Movement

Chapter Eleven.

It was on a Saturday that Brady saw him, and to make matters even worse, she was with Harry.

They'd decided on that Saturday morning that they'd grab some ice cream from her local grocery store and watch a horror movie at her place. Things were going great- they were holding hands on their walk and giggling like school children at everything and neither one of them could keep a cheesy smile off of their faces.

Harry told her he was going to run and grab some candy from the other aisle whilst she grabbed the ice cream, and so, they parted ways. She was standing in front of the freezer with the door open when she heard footsteps at the end of the aisle, and like any other naturally paranoid person, her eyebrows pinched together. She shut the door and stepped back, turning her head to the side to take a peek at whoever it was, and then her veins ran ice cold.

He was just as she had remembered from years ago- tall, slender, with caramel skin and a mop of shiny, black hair on the top of his head. He'd lost a little bit of weight since their last encounter but she could recognize that evil and malicious aura of energy that surrounded him in even the most crowded of spaces.

The tub of ice cream in her hand dropped to the floor with a thud as her body started shaking. She wasn't scared- no, definitely not- she'd gotten over her fear of him a while back and now that fear had been replaced with nothing but pure, fiery fu.cking rage that sat in her stomach every day of her fu.cking life.

Brady had sat with this rage for four years now since it had happened. It was partially the reason she was so closed off- the memories of that one night swarmed her messy head every single day of her life. She could be walking down the street, minding her own business, and a random pedestrian could walk by wearing the same cologne he wore and a few minutes later she'd be vomiting in a trash can. She could be fu.cking a random person she'd met at the bar and they could scratch behind her ear, like he did to her that one night, and in the next moment she would be left trembling and naked on her bed, hyperventilating and staring at the ceiling.

He stole a piece of her that night, and her biggest regret was never having the courage to fight back- to bash him over the head with a heavy object, to kick him in the groin, to do something- anything- to get him off of her or to make him feel even a fraction of the pain that he left her with.

Christian's head lifted up as the tub of ice cream fell to the floor and he turned his gaze on her- his eyes widening and his jaw becoming slack. All at once, though, he recovered and a smile stretched across his face. It mocked Brady's psyche and she felt the blood rush to her face as that familiar tremble found its way back into her hands. She felt her whole body shake as he walked over to her, as calm and cool as ever.

"Brady Allen!" He mused, his arms opening for a hug, "God, I haven't seen you in-"

"Four years," she replied monotonously, swallowing back the bile she felt rising in her throat. He stopped in front of her and dropped his arms once he realized she wasn't going to hug him. A facetious pout appeared on his face, and he condescendingly slumped his shoulders.

"No hard feelings, right? How have you been?"

She stared up at him, unable to respond to him with words, but her mind was screaming at her: Punch him. Kick him. Make him bleed, make him cry.

Her hands clenched subconsciously, nails digging into her palms as her trembling increased. She could feel the heat of her cheeks prickling her skin as the pace of her breathing rapidly increased. jaw staying clenched shut and breaths coming out in quick puffs out of her nostrils.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when a hand landed on her shoulder and all at once she was snapped out of her trance as she turned to look up at Harry. A loud breath escaped her lips as she shuffled closer to him in an attempt to absorb the comfort she felt from him. He frowned and glanced at Christian.