Page 16

A fter the festival, I went to the town library.

Books fascinate me—mostly romance. Jason thought it was silly and juvenile.

He gave me literature. Poetry. And while those are beautiful writings, my desire always lingered with romance.

The love the characters have for each other.

The emotion is so intense and passionate.

My heart aches with envy while reading about what makes them tic with lust because what a love to experience—one I never had.

Flipping through, not being able to stop because this stuff is too good and addicting, I wish I could submerge myself in the pages.

It’s after nine, just getting dark, and Lana said she’d be home later. Disappointment slams into me when the driveway is empty. I keep telling myself I don’t have a crush on my new neighbor, but the more I try to convince myself, the less I believe it.

There’s a chill in the air, the cold running down my spine. I spin around on the steps to Lana’s and peer out into the darkness. Is it Fred? This time, I’m hoping it’s that furry little guy.

My heart thumps as I imagine Jason stepping out of the shadows, waiting to make his move. But relief washes over me when nothing is there. Only my mind playing tricks on me.

While trying to unlock the door, I hear a sound from behind, making me spin back around. Someone tall is there, threatening me with their menacing stance. As the figure moves closer, my eyes want to do a double take.

Mark?

A small part of me is relieved it’s not Jason, but my body goes rigid from the intense glare he’s strangling me with. His eyes are cold, dark, and empty. This isn’t the fake friendly, playful Mark I met—this Mark is different.

“Hello, Sora,” he slurs my name with disgust rolling off his tongue.

He’s drunk. It’s then I notice the liquor bottle gripped at his side.

“What are you doing here?”

Even if Lana is home and he came to see her, I wouldn’t let that happen. He is obviously out of his damn mind.

He snarls, approaching closer, just below the first step. “It’s your fault.” He accusingly points at me, then takes a swig of alcohol, the liquid swishing inside the glass.

“What’s my fault?” My voice trembles.

What is he getting at? As we exchange words, I try to get the key inside the lock behind my back, but it feels like an impossible task right now.

“It’s your fault Lana dumped me. We were fine until her slutty little friend showed up,” he spits my way.

My head jerks back. That’s the impression I give off. Is it inked on me like a bad tattoo? I shake off my moment of self-pity. “You can’t blame me for your actions.”

“I was being nice!” He lashes out, grabbing the side of his hair with his free hand. “How was I supposed to know you’d go running and crying to Lana!” The glass bottle he holds goes flying to the ground, shattering.

Okay. Time to switch tactics because this isn’t working. My eyes dart around for any signs of other life, but it’s just me and him. I’m not surprised, considering we don’t have neighbors for at least a mile.

I lower my voice to an understanding tone. “Look. I know you must be hurting. I get it. Break ups suck, but this isn’t how you’re going to get her back, Mark.”

He snorts. “Get her back? Please. That prude bitch has her head so far up her ass.”

I grind my teeth to hold back from lashing out at him. Talking about Lana that way makes my blood boil but adding fuel to the fire wouldn’t be smart. “Let’s call it a night. Go home and sleep it off and then we can talk about things tomorrow,” I lie.

“I don’t need to sleep it off.” He steps forward; teeth bared. “What I need is to blow off some steam and you know what? You’re perfect for it.”

My stomach sinks to the floor as I try desperately to get this fucking door unlocked, but defeat rolls through me as the keys drop.

Shit.

I’m trapped with nowhere to go except the path he’s blocking. “Don’t come near me,” I demand under a shaky breath.

He reaches out, wrapping an icy hand around my wrist.

“Let me go!” I jerk my arm away and throw a foot at his shin.

“Fuck!” he groans. “You bitch.” He stumbles, buying me time.

My hands tremble as I pick up the key, making it impossible to unlock this door.

Dammit.

A burning pain rips through my scalp as Mark hauls me backward, gripping a fist full of my hair. I trip, falling the two steps, landing flat on my back after skidding an ich or two. Agony shoots up, passing through my neck straight to my head. Stars cloud my vision.

He towers over me. “That wasn’t very nice now, was it?”

A hard pull throws me from the driveway, my back hitting the duplex.

“I’ll teach you a fucking lesson.”

I’m still disoriented from the fall. Pain and dizziness dance in my eyes.

He spins me around, my cheek digging into the house. He’s strong—too strong for me. “Maybe I’ll rough you up a bit.” His slimy hands run up the hem of my dress and nausea slams into me, swirling up like poison.

