LAST MAN STANDING [COMPLETED]

Chapter Fourteen

I jerked, my eyes peeling open. The strong hand held my chest. Deep breaths leaving my trembling lips. “Breath, it’s alright,” her voice said softly gently pushing me back on the huge pillow behind me.

I realized I was on a king-size bed, half naked and my hands and torso newly bandaged. “Are they dead?” I asked, guilt already pilled in my eyes.

“You need to rest,” she said, moving her hand off my chest.

Her reaction confirming it hadn’t been a nightmare but reality. “You can’t tell anyone about any of this,” she said once again.

Those words, they were the words my uncle had said to me, when he had come to get me from the police station. Asking me to lie, to lie about their death.

 “Hy,” invading in my dark thoughts.

I tiredly lifted my bloodshot eyes onto hers. I quickly noticed her lower lip was broken, her curly hair covering the rest of her face.  “Promise me,”

I moved my hand onto her face. She quickly held my hand, stopping me from touching her face. “H…”

 “I won’t let anyone know of it,” I said, my eyes still on her.

The killing, the violence wasn’t something I condemned but I wasn’t going to sell her out, not after she had killed to save my life. “Thank you,” she said letting go of my hand and got up from the edge of the bed.

“You aren’t leaving me all by myself?” I asked.

“You are tired, rest,” she said before walking toward the exit.

I watched her leave my room, wearing an oversize black T-shirt and small shorts under it showing her strong toned legs. She was barefoot. She pulled the door open and walked out, leaving me all by myself in the huge room.

 I shifted my eyes onto the ceiling as a sigh left my lips. I slowly helped myself sit upright. Moonlight crept from the huge window which was a few distance from me.

My feet moved onto the warm floor lined with dark carpet. Both my hands held on the bed, staring at the creeping light. My mind taking me back to my past again.

The two thirteen-year-old boys beating the hell out of me in the rainy basketball court. “This aren’t home you sob!” the first one had yelled, spitting phlegm on my hair.

“Stop it!” I had yelled while the second boy held my arms tightly stopping me from moving.

“You are here because no one likes you just like the rest of us!”

“Shut up! That isn’t true!” I had yelled breaking lose from the grip of the second boy, punching his nose.

“Aah!” he had cried, holding his bleeding nose.

“It’s true bastard!” the first boy had yelled, heading to me, ready to run his fist on me.

 “LIER!” I had yelled, spearing him onto the muddy ground.

Cheers and yells from the other children around filling my ears.  My blood had boiled, revenge inside me. It wasn’t true! My fist had dug on his face, blood had splashed on my white school shirt and grey blazer. He had screamed as the second boy had pulled me off his friend by my bag pack before kicking my head. My world had turned black instantly.

The roaring of the thunder brought me back to the real world. I slowly got on my feet. Why were all these memories returning now? I had worked hard burying them. I had let go of the anger. I needed to get out of here.