Part 35 (1/2)
”Who?” I ask.
”The guy you're all over tonight,” says the other from behind me. ”We saw you two in the pub.”
”A friend. And I'm not all over him!”
My heart bangs and I turn around. The other girl scowls at me. I'm trapped between them, if I sidestep she will too. These girls are Ruby Riot fans, and not a fan of me. I need to move. I glance at the nearby pavement, where a group of men walk along, talking loudly.
”Excuse me,” I say and make to walk past. The blue-haired girl places a hand on my chest. I push her arm to one side. ”Don't touch me.”
She keeps hold of my arm, nails digging into my wrist. ”Are you cheating on Jax?”
”Told you she didn't deserve him!” remarks the other, voice rising in pitch.
What the f.u.c.k? ”Move!” I snap and step forward. A pain sears my scalp as the girl behind grabs my ponytail and yanks my hair backwards. I grab the ends twisting away from her. ”Get the h.e.l.l off me!”
Need to leave. Now. I could walk to the group heading along the nearby street. Go back to the pub. Don't show these girls how terrified I am.
”You little b.i.t.c.h!” snarls the other into my face. ”You have Jax Lewis in love with you and you screw somebody else?” Dilated pupils look back. My stomach flips. There's something extreme about their behaviour and now I know why - they're high. Unpredictable.
”I'm not and he isn't!” I protest.
”We saw you! We're gonna tell him!”
Oh, wow. ”Really? You have a direct line to Jax?”
”We have photos!” The red-haired girl drops my hair and holds her phone in my face. I squint at the picture of me chatting to Julian in the pub.
”Fine. Tell him. Excuse me.” I attempt to push by again.
”OhmiG.o.d!” shrieks the girl behind. ”She's admitted it!”
”What? I -” I'm interrupted by a stinging slap across my face and I stumble, breath catching in my throat.
I stare back at the girl blinking away the watering eyes. Anger replaces the fear and I swallow down the desire to retaliate. More violence won't help the situation.
”Happy now?” I say though gritted teeth, holding my cheek.
She didn't expect this reaction because the girl slaps me a second time and my skin stings. The girl behind grabs my hair again and pulls my head downwards.
This is not happening.
I could scream, yell, something, but nothing will come from my mouth. I can't move, bent over where she's dragged my head down.
”You think you're something because your brother's a rock star!” she snarls into my face. ”That doesn't give you the right to take Jax and screw around!”
I gasp as the girl behind shoves me and I trip. Skin sc.r.a.pes on my palms as I hit the ground and one of them grabs my hair again. She pulls my head upwards and smacks my forehead on the ground. The pain doesn't register; the dull thud of my skull on the pavers joined by ringing in my ears. When she lets go I fall forward and wrap my arms around my head.
This isn't happening. Can't be.
”f.u.c.king kick her!” she yells to the other.
Still the words won't come, blood whooshes through my ears and I struggle for breath as I brace myself for the next a.s.sault.
”What the h.e.l.l is going on?” A male voice carries from the street and I hold my breath.
”s.h.i.+t!” hisses the girl whose face is closest to me. ”Go!”
I remain on the ground, arms wrapped around my head as their running footsteps retreat. Two pairs of shoes appear in front of me.
”Are you okay?”
”Fine.” I sit back on my heels and wobble slightly, placing a hand on the floor to steady myself as the world spins.
In the darkness, a middle-aged woman crouches down, short blonde hair falling forward, and studies my face. ”You don't look fine.”
”I'm fine,” I mumble but when I try to stand, I stumble.
”Are you on your own?” asks the man with her.
”My friends are in The Crown. I'll go back to them.”
The couple look at each other, a silent communication over what to do with me. The girls have disappeared from sight leaving the three of us in a strange meeting. ”Did they take your purse?” asks the woman.
”Um. Yes. And my phone,” I lie.
”Jesus, the attacks around here are getting worse,” mutters the man. ”Now you see why I don't like Molly out on her own at night!”
Leaning down, I slide my hands down my thighs, sucking in panicked breaths. My forehead stings and the ringing in my ears won't stop.
”We'll take you back to your friends,” says the woman and places a gentle hand on my arm. ”Maybe you should get checked out if you hit your head.”
”I'm fine.”
Is the s.p.a.ced out feeling of disconnection from my surrounds because of the fear, or the bang on the head? I walk slowly, in case I trip again and alert the couple to how bad my head hurts. Once I step into the safety of the pub, I indicate my workmates half-hidden by a group in front of their table. ”I'm all right now. My friends are there.”
”If your sure,” says the woman and I can hardly hear her words above the volume of the music.
”Thank you for your help.”
The woman stares at my face. ”I never noticed outside, but your face is bleeding.” She pulls a packet of tissues from her black handbag.
I touch my forehead and stare at my fingertips. Numb. Blood. The woman pa.s.ses me a tissue and I hold it against my face.
”You should report this. Here, this is our number if the police want to talk to us,” says the man.
I shuffle from foot to foot, not paying attention. I want to go home. Run away. There's no point contacting the police about random muggings. The man pushes a piece of paper into my hand and I point at my friends again. ”Thank you,” I repeat. ”I'll find somebody to take me home.”