I buck my body back, thrashing, twisting, fighting like hell to get out of his hold. “Get off of me you sick bastard!” I yell through the pain.

“This will teach you to mind your goddamn business,” he snarls, dripping venom, and my body deflates.

No. Fight. Fucking fight, Sora.

I throw my head back, connecting it with his nose. The crunch clearly confirms the break.

Mark lets out a deep scream, holding a hand to his face.

This is it.

I make a run for it, but he grabs my ankle, sending me flying into the dirt, tiny, pebbled rocks pressing into my palms.

I roll my body so I’m facing the sky, but he straddles over me, both of his thighs on either side. He punches the ground beside my face, and I wince every time his fist lands.

This man is insane.

I cover my face with my forearm just in case he decides to use it as his punching bag next. A scream escapes me, but he cups my mouth, his hand smelling like left over liquor.

A fearful tear runs down my cheek. This is not how I’m going to be defeated. Not after everything. I'll be damned. But what can I do?

Mark continues to punch the ground in a crazy rage as if he’s pretending it’s me. The insult to the ground beside me, is twistingly close.

But his body, once barricading mine, is gone. Just like that. No more raging fits. No more heavy weight locking me into place.

It takes a moment for me to regain my composure, and when I lift myself onto my hands, I see Mark being imprisoned by Logan. The way his biceps are protruding in strength clearly shows the deadly lock he has on Mark’s throat.

He’ll kill him.

Mark claws at Logan’s forearm, trying to break free, but it’s no use. Logan isn’t letting go unless you sever off his arm.

Mark turns an interesting shade of blue, but before he loses consciousness, Logan drops my attacker to the ground. He only lets him lay there for a split second, before hauling him back up with his shirt, then landing a blow to his jaw.

My knees dig into the flower bed as I sit there, mouth open, like an out-of-body experience.

Blood is already spewing from Mark's face, and I’d like to believe I helped with that. But the way Logan is tearing through him, I’d say it’s all him.

He lifts him with the collar of his shirt again, this time bringing Mark inches from his enraged face. “Come back here again, and I’ll make you regret ever laying your hands on her. Stay away from Lana. And stay the hell away from Sora.”

My body shivers at his voice. I’ve never heard Logan speak in such a threatening and frightening tone. He’s standing up for me, protecting my honor, and I want to cry for being appreciated enough to be defended.

Logan drops Mark’s beaten body on the hard driveway. Without words, Mark practically scurries away. Not daring to look back.

Logan turns toward me, His chest rising and falling like a raging bull. I still haven’t moved—still seeking comfort in the dirt. Whether it’s out of shock or humiliation, I’m not sure.

Logan walks over, beginning to reach for me.

I raise a hand for him to stop. “Give me a minute, will you?” I politely ask, needing a moment to process what the hell just happened.

With my hands fisting the dirt and my knees digging into it, I cry. The adrenaline finally wears off, and I cry.

Motherfucker.

I only crave a normal life. To start over. Not this. Someone needs to throw me a fucking bone.

One tear falls, wetting a dot of soil beneath me. Then another and another.

Before I know it, I’m being lifted into a set of solid, powerful arms as my head lazily flops to Logan’s chest.

“What are you doing?” I ask, seeking solace from his embrace, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“You had your minute,” he says as he carries me, not to my place, but over to his.

He gets us both through the door after unlocking it, bringing me over to his sofa. When he gently sets me down and places a hand to my knee, my body reacts like it never has before, causing me to shiver.

“I’ll be right back.” He softly squeezes the same knee and goes upstairs.

Out of curiosity, I scan around his home.

It’s the same layout as Lana’s. The kitchen and the living room are both openly connected.

Simple décor of what a bachelor would have, but less frat boy.

It feels… cozier than I’d have guessed. Logan is a reserved, keep to himself kind of man. So, I thought it’d be a lot colder.

He comes back, setting down a small bucket with soapy water, a washcloth, and bandages.

Oh my God. He’s taking care of me. My eyes dart to his chiseled jaw that hasn’t stopped clenching since he tore Mark off me.

I move in the slightest and wince, Logan catching sight of it.

There goes that jaw again.

He grabs a chair, dragging it in front of me, and sits down. When he gently lifts my right leg onto his lap, I flinch.

He finally looks at me. “Sorry. Is this all right?” he asks, his eyes flashing with concern.