Chapter 5 ~ Saved

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Walter jogged back to me and the door was shut.

"Who was that?" I asked as we started walking again.

"Gomez. Erm, he was just...telling me something."

Well it was obvious Walter didn't want me to know, but I had guessed right.

 We walked for ten minutes in silence, it was a bit awkward but I just honestly wanted to get home. By now, we were in the west part of town, heading south.

"Stay close," Walter murmured as we walked down brick walled streets covered in graffiti. We had already passed several drunks and a few dodgy looking guys. To be honest, Walter made me feel so much safer.

"It's fine Walter," I said. "Besides it's only nine 'o' clock."

Walter was silent for a while, then he spoke, "You were out here the other night weren't you? We bumped into each other."

I was hoping he had forgotten about that. It was, come to think of it, pretty embarrassing. But either way I replied, "Yes."

"What were you doing around here so late?" He asked. 

Well I didn't want to answer that truthfully, because it was a bit personal. "I was coming back from a friend's house," I mumbled. I had actually gone for a long walk so I didn't have to witness my Dad while he was drunk. It upset me, and it also wasn't safe for me either as I had found out multiple times. Sometimes I felt safer out in the night, than in my own home.

Walter nodded. Then he added, "You sure you don't want me to drop you home?"

I looked away from his gorgeous gaze and fixed my eyes on the grimy pavement. "Yeah."


We both slowed down when we came to the Southern part of the area. 

"So...see you in school?" I asked quietly.

Walter smiled, "For sure. Goodnight."

I smiled my real smile back for the first time at him, "Bye." Then I was on my way again. I didn't look back, but I could tell he was standing there watching me as I walked away under the properly working streetlamps.


As I  drew nearer to my house, I could tell something was wrong. My front door was wide open and all the lights were on inside. Before I could try to figure out what was going on, a greasy hand clamped round my mouth. 

"Where 'ave you been?" My fathers voice snarled in my ear. It was obvious he'd been at the booze.

I tried not to panic, that would make him only more aggressive. 

"Where 'ave you been?!" He asked louder, his reeking breath filling my nostrils. I tried to answer but his hand was still over my mouth and I was starting to feel nauseous. It smelt like alcohol, sweat, dirt and sick.

My father threw me to the ground and I went crashing into the pavement outside our house. I cut my hands but my knees were cushioned by my jeans. Well this was new, I thought to myself. My Dad never did this sort of thing outside in potential public. But I guessed it could work to my advantage, if anyone bothered to look out their window. 

I tried to get back up, but my Dad pushed me down again. I rolled over in time to see him throw a bottle at me. It went smashing into the ground beside my head, the last remaining alcohol splashing over me. My father wasn't even shouting anymore, which was chilling. He bent down to pick another bottle of the front door then he smashed it. He stood above me holding the dripping sharped edged glass, but he never got the chance to do me more damage because a figure went crashing into him knocking him off his feet. 

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