The Stars In Your Eyes ✩ Tim Shepard

Never Walk Alone At Night

He had black, greasy, curly hair, smoldering dark blue eyes, that glowed in the dim light, a seriously crooked nose, and a jagged scar from temple to chin. He looked almost cat-like.

"You should never walk alone at night." He said in a deep gravelly voice. I looked up at him with fearful eyes, I couldn't move and I was having trouble breathing.

I had never been more scared in all my life. It occurred to me then, that these people could kill me. "A-are you g-going to hurt me?" I somehow asked between my ragged breathing.

The boy's dark blue eyes widened slightly, almost in a questioning way. He shook his head, with a low chuckle. "Not unless you hurt one of us."

I was still breathing heavily as I crossed my arms and looked down at my feet. "C-can I go?" I asked quietly.

"She's cute." A girl said before the boy could answer. "I love her hair."

I flinched as she reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. She looked a lot like the boy with the scar, with the same black, wavey hair and big, glassy Sapphire blue eyes. She was beautiful with her gold hoop earrings and all. But she couldn't be any older than sixteen.

"Angela," The boy with the scar said in a warning voice.

"Tim," The girl mocked, stepping away and resting her arm on another boy's shoulder.

I recognized him as the boy from the end of the alley. He looked similar to Angela and Tim, if I didn't know any better, I'd say they were siblings. They sure acted like siblings.

I'd like to think my siblings and I would have acted like that if we weren't raised to be so proper. But I don't know, maybe that's just how gang members act.

"What are we gonna do with her?" The unnamed boy asked, jamming his fists in his jacket pockets. They were all wearing black or brown leather jackets or vests.

"Well, it's like I said," Tim replied, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Never walk alone at night."

"You're gonna walk her home?" A boy behind me piped up, making me remember I was still surrounded by greasers.

"She's obviously a soc," Angela added. "You really gonna walk her all the way to the west side and run the risk of getting jumped?"

Tim shrugged. "I can deal with a few socs. And what do you want me to do, let her walk and get jumped?"

No one said anything, I guess you couldn't really argue with the guy that looked like he could tear you apart limb by limb.

Tim turned to me, his arms still crossed, and his eyes still dark. "Where do you live?"

I looked up at him. Until now, I had been quiet, listening silently, but now he asked a direct question that I couldn't ignore.

"N-not far..." I choked out, my breathing starting to settle down as I took a deep breath. "I can go by myself."

"Well, then, there you go." The boy Angela was leaning on said harshly. "The little soc can walk on her own."

"Curly," Tim said, sending a warning glare at the boy. "Don't do anything stupid till I get back." He added, uncrossing his arms and pointing at one of the boys behind me.

"You got it, Shepard." The boy who talked before said, making Curly scoff. I felt a lump form in my throat. Shepard. As in, Tim Shepard, the leader of the Shepard gang, and the boy that was going to walk me home. How was I not already dead?

I flinched as Tim put a hand on my shoulder. He quickly pulled it away, however, instead nodding in the direction I was going before his gang stopped me. I somehow managed to get my feet moving, taking one last glance at the five other gang members before we left the alley and started toward my house.

The night was still brisk, and now I had a cold sweat down my back that chilled me even more than I already was. Not to mention, I was still short of breath. I was trying to hide it, but I've never been a good liar.

Tim, who walked with his hands in his jacket pockets, must have noticed because he spoke up. "Are you okay?" He grumbled. "You look cold."

I glanced over at him. I was freezing and freaking out. Yeah, I think I was okay. "Well, the leader of a gang is walking me home, I'm great," I said sarcastically, not knowing where I found the courage to say it.

Tim chuckled lightly, and a second later I felt something lightly fall over my shoulders. "I think you're just cold." He said.

The faded scent of beer and cigarettes on Tim's black leather jacket stung my eyes. But it was warm and I was cold, so I wasn't complaining. But I didn't thank him either, though, I knew probably should have.

"Aren't you cold?" I asked curiously.

Tim shrugged, looking up at the sky, the stars reflecting in his dark sapphire eyes. The moonlight also highlighted the long scar on the left side of his face. I couldn't help but wonder how he got it.

"I don't get cold often." He said, more to the stars than to me.

"That must be nice," I mumbled, thinking about how I was always too cold or too hot.

Tim hummed in response as he scratched his chin. Suddenly he asked, "What's it like being a soc?"

"Huh?" I didn't know what he meant. Well, I did, his question just caught me off guard.

"What's it like being a soc?" He repeated, tilting his head so his dark eyes met my brown ones. I looked away, instead looking at the sidewalk in front of me.

"It sucks," I said honestly, my arms still tightly crossed over my chest.

"I doubt that." He said spitefully. "You guys have all the money in the world to throw around. I bet you don't know what to do with it, so you throw parties and destroy houses and jump innocent kids. And I bet with your good looks you got boyfriend after boyfriend to satisfy you." He was almost yelling as his rant delved deeper.

We had come to a stop by then, and I just looked at him. He was angry, but not at me, maybe at the world though. What he said about socs was true. We did have money to just throw around. And we didn't know what to do with it, so we got our kicks in, in other ways. But I don't know how much was true about the last part. I'd never had a boyfriend before.

I glance down and to the side. I knew he wasn't wrong, but he wasn't completely right either.
"Things are rough all over," I said, shrugging off Tim's jacket and holding it out for him to take. "My house is just around the corner," I added quietly.

Tim snatched back his jacket but saw right through my lie. "You just want me to leave because I'm right." He said. I shook my head.

"You're not wrong, but you're not right either," I said, starting to walk again. Suddenly Tim grabbed my wrist and jerked me back.

"Exactly what am I wrong about?" He growled, holding onto my shoulders. I looked up at him again with fearful eyes, and he looked down at me. I was having trouble breathing again, and my chest started hurting.

"P-please let me go." I gasped.

Tim's eyes instantly softened at my words. He quickly let go of my shoulders, stepping back as he cleared his throat.

"Let's get you home." He said, not looking at me. I nodded, taking a deep breath. The rest of the way we walked in complete silence, eventually stopping at my bedroom window.

The window was already open because I only ever shut it in the winter. I took off my flats, throwing them into the room before climbing inside myself.

"You even climb like a soc," Tim commented. I rolled my eyes.

"Thank you," I said quietly. "For walking me home."

"I guess you owe me then." He shrugged, again looking up at the sky. Again, I rolled my eyes.

"Hey," Tim said before I could close my curtains. "I never caught your name."

"Connie," I said quietly. He nodded, waving as he walked away.

I sighed, closing my curtains and falling back into bed, my hand going up to my neck, where my sapphire, teardrop necklace should have been. It was gone. Suddenly, I had a vague memory of something tugging on my neck as Angela complimented my hair.

That bitch.