Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 150968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
“Shit,” she swears softly under my breath, speaking to herself. I don’t think she even realizes that I’m here. “I almost got caught.”
I drop my head low, and my hood gives me the perfect cover. She can’t see my face like this. She brings her phone up, as if to give light to the alley. And that’s when she finally notices there’s another person present, other than her. Me.
She lets out a squeak in response. “Oh, double shit.”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I grunt out. The last thing I need is for a random girl to think I’m some kind of rapist, who is lying in wait in a dark alley for his next victim.
Yeah, hard no.
I’m a loser and worthless.
But I’ll die before I harm a woman.
“Uhm,” she drags out. After a long second of silence, she takes a tentative step forward. “I think you’re bleeding. Are you hurt?”
I clear my throat and straighten my back, but the small movement has my muscles protesting. “No.”
I try to hide my bruised, bleeding knuckles, but it’s too late. She’s already seen them. “You are hurt,” she whispers. “They look swollen and possibly broken.”
“Leave,” I bark out loudly. The last thing I want is pity from a random girl.
Miss Stranger makes a frightened sound in the back of her throat. She scrambles back, and then leaves. I chuckle humorlessly. Of course, she’ll leave.
I lick my dry, cracked lips. “This is not a place for you,” I whisper to her retreating form.
There’s no response, not that I expect one. She’s gone when I blink again.
My eyes close and I allow myself a brief repose. It’s late, and I should probably get back to the house. Amanda is gonna be pissed when she finds out I sneaked out. But maybe her daughter will cover for me again. Zoey, Amanda’s only biological daughter, thinks of the fosters as her strays. She has a thing for taking in injured animals and caring for them Apparently, the kids that her parents foster fit in the same category. Zoey is weird like that, but I think she’s alright.
I only think she’s alright because she’s covered for me anytime I sneak out to come here, to the fight pit. She says it’s a friend-with-benefits convenience. It suits us both. She needs a guy to practice kissing, and I need someone to hide my tracks.
But damn it, if Amanda catches me tonight — she'll probably have Diane move me to another foster home. I don’t blame her though. I’ve broken her only rule multiple times. But I guess it doesn’t matter if I’m living under Amanda’s roof or someone else’s. It’s the same shit.
I feel myself slipping out of consciousness again, but a soft touch on my hand has my whole body freezing on the spot. My muscles go rigid and I hold my breath.
“Oh wow,” she whispers, the familiar voice from earlier, “you’re really banged up. Did you get jumped or something?”
She’s back…
I open my eyes, and the first thing I see is silky blonde hair.
Her phone is on the ground beside us, and her flashlight is on. It gives me enough light to take in the girl kneeling in front of me. She’s young, maybe around my age.
Why is she back?
She grabs my hand in hers, and I flinch. My knuckles are bleeding, the skin torn apart. Miss Stranger takes a bunch of stuff out from the plastic bag she has, and that’s when I realize why she returned. She left earlier to go to the pharmacy, and now she’s back with a few first-aid items. I can’t bring myself to move as she uses the antiseptic wipes to clean my hands. It stings at first, but I barely even notice it.
Dazed and confused, my brain stutters. My body locked tight, against my own accord.
She’s touching me so naturally, as if she has every right to. And I can’t move.
My heartbeat echoes in my ears. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Maybe it’s the way she’s so gentle, cleaning my wounds with utmost care, that stops me from snapping at her for touching me so easily. Without my permission.
She has a round face, and her eyes are a darker shade of gray. There are tiny freckles on her nose, and there’s a mole above the right corner of her upper lip.
Why is she here? Why is she touching me? Why is she bandaging my wounded hands? Who is this girl? I have so many questions, but I can’t fucking speak. My tongue is heavy in my mouth and it feels like my throat has swelled up.
But when she reaches for my face, I flinch away and keep my head low. Miss Stranger sighs and goes back to my bruised hand.
“Out of all the moments I can rebel, this is when I decide to do it. Helping a random stranger in a dark alley. I’m practically begging to get killed at this point,” she mutters under her breath.