His Sour Lemon #2.1

Part 21: SPA Treatment

CHAPTER 21: SPA Treatment

December 19th, 2031.
11:18 am, Outskirts of New York City, America.
Fitzgerald Institute for Troubled Youth.

I stare at them. They were feared, collected and precise in the fact so many wouldn't approach them. I stare at one of the guards, the one who prefers inflicting pain on the younger children. I clench my jaw and step into the light, I was stared at, no one had seen me for a month, I wasn't surprised.

I stare straight at their table. His main guard, Christian, stood and stood in front of me. I stare blankly into his eyes. He was shirtless, biceps clenching as I tilt my head, he moves side on. I stare at Sampson, stepping forward with one hand out, "I'm in."

He studies me, "Offer expired three weeks ago."

"I was tortured."

"No, kid. You were held, needing a lesson learned. Two black eyes and bruises of bloodied cuts. You lost the deal, move along." He mutters, taking a bite of the garbage on his tray.

"What do you want?" I offer, immediately.

He stares in behind me, "Break that one's nose. He sniffs children's necks, break his if you like, but show your strength...or live on your own and die alone." He tells me, gesturing to Christian. A group around him.

I turn towards the guard I see grabbing a little girl's ponytail, "STILL FIDDLING I SEE!" He yells at her, shoving her to the ground, my body moves before my mind orders it too and ripping forward, before he can grab her and whip her, I snap his arm in two and stop his scream by ripping a fist forward and knocking his head to the side. It resonates and the little girl quiets as he drops to the floor, dead.

He hurt children differently.

And now...he's lost his life.

I tense with anticipation, but every guard ignores what they see and turns away, I grab the girl they call 'Fiddle' and cradle her in close, she sobs against me. I lift her up and move her towards a table she recognise. She squeezes my thumb, I stare at her, she just saw death and didn't flinch.

Because she's seen it all before.

*******

April 25th, 2042.
12:20 am, London, United Kingdom.
Advanced Business Engagements Academy (Private Business Institution), Sylvan Lakeshore.

A deep coldness seeped in my veins the more I swirled the whiskey in my hands and waited, she had an explanation maybe, the reason behind getting stood up is a course of rejection, according to the ever-so-helpful google.

Try to calm down.

Why am I antsy? Worried that something might have happened to her, is this another symptom?

It's not a disease, you idiot, this is what love is. Welcome, young padawan...it's time to begin.

Never assume anything.

Fuck, you're no help...the sound of a car pulling into her driveway has me snapping my dark eyes up and there she is, locking her car, looking rushed, she couldn't have been at the station that long, she cranks open the door, not realising I'm stewing in the dark, just seeing her made my fucking heat clench, "Edmund, I'm so sorry I'm late, traffic was..." She trails off.