The Bar

17. Good Meets Evil

Clara slept in Flints bed, wearing a pair of his boxers and a tshirt. He held her close to him, feeling at peace and extemely satisfied.
His alarm woke them up, he turned over and swiped a finger over his phone's screen then returned to the girl in his arms.
He nuzzled against her hair, breathing in her scent. The orange smell was fading because she had used his shampoo.

"We need to go shopping," he mindlessly says.

"For what?" Clara replies groggily.

"You don't smell like oranges anymore," he mumbles, hating himself for telling her everything on his mind. She giggles through her tired state.

"I just need to get orange smelling shampoo...you're such a dork."

"You need clothes, you can't wear my boxers all the time."
She sighs, knowing sooner or later she would have to go back to the terrible place and get her things.

"I'll run by my parents house, get my clothes and some other things," she says reluctantly and fearfully.
He can hear the worry in his voice.

"I don't want you going back there if thats where you got those scars, Clara," he says turning on his back.
She sits up and moves her legs off of the bed.

"Its sunday, they'll be at church and then they'll have lunch with some friends. If I go now, I can get my things before they come back," she says standing up.

"I'm coming with you." He sits up, his heart beating faster with worry as he sees the expression on her face.

"Fine, but you're waiting in the car."
She knows that no matter how much she argued he would follow her anyhow and she needed a ride anyway.

They got dressed, Clara wore her Port t-shirt and jeans. Flint put on a tight black t-shirt and jeans, and a pair of combat boots. He tied the top half of his hair back like always and called it good.

"We should go grocery shopping while we're out. Don't want you starving here," he says moving down the staircase with her behind him. He grabs his keys, wallet then stops for a moment.

"Does your dad own a gun?" He asks suddenly.

"No, their super conservative bible thumpers, however my dad says that guns only ask for more violence," she explains.

"Yet he did that to you?" He says pointing at her back.

"No..." she lies. He raises an eyebrow and clenches his teeth, knowing she is lying.

"You're not going to do anything drastic...right?" She asks worriedly.

"Not if you don't want me to. If he tries something, I will put you're safety over his though," Flint says through his teeth.
"He did hurt you though. He did that? Don't lie to me."

She nods reluctantly. He moves his fingers, trying hard not to turn them into fists. Instead of boiling with anger and thinking of hurting the man who scared her and put her in danger, Flint grabs the girl and pulls her to him. He kisses her forehead and runs a hand through her soft golden mane. Calmer now, he moves to the front door, ready to beat the asshole if he were to try anything.

____________________

The house seemed dimer, full of terror now. Clara saw that there were no cars in the driveway and told Flint to park in front. She told him to stay in the car but he refused, worried that someone may be inside.

She used her key and called out for her mom and dad, but there was no answer. She told Flint to watch the windows and to call her if anyone drove by. She hurried up the stairs and pulled out an empty backpack and empty old duffel bags.