Pretty Boy [bxb] | ✔️

Chapter thirty-four: Every step of the way

Clutching my hand against my chest, I looked up at him in absolute shock and horror. All he did was glare down at me until I saw someone grab both his wrists and tug them behind his back. Someone was handcuffing him. I don't know how long I was sat on the floor, staring up at him. I had seemed to have frozen in my spot.

A police car was parked not too far down the street, and the police officers sat inside had witnessed the entire thing. I watched him as he got pulled away by a policeman and then I felt hands gently take ahold of arm and around my waist, tugging me up from the floor. I could see her say something, but I couldn't seem to make out what she was saying. All I could hear at that moment was a ringing sound.

The policewoman who helped me up let go of my waist and muttered something into her walkie talkie.

"Oh my, is everything alright?" An older woman had asked, her eyes wide as she looked at me. I could feel blood running from my nose and onto my lip. It tasted disgustingly metallic, but I was still too frozen up to wipe it away.

"Everything is being taken care of, ma'am," the policewoman replied. "Where do you live, darling?" She asked me. I tried to answer, but no words would exit my mouth. I didn't even know if I could remember my address.

"Aren't you going to do something about him? I mean, he's bleeding and looks awfully distressed," the old woman continued, talking like I wasn't there. She looked at the officer as though she expected her to fix whatever injuries I had there and then.

"As I said, everything is being taken care of. You can continue with your day, please." The officer said before guiding me away.

She pulled out a packet of tissues from her pocket and handed them to me. I appeared to have snapped out of my frozen state, yet when I tried to say thank you, I still found myself unable to speak.

"Shit, Dave's got the car," she muttered. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Matthew."

"And your surname?"

"Jenkins."

"Do you live near here, Matthew? I need to ask you some questions, and it would be much easier to do it at your house. If not, I'll need to call a parent or guardian to pick you up, and I will swing by your house or wherever you're staying as soon as possible."

I nod gingerly, finally able to murmur out the street I lived on to her. As we were only about two minutes away from my house, she had no problem with walking me to my house. As soon as we reached my house, I found that I hadn't taken my keys out with me so, after shakily sucking in a deep breath, I pressed the doorbell.

That's where we are now.

The door swings open and the first thing that comes out of my dad's mouth is, "Oh bloody Hell, don't tell me you got into trouble with the police! You only went out to get milk!"

"Mr Jenkins, your son— is that your dad?" I nod, "Your son is in no trouble. He's been the victim in this case so if it's alright with you, could I come in and ask a couple of questions?" She asks. My dad opens the door wider and gestures for us to come in.

He takes the lead and guides us into the living room where I take a seat on the sofa. The policewoman sits down on the opposite chair and pulls out a pen and notepad from her pocket, flipping it open. She jots something down before looking up at me with a smile.