The Goth and His Psycho.

The Goth and His Psycho: [Chapter Twenty Four]

  The sky was starting to darken, and Alex couldn't help but hope they would stop soon. Whatever was going to happen, Alex didn't want to be stuck in the dark with Bree lurking about in the shadows. At this stage in their relationship he was pretty much comfortable with the fact that she would never hurt him; but perhaps if they rattled her up into a frenzy... would she be able to tell the difference between friend and foe in that situation? 

  Alex felt guilt lance through his chest when he realised he didn't actually know the answer. 

  Dylan led the group at a leisurely pace, safe in the knowledge he had Alex and could do whatever he wanted. After about ten minutes of the two boys holding both his arms they shoved him ahead of them; considering Alex had made no move to struggle. What was the point? He reflected, Bree would appear whenever they started to hurt him. 

  Or so he hoped.

  He felt weak relying on her, knowing there was no way of him fighting back against these four drunken, large boys. But then if he couldn't, what hope did little Bree have? Guilt flushed through him again; she'd have hit him if she could hear his thoughts. It wasn't always about the body, Alex knew. He'd suffered at Bree's hands, had been pinned beneath her at her mercy and felt the sting of her blows. But despite that he'd also felt her soft body beneath his, memorised the soft curves of her pale skin as they'd held each other close.

  He knew that her size was a deceptive thing, beneath that pale layering of flesh was muscle, not a lot, but enough. Even so, she probably wouldn't have been able to beat Dylan at an arm wrestling match, but it gave her enough edge to fight him. Her ability to fight went against physics, she'd killed and beaten men twice her size and weight, and Alex knew it had something to do with the rage in her chest, that fire that could singe anyone who wandered too near. 

  It wasn't just the fire, that darkness in her heart that scared him, she'd spent her life fighting people bigger than her, she knew how to crush them, how to bring them to their knees ruthlessly and quickly, and she even knew how to kill them. Alex would never wish for Bree to do that to the boys now holding him hostage, but if worst came to worst, he was glad she wasn't defenceless against them. 

  They must have walked for about half an hour, the boys surrounding him becoming more clumsy and more drunk as they sipped from beers, all five of them started to sing, which only made it all the more easy for Bree to follow, or so Alex assumed.

  He looked for her as he walked in the middle of the group, two behind him and two in front with Dylan leading. He hoped he looked as if he was just glancing around worriedly, but really he was looking for a flash of pale flesh or green eyes, hoping despite the terrible night to come that she would stay home, would not put herself in danger at all. He guessed that meant he really did love her; knowing he would suffer terribly, knowing she could stop that, but not wanting her to help anyway.

  They stopped after around an hour of walking, Alex had already gathered they'd been heading towards something; Dylan had been walking with purpose. They stopped suddenly when they arrived in a little clearing, the ground made of hard, dry mud and in the middle of this clearing stood a campfire, large pieces of wood already stacked into a messy teepee shape, large logs acting as seats were set out around this campfire; clearly a familiar sight for popular teens.

  Alex could see the remnants of other parties - half buried beer cans, a few broken bottles of various alcoholic beverages, food packets, one or two snapped CD's, Alex could even see a few pairs of underwear - boys and girls. 

  "Light it up, Carl" Dylan nodded to the mean boy (the one who'd implied he was going to rape Alex's mum). Carl, his broad shoulders flexing with anticipation, brought out a packet of matches from his pocket and took a bottle of neat vodka out of the bag he'd been carrying on his back. He took a long swig of the alcohol before dousing the dry wood with it, the sudden rip of the match catching alight almost made Alex wince, and Carl flicked it into the wood, and it caught almost instantly.