THE VISION IS A PLACE | ✓ {complete}

Chapter 14 - wrist

    The first thing I saw was the wiry man with the goatee, winded on his hands and knees, scrambling to pick up the pieces of his shattered iPhone, as if he thought he'd somehow be able to put them back together. When he looked back up, he froze. His eyes were wide and terrified, but I couldn't see what he was looking at; not until I took a few more steps to see around the corner completely.

The guy in the hoodie had Pete pinned against the brick wall, his forearm across his throat. Pete's eyes were bulging and his face was turning bizarre shades of blotchy red as he clawed at the guy's arms, trying to take the pressure off so he could get a breath in.

The struggle was slowing down and a chilling stillness was taking its place. His body was straining to hold Pete in place, but his face was almost serene. He was looking firmly into his wide, pleading eyes. Power was meeting fear and it wasn't that he seemed to like it, but he seemed fascinated by it—motivated by his own curiosity of where the limit was.

I looked back to the friend. As the seconds passed, it became clear that he wasn't going to do anything. He was too paralyzed act. So, I dropped my stuff against the wall, next to another bag, and ran.

I ran fast and I didn't slow down, using the momentum to squeezed myself in between the two bodies. I pushed against the strangers chest, yelling at him to get off, but he pushed me away with one arm as if I was nothing, so I came back stronger, grabbing his arm with both my hands, ripping him away from the wall with all my strength.

"Fuck," he cursed vehemently as he stumbled back, shaking me off.

Pete fell away from the wall, too, and only then did I realize that he had been on his tip toes. He rubbed his throat, gasping to get air back inside his lungs through a coughing fit.

The friend unfroze. "You're out of control!" he screamed to the guy. "You could have killed him!" His voice came out an octave higher than before.

The guy just stood there, silent and cold, but I could almost see his heart pounding beneath his black sweater.

"Gary...you fucking...pussy," said Pete between grainy, laboured breaths, obviously pissed that a girl half his size was the one to split them up. He spat onto the pavement, close to his friend's feet.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," said the friend, already breaking into an awkward side run, not wanting to take his eyes off the hooded guy, just in case he made another move, although to me it was clear he was finished.

The bus's engine rumbled to life around the corner.

Pete looked straight at me for the first time. His face twisted in disgust. "Freaks," he muttered, still coughing. He then turned to the guy. "I know your name. I'll have you back in prison," he threatened, his finger jabbing the air as he spoke, trying his best not to look shaken, but he was failing.

"Pete, our bags!" his friend yelled.

The hooded guy said nothing and just kept staring him down with his steely, clenched jaw gaze. I could tell Pete wanted to scream at him until he got a reaction, but it was like he'd been muted. He went to yell something, but in the seconds he hesitated, something changed his mind and he took off, disappearing around the corner after his friend to get back on the bus.

It appeared they never did get their coffees.

Once we were alone, the guy crouched down and dropped his head in his hands, pushing his hood off to run his fingers over his hair, swearing silently to himself, in what looked like a quite remorse. I felt like I was intruding on a private moment but I couldn't look away.