Wait, what? Me and Eminem?! (An Eminem Fan-Fiction) *Completed*

Chapter Two

I nodded solemnly. "It's what me and my father've both wanted ever since I was young. He was determined I would have a better life than he did."

An awkward silence filled the air as the memory of my father lingered around us. Respectfully, Mr. Rizzo cleared his throat and bowed his head slightly. "Well, I'm sure you'll get there." I nodded in agreement, and packed everything into my sleek briefcase. "Shall we?"

"Yes." I walked to the doorway and he pulled the door closed behind us, locking it firmly. We proceeded to the elevator, walking past all the empty cubicles and offices. It reminded me of how my father's house had been after his passing. Walking through the home I'd grown in, every single space held some sort of memory for us. The couch he'd kept for 26 years, that was where he cried after my mother left. The porch, now probably covered with dead leaves and debris, that was where he'd waited for me day after day after school until I'd climb the stairs and fling myself into his arms for a hug. Everything about the house felt eerie now, even uncomfortable. I coudn't bear to go there again.

My heels clicked on the garage concrete as Mr. Rizzo generously walked me to my car and I climbed it. "Be safe on the way home, alright?" he said.

"You too. Thank you." I pulled out of the parking lot, locked the doors, and slid into the vast and empty streets of Detroit. Lit blunts decorated the air as the neighborhood thugs grouped together after dark to spit rhymes and pick fights. The sky was painted navy and moonlight shone down onto the streets, needing no lamp light. The stars had been scattered by God's hand, and everything was quiet in my car. My hand reached to the radio dial, and after some adjusting, my father's old classical CD came on. I leaned back, relaxed in my seat, and smiled weakly. Dad couldn't have given me much, but he did give me his love of classical music, unique everywhere, especially Detroit.

Right as the first song faded out, my car began suddenly spluttering. My heart sank as it began to die down, slowly but surely. I managed to steer it onto the side of the road before it sneezed massively, and then the engine whirred to a total stop. My heart was pounding as I pushed open the car door and, in my high heels, took tiny steps up until the hood of the car. Smoke curled out, and sneaked into my lungs, and I began coughing. When the smoke was cleared, I peered inside. What am I even looking for? I have no knowledge whatsoever with cars. I sighed and debated what to do. I was going to be stuck here for some time, and I didn't want to be stuck in the middle of the night near North 8 Mile Road.

Sometime after midnight, it struck me that maybe, just maybe I should be calling for help. So frantically, I grabbed my phone and called Luna. Not once, but twice. Up to eleven times. I left her countless voice mails. Nothing. She didn't answer. I had no one else to call that I really trusted as much as I trusted my best friend, so me, being as tired and bad ass as I am, climbed out of the car, briefcase under one arm, and high heels in the other, began my approximately one mile and a half walk home.

Walking in Detroit during the daylight makes me nervous, even after so many years, but walking during the nights is something I never want to do again. Occassionally, I'd pass by a group of gangsters, and as I walked, I could feel their intense stares penetrating through my clothes. All I could do was be ready to run and just continue to hum the tune of Dad's CD in my mind.

I was about half a mile from my house when I felt someone grab me from the back. Just when I had thought I was going to make it home unharmed, it all crashed down on me. Before I could scream, a hand flew to my mouth and he tucked my small body into the curve of his.

A gruff voice said, "Don't move. If you move, I'll kill you. I'll kill you."

I bit my lip so hard, blood flowed freely through my mouth and he was holding me so hard, I felt like my body would be numb when he let me go. If he let me go. Holding me tight still, he fumbled with my briefcase, and it dropped onto the dark concrete, my precious papers littering the ground. I squealed at the sight of my hard work ruined, and how angry Mr. Rizzo would be.

"Shut up, bitch. What'chu doing walkin' around so late at night, huh? What'chu doing? Don't talk. If you talk, I'll kill you." His breath trickled down my back, sending chills down my spine. I wanted to sob, but I gnawed on the wound inside my mouth quietly and tasted what I feared would be my last. "You lookin' good," he breathed heavily, and I heard fumbling. My skirt was loosened, and my body tensed with shock, and I flailed out. I shrieked out no into his hand, and his touch hardened, bruising me.

"What did I just say to you?!" he roared. I was considering what I could do to will myself to pass out so I wouldn't feel or remember a thing, but just as I was about to hold my breath, I felt myself being knocked onto the ground, and the man's bulky body fell on mine.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" another man thundered furiously. "What the fuck man!" The beefy man was lifted off of me swiftly, and I heard the two men bickering. I lay on the ground, face down, head on the pavement, but I listened intently, my breath shaky in my lungs, barely breathing from the tension.

"Yo, what the fuck do you think you're doing, dawg? Leave her the fuck alone!" I heard a groan and a slam, and the man who had assaulted me landed a few feet away from me on the ground, knocked breathless. The pavement was cold and my body was feeling frigid, so feebly I curled into a ball and shivered.

"Get the fuck away from here, dawg. Get the fuck away before I fucking kill you." The man's tone was firm and unwavering, and I heard a whimper and footsteps heading into the distance. I closed my eyes, tears wettening my cheeks as I realized how close I'd been to death, and when my eyelids fluttered open, the man who'd saved me was crouched down, eyes wide.

His eyes were so beautiful; I could make them out in the dark. His body was fit and chiseled, and through the dimness and the radiance of the moon, I noticed there was a scribbled and well loved notepad tucked in his hoodie pocket. He toyed with his lower lip apprehensively as he gazed at me.

"Hey...you okay, miss?"

"Yes..." I said softly, pushing my hair out of my face with a cautious hand.

"Let me help you up." He held out a hand, and after a few, drawn seconds I unsurely took it. He gently guided me up and steadied me. "What did he do to you?"

I shook my head quickly, tears spilling over my cheeks, embaressed. Dropping my head, I stood.

"Hey, hey...it's okay. You're safe now." His hand crept under and wiped my tears away over my tear-stained cheeks. I sniffled childishly, and he chuckled deep in his throat. "You'll be alright now." His warm hand under my chin eased my head up until our eyes met and locked...just like they had the night before.

I gasped, and he took in breath sharply. "I know you..." he murmured under his breath. "You're that girl from the concert." And I don't know what overtook me in that split second, but I turned and ran, my bare feet slapping the pavement, tears pooling in my eyes for no reason, and he stood there, uncertain what to do. "Hey! Wait! Where you going?!" he yelled after me, but I couldn't stop.

I got home finally, and collapsed in my bed, streaky makeup and the residue of tears marking my face as I pictured him and only him.

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That's Chapter Two, guys! ;DDD Action packed, righhhtttt? I love this chapter, I think it was pretty damn good if I do say so myself(; A little unexpected, huh? Please vote and comment your thoughts and thank you so much!(: