both the best and worst day of my life? Touching my still tingling lips and feeling the throb in my stomach from Callum’s knee, I decide that yes, yes it can.
Chapter 3
Adam
“For fuck’s sake, Reynolds! Don’t you know how to throw a punch?”
Dax is angry, and rightly so. “I guess I don’t,” I mutter, feeling unbelievably stupid that I mangled my hand on that arsehole Murray’s face. I can’t do anything but watch as my best mate paces the length of his family’s flat.
“You stupid fucking sod! How are we supposed to play on Saturday? We finally have a chance for a real gig and your fucking hand is all busted up!” He yanks open his freezer, puts a few ice cubes into a towel, and shoves it into my chest.
Bristling at his crap attitude, I snatch the makeshift ice pack and shout back, “I can still play, you fucking wanker! I’m not letting a few bruises stop me, it never stops you! And what were we supposed to do, let that bastard rape her?” I hiss in pain when I press the cold towel to my swollen fingers.
Dax whips his head around and scowls at me, but his tone is softer. “Of course not, but you could have done it without breaking your hand. Didn’t anyone ever teach you how to fight?”
“My dad tried, but probably not in the way you’re thinking.” I frown as I attempt to ignore the freezing ice burning into the split skin. “Murray has a really hard head. You take him next time and I’ll get Mason, he’s a fucking marshmallow in comparison! And you know I hate fighting, Dax. We can’t all be like you, beating the shit out of people for fun.”
“Next time?” Dax’s eyes go wide and he stares at me like I’m daft. “You plan on making this a habit? Are you Batman now or something?”
Laughing, I shove him away with my good hand. “Bastard.” I manage to evade his question, not wanting him to know that I have every intention of making sure no one touches Ellie Palmer like that ever again.
School goes back to normal the next day, well, as normal as it can be when you find yourself inexplicably obsessed with someone and come up with every excuse you can just to stare at her. I start ignoring all of the girls who approach me, their attempts at being sexy lost on me when all I can think about is Ellie.
I can’t bring myself to be the confident flirt I was just a day ago, chatting her up after she was nearly raped yesterday. I’m sure the last thing she wants right now is a bloke all up in her face looking for a quick fuck.
I never manage to work up the courage to talk to Ellie about the incident with Callum or the kiss either, and she seems to feel just as awkward as I do, so we stick to exchanging small nods every morning and then go back to pretending that we don’t know each other.
By the end of the week, I can very nearly convince myself that Ellie wasn’t almost raped by Callum Murray and Ryan Mason, and that I didn’t break four of his ribs and his nose to stop it. Then I clench my hand in anger and it aches from the swelling, and the reality of it all seeps back in.
The final bell rings on Friday and I hang back so Ellie can get a head start home before I follow her, just like I have every day since she showed up here five days ago. I pull my bag up on my shoulder and head for the front door of the school, but a hand on my arm holds me back.
“Oi! Where are you going?” I turn and see Dax staring at me with a look that says he thinks I’ve gone completely mental.
Annoyed, I crane my neck around him to see if Ellie is out of sight yet. Thank God, she’s still outside talking to another girl.
“You’re a twisted fuck,” Dax laughs, following my line of sight and spotting Ellie. “How many days are you going to stalk her, mate? Better yet, how many girls have you turned down since meeting her even though you haven’t gotten in her kn
ickers?”
“Shut it!” I yank my arm away from Dax’s tight grip and frown. I’ve turned down a lot of girls. Girls that I once found attractive, I’m suddenly finding pushy and annoying. I hadn’t realized he noticed.
“Well, make it quick. We have to practice with your fucked up hand to get ready for tomorrow. Don’t forget, our usual place at six.” Dax whirls around and leaps down the front steps of the school, laughing until he’s out of earshot.
When I get to my crap flat an hour later, I dump my stuff on the mattress in my room and grab my guitar and notebook. Ellie hung out in front of the school talking to that girl for nearly twenty minutes before she started for home, so now I’m going to be late to practice and Dax is going to kill me.
“You’re la-aate!” a voice sings out from the open basement window of an abandoned business near Dax’s flat.
“Shut your gob,” I toss back as I slither through the grimy opening and drop to the floor, turning to tug my battered guitar case through the hole.
Dax doesn’t answer. Instead, he strums his guitar, humming along wordlessly to some random tune he plucks out off the top of his head. This is where Dax and I fit together perfectly, songwriting. We both have this weird ability to complete each other’s thoughts. I’ll start on a melody, and he’ll bring it somewhere I’m not expecting. He’ll think up a few lyrics, and I’ll finish them perfectly. It always comes out brilliant in the end.
I pull out the beat up old acoustic guitar that I bought second hand after scrounging up money for months doing odd jobs here and there for my older brother, Danny. Jobs I’d rather not think about, except every time I run my calloused fingers over the strings it reminds me of how fucked up my family is.
“Does it hurt?” Dax has stopped playing to watch me carefully, a concerned look on his face.
“Of course it fucking hurts, but I’m not going to let it stop me. Let’s do this.”
We play for hours as I jot down the melodies and lyrics that we come up with in my notebook, erasing and fine-tuning until we’re satisfied. My stupid hand is throbbing and protesting the repetitive movements as it dances over the neck of the guitar, creating the only thing that brings me happiness in this pitiful excuse for a life.
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