Love Thy Neighbour *editing*

"D'you think your wee babby likes swimmin', Evie?"

So I kept walking, talking quietly to Riley to distract myself from the sudden unease I felt in the pit of my stomach. The person stopped a couple of feet away, before screaming to the heavens, his jumper riding up and flashing me a tattoo that was etched across his back.

I froze.

The name “Leyla” was scrawled across the drunk’s skin, the letters swirling and large.

Denny had had an ex who had died, whose name was Leyla Samuels.

Swallowing, I started to edge back down the path, willing Riley not to make a sound. We would find some other way to get to the shop. There was no way that I was going to pass Denny with Riley here.

At that moment, Riley managed to crick his neck from looking around too fast, wailing loudly as he stared at me in confusion.

Slowly, painfully slowly, Denny turned, his face dark beneath his hood. His eyes were dangerously bright in contrast, and his smirk was plastered across his lips, completely and utterly unwavering.

I mouthed wordlessly, gripping tightly onto the handle of the pram, completely unable to soothe my crying child. This couldn’t be happening. There was no way that I had managed to stumble across Denny.

Alone.

With no witnesses.

He staggered towards me. I should have run in the opposite direction, but the path was only marginally wider than Riley’s pushchair, which would mean completely leaving myself vulnerable to him.

I had learnt a long time ago to never turn my back on Denny, no matter how scared I was.

“Is this the babby, Evie?” he asked, peering into the pram. Riley suddenly stopped crying, his eyes going huge as he took in Denny. His resemblance to Niall was uncanny, and a lump rose in my throat as I realised that I wasn’t the only one here who had noticed.

“He’s got yoor eyes,” Denny remarked, touching Riley’s cheek. I bit my tongue and tightened my grip on the pram further as I tried not to slap his hand away from my baby. I would try not to provoke him. If anything, it might save Riley from getting hurt.

Denny looked up at me, staring me in the eye as he took a step towards me.

“Yoo turned intae a mute, Evie?” he demanded in a low voice. He lunged at me, fastening a hand in my hair as he dragged me away from the pram. Struggling against him, I didn’t take my eyes from Riley, whose eyes were darting around frantically as he tried to work out what had just happened.

“Ah said,” Denny bellowed in my ear, “have yoo gone mute?” His words bounced around my brain, and it was with a heavy heart that I whimpered. He pushed my head against the brick wall of the bridge, his nostrils flaring furiously.

“No!” I shouted, shaking against him. “I’m not mute!” His eyes – if it was at all possible – suddenly got even brighter, as though he had just been waiting for me to say something back.

“There’s ma Evie,” he hissed proudly, pressing up against me. “Ma Evie. She used tae have a spark…” He ran his fingers over my cheek bone, “she used tae have a bit of fire…” He slapped me quickly across the face.

“She used tae have a bit o’ fuckin’ respect!” he yelled. Riley screamed, his cries cutting through me almost painfully. But when I tried to move, to comfort him, I was forced back up against the wall, Denny’s forearm across the front of my throat.

I looked up at him, with wide fear filled eyes. What the hell was he going to do to us?

“D’you think your wee babby likes swimmin’, Evie?” Denny asked quietly.