A Proscriptive Relationship

A Proscriptive Relationship: o9

Mr. Heywood laughed loudly, the sound echoing slightly. “He couldn’t beat me up in his dreams.”

My hands tightened on the tree bark. What was Mr. Heywood doing? Did he want to be killed? I stared at the four men, unable to pull my gaze away. How could Mr. Heywood stay so calm when the other three men were putting up such threatening fronts?

“I wouldn’t be so cocky,” the other gangster warned, cracking his knuckles threateningly. “We dragged you out here for a reason, you know.”

“If it was to assault me, I know,” Mr. Heywood responded calmly. “That’s why I came— because I was sure I could handle Twinkies like you.”

I snorted. Had he really just used the word Twinkies as an insult? The smile disappeared from my mouth when one of the gangsters swung towards Mr. Heywood without warning. Mr. Heywood took a step back, avoiding it was ease. A breath of relief left my lips.

The blonde scowled. “What did I say about being cocky?”

“I don’t remember,” Mr. Heywood responded mockingly, a fake frown on his face. “I’m sorry.”

Suddenly I felt a hand over my mouth. My eyes almost bulged out of their sockets and I took a sharp inhale of breath through my nose, my heart rate increasing significantly. I struggled in the grasp of whoever had me as an arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer to my captor. By the feeling of the chest it was either a very flat and bulky female, or a male. I struggled harder, terror filling my veins.

“What do we have here?” a husky voice whispered in my ear. “A spectator?”

I froze up, my breath shaky. Was this one of the gangsters as well? I looked over my shoulder slightly, recognizing the brunette man from before— the one who had been with Mr. Heywood at first, then went off his own way. I tried to say something, but his strong hand muffled my words. The man yanked me away from the tree. My fingernails scraped against the bark, getting it stuck between the nail and skin as I tried to keep my grasp on the tree. I winced in pain.

“It would really be bad if I let you loose and you told someone about what was going on here,” the thug commented, resting his chin on my shoulder. “We wouldn’t want that.”

I tried to bite his hand, but only managed to lick it. I made a face as he chuckled. “How did you know I enjoyed that kind of thing?”

I almost gagged. His hand moved to my stomach and my muscles tightened as he rubbed it gently. “You have such a flat stomach. And you’re pretty good looking too,” the thug commented in a thoughtful voice. “I bet we could have some fun with you.”

That’s when I snapped. I bought my head back as hard as I could, smashing it into his. He groaned in pain and I quickly shoved my legs against the ground, throwing us both off balance. The thug toppled over backwards and I fell with him. To save himself from hitting the ground full force, he let go of me, and I quickly rolled to the side and was on my feet in a matter of seconds. Thank god for adrenaline.

The thug flung out his arm, in aim for my feet, but I quickly dodged, stepping out from behind the tree. I made to run through the woods and back to the fair, but my eyes roamed to the clearing and I gasped. The bald man was creeping up behind Mr. Heywood, a bat raised high in his hand. The other two men were holding onto Mr. Heywood’s arms, keeping him faced away from the man with the baseball bat.

“Mr. Heywood!” I screamed, throwing all caution to the wind.

All four men in the clearing turned to me. My eyes met Mr. Heywood’s. He stared at me, half in horror and half in shock. The bald man moved in again.