Running~A Leo Valdez Fanfiction

Chapter Two

Leo's POV

A fierce strike to the face leaves my left cheek bruised.

"Come on baby, have you had enough yet?" My taunters say.

Someone kicks me in my shin and I fall on my side.

"Can baby say anything? Baby, speak." Another one commands.

I try to say something anything. But it only comes out as a groan.

"I. Said. To. Say. Something."

With each word I get a kick in my chest.

I lay on my back, clutching my stomach.

"What?" I manage to croak out.

"That'll do." I can hear the smile in their voice.

Then one of the four bends down and punches my shoulder, while another kicks my knee.

"Are you okay baby? Do you need a nap baby?"

I feel tears burning my eyes, from pain and humiliation. Mostly pain though.

"How is-"

My gasp blocks out the rest of his words.

I can't breathe. Someone knocked out my breath.

Thankfully, after a few long seconds, I get a kick to my back, giving me a burst of air.

"Come on baby. I'll ask you again. Give me your money."

I stay silent, other than my gasps for air.

I need that money. Once I runaway I need that money to pay off the taxi driver for my ride far away.

Cause I'm not coming back.

The boy grabs me right below my shoulders, one hand for each shoulder, and pins me against the wall of the alley. My feet dangling.

Now I can get a good look at him
He is a few years older than me, if not older.

He is tall and well built. The hoodie of his jacket covers his face, but I can make out dark brown eyes, almost black.

The harsh look he holds in his eyes just made this a whole lot scarier.

"Give me it. Or does baby need another lesson on obedience?"

I don't say anything and he jerks me forwards then back again.

Smashing my head against the wall. I let out a small cry of pain. I feel a small bump form on the back of my head and hot tears flow down my face.

"Oh, is baby crying? Does baby need his mommy? Give us the money and I'll let you go on home to cry with your momma."

Tears flow in my silence and I am helpless to wipe them away. I struggle to move my arms from their awkward uncomfortable position.

Nothing works.

I feel a cool wet drop of moisture hit my left cheek, and realize he spit on me.

"Search his pockets." He demands of the other boys.

They stick their hands in my jeans pockets and pull it out with my money.

"That's mine! I need that!" I shriek.

One of the boys, not the one pinning me, covers my mouth with his dirty hand.

Then with his other hand he grabs a handful of my curly brown hair and forces my head up, against the brick wall.

"How old are you kid?" He asks, the new voice gruff.

When I don't answer he pulls my hair.

"Seventeen." I whimper.