My Benefactor

My Benefactor Chapter Twenty Two

My Benefactor

Copyright © 2011 crimsonnebula

All rights reserved

Chapter Twenty Two

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Enjoy! No proofreading done. And sorry, it's short.

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(Bryson's POV)

I'm a guy.

Typically, if a guy - a hormonal one, might I add - would confront a catfight, the normal response would be "Wow! That's hot!", "Damn!", "Hell yeah!" or whatever was generally said to such circumstance.

To such event graced the male populace, they viewed it as live sadistic lesbian porno. 

But, I wasn't your typical normal guy.

A catfight between two female Alerians; an ex girlfriend and a girl whom I had slept with two years ago, wasn't considered hot on my vocabulary.

Brutal would be appropriate.

I was shocked to say when Rebecca landed on my car's windshield with a crash, followed by a pissed off Ciara, charging like a red bull to finish her off...

All I could do for five seconds was stare.

45 minutes earlier...

I sighed. Reagan has been incognito for two days now.

I'd been trying to reach her, but as always, it went straight to her voicemail. Where on earth could she be? Of all days where I was ready to pour my heart out and tell her how she still meant to me, but what? She wasn't here, and here I was looking for her high and low or worst, checked if she was in one of her classes like a stalker.

I couldn't help it. I needed to see her.

I needed to tell her.

I needed Reagan back to me.

The hallways were empty, seeing school ended an hour ago. I wasn't kee in going home yet, because my deranged ex girlfriend was hounding me like mad woman, convincing me to reestablish the relationship.

I thought, maybe she was going through a phase of mending her broken heart, denial at its pique. But, her unstable behaviour had proven that she wasn't going through a tough time.

She was delusional.

As I got out of the building, I wandered to the parking lot where my car was parked. I clicked on the child safety lock with my remote, got in, and threw my backpack at the backseat in the process. I started the car and heaved out a sigh. As I drove away, I'd only hope that Ciara wasn't there to bother me.

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I was relieved there was no sign of her at the front door. Well, usually she would wait outside, or in my bedroom, but half of the time was at the front door. If I pegged myself as a stalker looking for Reagan, then she was 10 times worst than I am.