Making up for lost time ~Hat Films Fan Fiction~

Chapter 6.5 - (Worst of days)

'Not even the decency to show up' Trott hissed miserably in his thoughts. He had moved from the sofa to the table and chairs, where he sat drinking a cup of tea. It was around midday and Alex still hadn't swagger through the door, boasting of his night yet. It was unfair how much Smith's actions could effect Chris and he hated it. Again checking the clock, it was nearly 12:40. Trott felt anger bubble inside of him, deciding that he'd spend his night out getting drunk and sleeping with a stranger, even if it was only 20 to one. He moved himself up and made his way to the bathroom. After cleaning his teeth, showering and shrugging on new clothes he pulled on a black, leather jacket. Chris checked himself in the mirror and felt heart fallen. His small body frame and lack of height made him look childish. His face was that of an adults - That is, if he didn't smile, but other than that, he look merely like a kid. 'No wonder Alex is the one who gets laid'. Chris groaned internally, but the thought of Alex sleeping around refilled his anger levels and his determination to forget Smith. "Ross mate, I'm going out. See you later." Trott shouted up the stairs, shutting the door before hearing Ross' reply. Before Chris went out on the prowl, he decided to take a walk around the places he use to go as a child. The school, past the entrance of the woods, his old house and last on the tour, Smith's old house. Staring up at the simple building, Trott was shrouded in a feeling of nostalgia. He smiled to himself remembering the old Alex that wasn't into the whole 'sleeping with strangers' thing. But it was replaced with an embarrassed and hurt feeling causing his face to drop and wrinkle. Smith, in a drunken state had also told Trott that he had loved him. It was obviously meant in a friendship way, but it gave Chris false hope and meant that how he felt now made everything complicated in his head. Shaking his mind free of thoughts, Trott returned to Bristol's main street, it was now about 4:30. He'd managed calmed down slightly until he saw her. Rose strode down the other side of the street, her long, tall legs gliding down the pavement. 'Can see why Alex slept with her.' He spat in his mind. The tall figure shortly disappeared and once again the feeling returned.

At 7 o'clock Trott was finally drunk enough that he forgot all his problems. All the hatred, misery and longing that usually complicated his life, simply gone. He'd flirted around a bit, got some numbers but there was no one he felt comfortable with taking to bed. Even in his drunken state, Chris knew that he couldn't last any longer. A skimpy dressed, purple haired girl managed to keep him for a bit longer but after the 4th sexual suggestion from her, Trott excused himself and left. It was about 8:40 yet it was pitch black, it was slowly descending into winter and the crisp, cold air was a shock from the sweaty air of a club. Chris tripped, stumbled and fell his way back, deciding to take a short cut through some small alleyways. Putting a hand against the fence to support his drunken state, Trott wound his away around the maze of alleys. He'd cornered one fence and came face to face with about 3 or 4 men, shifting awkwardly by the opposite wall speaking in hushed tones and trading items. Trott looked over and made eye contact with one of the men. "What you looking at?" He spat, Trott said nothing, quickly looked away and continued on, the neon sign of the corner shop slowly coming into view. Footsteps rushed up behind him and as he turned around he felt a large object hit the back of his head, falling backwards someone caught him, pushing him back into a standing position. "What did you see?" The tallest and most arrogant looking of the men shouted, after getting a dazed look in response he drew back his arm and threw a punch into Trott's stomach. Clutching at his stomach Chris attempted to speak, managing a "N-noth-" before another large object hit him this time in the middle of his back. Chris wavered on his feet, his mind and body dazed from the alcohol and the repeated punches and hits he had taken to his head. "This'll teach you a lesson for sticking your goddamn nose where it doesn't belong!" The men crowded him, pushing him from one man to another, taunting him. One of the smaller men moved outward towards him, a sadistic smile outwardly showing his intentions he pulled out what looked like an improvised knife. Grabbing Trott by the shoulders he felt a sharp pain shoot right through his stomach. He collapsed against the fence and was stripped of his jacket, leaving him just in a hoodie. Clutching at the wound he looked down to realise that he was bleeding. Laughter erupted from the men around him before they began kicking him, his stomach, his chest, his shins, no part of him was safe. Coughing, Trott felt a warm liquid come from his mouth, lifting a trembling arm to wipe it away he realised that it was blood. Struggling to breathe the group of men signalled an end to his 'lesson', spitting on him as they all rushed to leave the alleyway. Trott pushed himself into a sitting position, slouching down to where the cold road met the rusted fence. He sat in an almost tranquil like state, absorbing the pain and laughing to himself, "Another infamous lesson for Chirs Trott ay?" Before he fell asleep.

The noise of increased traffic woke him, reaching for his trouser pocket, Trott pulled out his phone, thanking he didn't leave it in his jacket. The screen was blurry from the toxins of alcohol but as soon as he took it out, the screen quickly turned black and a red and green circle appeared. Sliding the green circle across, after many futile attempts, Trott heard Ross' voice come thought. "Trott? Chris mate is that you?" Chris felt himself break. Hearing his friends voice felt like such a distant feeling.

Mate it's almost 10 o'clock where in the blazes are you?" Trott could feel tears forming at his eyes, he didn't want to die, he wanted to stay with his friends and in his home. He wanted to stay with Alex. Coughing and spluttering, he took a deep breath. Inhaling the scent of blood and car fumes. Mustering all of the energy left inside of his broken body, Chris managed to utter three words, a plea;

"Help me, please."