The Runaways: Industrial Revolution Story ✔

Chapter 5. James' POV

Another day of work had come. There were just a few more touches I had to add onto the side table that James made. I had almost finished painting it, and the side table looked great, though being a carpenter doesn't look easy. You have to also mend things made out of wood too, not just making things out of wood. Phillip was looking extremely cross today of what had happened yesterday. Me being disrespectful against him doesn't bother me, because he purely deserved it, though more things are deserving to him and not just back chatting back at him.

Just a few more seconds left to finish painting...and it's done! The side table was painted. It was wet, so where there was natural sun coming through the windows, I slowly and carefully dragged the side table near it, so it can dry quickly. My hands had tan paint marks everywhere, but I didn't mind. Sweat had completely covered throughout my body and I felt exhausted. With the wet paint still on my hands, I dragged my hair across from my forehead and pressed them down, because whenever my hair tied to go on my eyes, I'd push them away. I then walked back to my working station and decided what I could do? I had finished painting the side table, so what could I do? I decided to ask Phillip what I could do. So, I marched towards him quickly to ask him so. I hope it was something smaller to paint, because painting had got onto my nerves now. Constantly stroking your brush in different directions makes me dizzy somehow. I may be the one, but it's my inner self that feels that way.

Suddenly, before I could even let the words roll out from my tongue, something unexpected occurred and something terrible! Phillip suddenly turned his body towards mine and powerfully threw something sharp at me that felt painful and harsh. It hit me on my right shoulder. I looked slowly and shakily to see it was a shirt, but thick knife that struck me hard! Dark red blood started dripping quickly down onto the ground and I felt the pain and agony. I dropped down instantly onto the floor where the blood was situated and started weeping. Footsteps were heard everywhere around me, indicating that the rest of the workers were probably coming around to see what happened, and so that they could help me.

My head was tilted downwards and I felt weak around near the shoulder.

A crowed of people were around me looking shocked and worried. Noise filled the room and my heart was beating so quickly that it made me feel weak. Some gasped while some cupped their hands onto their mouths and had their eyes widened like an owl's. William suddenly ran towards me and held me against his body for support. He was panting, a lot and started weeping painfully. I had my face lifted up by him and my chin on his hand. He was gazing into my eyes and they were shiny, because of all the tears that could be viewed into his eyes. I think for a few moments he'll be speechless, because he's seen his best friend get hit and that he probably doesn't know what to say exactly.

Phillip was still standing there. Why was he though? Wouldn't he just want to run away because of what he did? Doesn't he want to run away from trouble? Those questions flooded my brain and I could pick an answer.

"JAMES! WHAT HAPPENED?" William asked me eagerly and carefully took out the knife that was stuck. It hurt a lot when he was taking the knife out. It hurt as if I was suffering in hell. He then successfully has taken out the knife and threw it away across the room, away from everyone else.

For a second I'm speechless. On first thoughts, I thought he'd know who threw that awfully thick knife into my shoulder, but no, on second thoughts, he doesn't know. Probably everyone else doesn't too.

"PHI-I-LLIP TH-R-REW THA-T-T KNIFE I-INTO MY SHO-O-UL-LDER!" I awfully stutter loudly, but sounded like a weakling too. William's eyes turn bloodshot red. They fill with depp anger and wrath. His head starts shaking as if was going to explode. His face lowers down a bit and his face also turns red like a runriped tomato.