The Boy I Run From

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“Oh, hello! It’s Layla right?”

I curse under my breath and cast a longing glance at the glass doors that lead to my freedom before turning around. The same woman that was working the night I came in two weeks ago sits behind the same large mahogany desk with a friendly smile and I hesitantly walk towards her.

It’s not that I don’t want to speak to her –okay, maybe it is, but only because she saw the bruises on my face and I don’t particularly want to explain them or associate with anyone that knows even a little bit information about my past. It’s called a clean slate for a reason.

Regardless, I step up to the desk and offer a polite smile before nodding in confirmation.

“It’s so nice to see you out and about. Was starting to worry you had died up there or something.” She laughs lightly and I try to smile, but my lips just won’t cooperate.

Today I had finally decided that it’s high time I ventured out of my safe haven and find a job so I could actually afford said safe haven. The bruises on my face had finally healed enough to where I could cover them with make-up. The ugly brownish blooms on my neck, however, aren’t fading as fast as I would like and have to be covered by a scarf. But, I took the fading bruises as a sign to venture out onto the Cheshire streets.

“Are you liking it here?”

I can tell she desperately wants me to contribute to the conversation and despite my initial apprehension I find myself warming to the old woman. She is very dainty and her cerulean eyes are kind and I feel my full lips pulling up into a genuine smile.

The first one in a very long time.

“Yes, thank you,” she looks at me expectantly and I search my brain for anything else to say, “Did you know that Daniel Craig was born just a few streets down from here?”

The fact slips out of my mouth without permission and I wait for the woman to laugh or make fun of me like He used to do when I would spout a useless fact, but she doesn’t. No, this woman actually laughs in delight.

“Really? Oh, I used to have such a crush on him.” She smiles at me fondly, a curious glint in her eyes and I am about to reply with another factoid about Daniel Craig when something out of the corner of my eye causes me to freeze.

Lean body, wild chestnut curls, pink lips, emerald eyes –Harry. Harry skipping down the stairs with another boy with blonde hair and a booming laugh. They both come clambering towards us and their sudden appearance has my heart thudding in my chest.

I don’t want to be afraid of every man I come across, but their booming voices, fast approach, and large hands that shove into each other playfully has my mind twisting the situation. Panic crawls at my throat just as Harry looks up and locks eyes with me.

“Layla!” His raspy tone raises even higher and it makes me flinch harshly. His brows furrow instantly and his smile drops as he pauses on the last step from across the room.

“I-I have to go…” I turn back towards the woman and pause.

“Betsy, dear.” The woman –Betsy’s- eyes grow soft at seeing the panic in my own and she reaches a hand out, but my shaken up state has me recoiling again.

“I’m sorry, I h-have to g-go.”

The words are barely out of my mouth before I am turning around swiftly and racing out of the doors without a glance backwards. The harsh winds seem to shock the fear out of me and I walk aimlessly down the street until I am out of view form the apartment building. It’s only then that I inhale air into my lungs and my hands stop shaking slightly.

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