Stolen

(3) -- Walking Straight

I gritted my teeth, the angry panic rising in my drunken chest. My feet wouldn't walk straight and the world was moving in weird ways. As I was now stood, the amount of alcohol I had consumed was catching up with me. Everything was a consistency of water, my legs jellied. It wasn't helpful that this was the point in my life that I needed them the most.

Because this boy. This ass, was taking me away. To do god knows what with me.

Where was Lara and Darren? If they were here I wouldn't be in this big fat mess.

The boy gripping my walked -or more like guided me - down the pavement. Shit, shit, shitt...

He suddenly span me and I stumbled until my back pressed slammed hard against the wall.

"Get off!" I cried, pushing him away as his body crushed against mine. "Get off, get off, get off! What the hell are you doing? What is your problem?"

"Shh, baby. It's okay." His hot breath whisked down the skin on my neck and his lips pressed hot against my cold shoulder, his teeth pinching up my neck.

I tried to push him away, but I couldn't. Please let this not be happening! "Let, me, go!" I shrieked, trying to shove him away with every word.

His lips moved up to mine, crushing against me until it began to hurt.

His hand moved up my thigh and just as his fingers got just under the bottom of my dress, he was gone, and someone was shouting.

"What the hell Mark? What the hell do you think you're doing?" I recognised the voice, but not where from. I couldn't really see who it was. The back street was curling under the street lamp, and all of the light was swirling. Who says light travels in straight lines? My knees collapsed under the sudden lack of support and the pressure of the situation.

"Why does it bloody concern you?" Through the swirling world, I could see a boy gripping another by the collar and shaking him. The other boy - the one held by the collar - was fuming. His fists were bunched so tightly his knuckles were white.

"Why are you such an ass?" The first, familiar boy continued. "She doesn't need you messing her around."

"Why do you care?"

"Why shouldn't I care?"

"Because you're a selfish bastard that has never given a crap about anyone else before!" The boy speaking suddenly burst - striking up from below at the fists gripping his shirt. "And you're not even going to deny it, are you." Mark paused. "Are you?!"

Without any warning, the familiar boy swung out, smacking Mark in face with his fist. Mark's head was now turned towards me, his eyes shocked. I suddenly knew who the boy was. The one who had hit Mark. He stood, his smoky breath curling in the light. I could hear him - his breath huffing. Blazing, Mark swung back, hitting him - East.

I closed my eyes, wishing I was somewhere else. Prayed I was somewhere else. There was shouts, thuds of fists, and swearing. My head was spinning. Too much alcohol...

"East - I thought we understood each other." I opened my eyes after a minute to find Mark pressed against the pavement, East's fists gripping his collar again.

"You've never been more wrong," East hissed. I could only sit slumped on the floor watching them. I could do nothing. "Don't even look at her, or I will kick your ass again." East gave Mark a final shove, then stood up, his eyes reaching to me as he began to walk over.

"Thanks," I murmured as he reached down and pulled me to my feet. I looked down, my eyes checking myself. Very lightly East reached out his hand and gently tilted up my chin, making me meet his eyes.