17 Made Mistakes

⋆24༄ Yellow Deja Vu.

Hi there! I know it's been a long while but as most of you know, I've been correcting volume I for watty's and entered the competition! You can now read 17 Missed Calls again! Hopefully you'll like the way it's written now! To access the corrected version you have to remove and add the book back to your libraries! Thank you so much for your patience!

Now, big and MASSIVE thank you to tvesha04 who not only motivated me throughout this whole month but also read the whole volume anew and picked up all the mistakes I've made along the way! Without you my entry for watty's would have never happened! Thank you so much for your hard work and enormous effort! You are a real GEM, my love. I can't explain how grateful I am for what you did for me. Thank you xxx

Shall we?

__________

'The last time a guy tried to pick a fight with him, he was already knocked out before he could even rise a hand.' These words echoe in my head, making my mind travel back to the party at which I overheard this statement from one of the girls that were present there.

So Will has really become a bruiser, always looking for trouble, brawling on the streets. The wrath that consumes him from within must be really profound then if his usual way of dealing with stress — the rough sex — isn't enough to defuse the anger anymore.

These disturbing thoughts seem to indefinitely roam in my head, but in reality it all happens within seconds, and before anyone gets to stop me, I dart towards the men fighting.

"Davina, where are you going!?" Mason shouts, addled, his voice sounds slightly irritated. Nevertheless, he runs after me and quickly catches up. "What are you doing?" he demands, staring at me, bewildered. His hand grabs a hold of my wrist.

"It's Will, Mason," I gush, turning my head to look at the animated throng behind us. "I need to stop him before he kills that guy. Go tell Connor not to approach us. If he sees him, it'll only make things worse," I entreat, my skin itches in the need of rushing.

"That dude is your lover boy?" He gapes at me, thunderstruck.

"Yes," I respond impatiently. "If you want to go home, then go. I need to break the fight." I shoot him a determined look and having turned on my heel, I plough through the turbulent crowd.

I find myself in the middle of the bedlam. I stare at the stranger, lying on the pavement, his face is contused, blemished and covered in blood. Right beside his barely conscious presence there he kneels, the wretch himself, clobbering the poor individual.

Saliva thickens in my throat. I venture to bend down. I clasp my hands around Will's bicep in order to stop him, simultaneously wincing in fear. I'm afraid of getting hit by an accident.

"That's enough," I say in a cold tone, trying to pull him away from the stranger.

What really makes me angry is that all the people surrounding us don't even bother to break up the fight, nor do the nearby bouncers. I'm aware that conflicts among youngsters are habitual on their nights out but this kind of callousness is just unacceptable. The guy is sprawled on the ground, barely conscious.

To my amazement, Will halts his pounds and puts his arm down, exhaling heavily in exertion. He then turns his head behind his shoulder, peering at me, his black eyes suddenly shift to someone else.

"You okay?" Mason asks, his voice withholds true concern as he helps me up. He peeks over at Will, yet decides to remain silent.

Will, however, smiles in an ominous manner. I shudder at the sight of his black eyes turning glacial. The amusement on his face only keeps growing, so much actually that in the end he bites on his bottom lip in order to suppress a psychotic grin.