"Why do you care if I'm mad or not?" It was the only thing I cared about knowing at this point.
"You're smart King. You figure it out."
Ace Carter was bad news and so were his friends. Luckily, I stayed away from him, his friends and all their dram...
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No one said or did anything. Charlie stood there with a bored, expectant look on his face, waiting for Ace to say something to him. I sat on the floor with a hand holding my left cheek, trying to block my pain from the boy at the door. And Ace held his stance outside, staring at me with his jaw slack and lips parted.
It was like a game of who would break first. I almost wanted to get up and run to my bedroom but who knows what Ace would think then.
"What do you want kid?" Charlie asked Ace with a sigh.
Ace's eyes flicked up to Charlie's for a split second but then went back to me. Or more likely, my cheek. "What happened to you?" He whispered to me.
I barely picked up on it, but I heard something in his voice that made me shiver. I don't think anyone has been so scared for me before.
When I didn't answer, Charlie growled, "she's fine. Goodbye." And then he tried to close the front door.
Ace wouldn't let him. He put his arm out, stopping the door. I could see his muscles tensing, his biceps straining with effort to keep it open. In the end, Ace was stronger than Charlie and he burst through the door.
He made his way over to me quickly and knelt down. I backed up a little, scared Charlie would do something to him since he was helping me. Ace slid his thumb across my bruised cheek and I winced. His eyes hardened.
Charlie had obviously decided the scene before him wasn't worth his time because he started walking toward his room. But Ace stood, calmly walked over to him, stopping him, and punched him in the face.
He went down and was out cold. I screamed and he looked back over to me, shaking out his hand. How the hell did he do that?
He went back to me and held his hands out. I took them and he pulled me up and took me to my room. "Pack your things."
"Why?" I asked him, my voice still shaky.
He walked to my closet and opened it, searching for something. A few seconds later, he pulled out a backpack and threw it to me. "You're staying at my house."
"But why?" I asked, starting at the bag like it was a foreign object.
He stepped closer to me until my face was in his hands. "Mel, did your father hurt you?"
I stared at him and the scared expression he wore and tears welled up in my eyes. I nodded. He cursed and pulled me into his chest, holding me.
I let him squeeze the life out of me. It was almost as if he needed it more than me, to make sure I was there and okay. "He's never going to hurt you again sweetheart, I promise."
And if this hadn't been happening my whole life, I would have believed him. But it had, so I didn't. I just held onto him tighter, burying my face into his chest. He smelled good, I realized. He wore cologne but it wasn't too much.
