The Misunderstanding of Fate

Chapter 12 - Short Friendships

My fingers are shaking as I play with the bag in my hands and match their stares. As soon as my initial shock begins to lessen, I notice that I know these people and they know me. These are George's other friends and, judging from the looks I'm getting, they are not happy with me right now. That hardly seemed fair - I wasn't the one beating a random guy up. I hadn't done anything wrong so why were they glaring at me like that?

George's widened eyes slowly return to their neutral stare. He turns back to the victim and, seeing the opportunity, I turn while dropping my bag and begin to run out of the alley. It's a long shot since I'm so far in but what other options did I have? Watch the events, wait for them to finish, and then what? What was my outcome in this? My breath is heavy both from the shock and the running as I listen to the following footsteps. Which one of them is following? Looking back now would be a horrible mistake as it would just slow me down and I'm pretty sure I could guess which one is right behind me. If I know him... ah, well, I don't.

"Luna! Stop!" His commanding voice reaffirms my suspicion that it's George running after me. When I turn the corner, I almost expect to lose him but let out a small scream from my lips when large arms wrap around my waist to pull me against his chest and lift my feet from the ground. Surely I wasn't that slow. How the hell did he catch up that quickly? I thought I could make it to the shop with little effort on my part but clearly I was wrong.

As I ponder over his speed, George's fists ball into my skirt (a bad habit he seemed to have picked up since I met him) causing it to rise. Despite how high my skirt if right now and how much of my legs are showing, the only ting worrying me is the scene I just witnessed and the nature of the man holding me. Without saying a word, I attempt to push out of his arms by squirming around in his grip.

Hi mouth is situated right next to my ear, his breath sending shivers down my body, as he instructs, "Stop."

The one word comes out as whisper. A whisper that's filled with more authority than shouting ever could be. So I stop moving knowing that it's useless to even try when he's in this mood. The kind of mood where he feels he can boss me around and I'm just going to have to listen. George stands with me in his arms in silence and, without conversation, my worry soon turns to anger. There was no way I was just going to accept his laying down. Was he stupid? How could I be so stupid?

He tries again, "Let's go to my—"

I let out a laugh full of sarcasm, "I'm not going anywhere with you."

George scoffs at my attitude, "Don't be difficult, Luna."

We aren't facing each other which makes this conversation both awkward and easier. For a couple of minutes we bicker back and forth about going somewhere before he comes to realise that I'm locked in his arms. If he wanted us to go somewhere, he had physical control over that right now.

When he begins to walk, my anger increases, "I swear to God I'll scream if you don't put me down."

Without giving me a verbal response, one hands moved from my skirt to cover my mouth. I do what anyone else would do: I scream. It's barely audible and muffled since his hand obstructs my mouth so I begin kicking around as a way of escaping. My efforts make no impact on the hulk who simply continues walking.

The image of his car halts any of my movements. Was this guy really dumb? I don't want to go anywhere with him. Why would he force me? Did he just enjoy fighting with me? Well, fighting in general. My anger reaches a new and rare level when he removes his hand from my mouth only to open the passenger door. He places me on the seat like a child, holds me in place like a child, and puts my seat belt on like a child. As he does this, I turn my face away so I don't have to look at him. I want him to know how angry I am. Seeing my defiance, George runs his hand through my flowing hair to move it out of my face. Still, I avoid looking or facing him. I don't want to see the look on his face.