Page 9 of Mr. Edwards
I’m almost at my destination when I hear someone call out, “Hey!”Shit. I wasn’t quick enough, so I pick up the pace. “Hey, you, get back here.”
The alleyway smells like a combination of rotten food and stale urine, but I eye the graffiti-covered dumpster further down. If I can just make it there, I can hide inside. My fingers latch onto the folded waistband of my sweats when I feel them slip over my narrow hips, furiously pumping my free arm to help me along.
I’m almost there.
The stench of the dumpster is bad, but it still makes my empty stomach growl. Maybe there’s some discarded food inside? If I’m lucky enough, I may even get a feed while I hide out until the coast is clear. A hungry child is not a fussy one, and it wouldn’t be the first time I ate something questionable. Starvation will do that to you, it takes away your pride and dignity. A person’s will to survive can make you do unspeakable things.
The footsteps behind me are getting nearer and when I quickly glance over my shoulder, I see the dark outline of a huge giant approaching. I will my legs to move faster. It’s not the first time I’ve had to flee for my life, but where I’m heading is dark and deserted. Nobody knows that I’m down here. If this guy catches me, there’s no telling what he will do.
“Stop!” the voice calls out again, but I don’t even consider it. I may not be the brightest kid, but I’m street-smart.
As I bypass the dumpster, the unthinkable happens. The loose sole of my shoe folds under, making me lose my balance and I stumble forward. I’m running so fast thatthere’s no way I can right myself as I go tumbling down to the rough concrete below.
I whimper as I roll to my side, clutching my injured left knee. That, and the palms of my hands took the brunt of the fall. The rough surface being unrelenting on my skin. I can feel the damp fabric of my sweats and I know that I’m bleeding.
I bite my bottom lip to tamper down the cry of pain that threatens to escape. I’ve experienced a lot worse in my short life, and as Roxy often tells me,nobody likes a crybaby. Peeping over my shoulder, I see the guy nearby and my wounds are soon forgotten as my fight-or-flight mode kicks back in. My life may be a constant nightmare, but the thought of being chopped up into itty-bitty pieces by some random psychopath is far worse.
I don’t stand a chance against this angry man giant, so I push myself off the ground, disregarding the burning, throbbing pain in my hands as I start to hobble away. My broken shoe gets left behind, and the small, loose rocks below dig into the base of my barefoot, but I ignore the discomfort.
I have a bigger problem.
It’s no use though; it only takes him a few steps to catch me, his arms snaking around my middle as he effortlessly lifts me off my feet.
“I’ve got you,” he says.
I thrash around in his arms as he turns and starts making his way back down the alley. I may be scrappy, but I’m not going to go down easy.
I don’t know where he’s taking me; does he have a car waiting nearby? Both my arms are pinned to my sides, so I start kicking my legs. My erratically beating heart thumps against my rib cage as my feet lay blow after blow against his thick, muscular thighs thatresemble tree trunks, but it doesn’t deter him in the slightest.
“Let me go,” I scream, slamming my head back into his chest.
His body stalls as soon as the words leave my mouth, tensing behind me. “Shit,” he mumbles as he lowers me back to my feet, spinning me around to face him. “You’re a girl?”
Despite the fear that’s coursing through my body, my hands land on my hips as my head tilts back so I can see his face. “No shit.”
His dark brown eyes narrow and his brow pinches together as he stares down at me. It’s only then that I realize my captor is in fact the nice-looking bouncer that was manning the front door of the club when I arrived.
Oh boy, I’m in trouble now.
Reaching for the baseball cap I’m wearing, he yanks it off my head causing my long blonde hair to flop down around my face.
“Give that back,” I screech.
I was only three years old when my dad went to prison so that hat is my greatest treasure. The bouncer guy holds it high in the air when I lunge for it and I have to resist the urge to kick him in the shins. I roll my bottom lip between my teeth to mask the quiver as I blink my eyes trying to will back my tears. Crying only makes Roxy angrier.
His features instantly soften and relief floods through me when he hands me the cap.
Stepping back, he runs his fingers through his dark hair as his eyes scan over my face. “You’re just a damn kid.”
“I’m ten and a half,” I snap, standing taller. “Two whole hands and a bit.” After shoving the hat back onmy head, I hold my ten fingers out in front of me, wiggling them to prove my point.That’s a lot of fingers, mister.
I notice his lip twitch slightly as he glances down at the watch on his wrist. “It’s after two in the morning, where the hell are your parents?”
Using my thumb, I point over my shoulder toward the entry to the club.
“Your parents are inside?”
“My mom is, I think. She works here.”
