Focus.
I grunt out as I try to find a way out of his hold, but each wiggle has my shoulder screaming out in agony.
“Get the fuck off me!” I grit out trying to turn my head and face my attacker, but as soon as the words leave my lips, he shoves my face into the ground. The broken branches tearing at my cheek and temple as he places more pressure on my head. I feel his weight shift as he leans down to my ear. He whispers softly and my stomach drops.
“I know who you really are,” I freeze. “Go home or you won’t like the consequences”.
He lifts my head again and whacks it back down into the ground, I shout out in pain as my vision blurs. I feel a cut on my cheek open from the force of him and my head spins. As soon as the weight is off my back I jump up as quickly as I can to face him, but I stumble and fall back onto my knees.
I look up towards the path but only just catch the back of his body as it disappears around the corner. I take note of as much as I can see through my hazy vision. Black hoodie that’s pulled up over his head, black joggers with no significant emblems on them and a pair of black running trainers with white soles but I can’t see the make.
Shit.
I groan in frustration as I shakily get onto my feet, this time without falling back down. I pull my right arm to my chest as I try to ease the ache from how hard he pulled it behind my back as I hobble the rest of the way to the centre.
I feel the familiar sting of growing pressure behind my eyes as I fight to keep the tears at bay.
I am stronger than this.
I made sure I was stronger than this.
Why the fuck do I want to cry right now.
I have endured far worse than this at the hands of my own father. But there is something different about this attack. With my father, it’s about enduring the pain to survive. But this… this made me feel weak and helpless. Just like before.
I slowly push through the double doors, making sure to use my left hand and slowly pad down the hallway, following the signs for the gym. I need to get to the showers and get a hold of myself. Clean myself up before anyone sees me.
I go through another set of doors and the smell of antibacterial wipes hits my nostrils. I scan the empty room and take a note of all the equipment in here. I won’t be using any now with the pain in my shoulder, but I will make sure to come back after spotting a few punching bags hanging up in a line.
I find the girls changing rooms over on the other side of the gym floor and I silently make my way. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and immediately grimace. My ponytail is half hanging out, white strands flailing all over the place, I have a few cuts to my face, and I have bramble and dirt clinging to my clothes. I look like I have been dragged through a hedge backwards. Literally.
I shake my head and turn towards the changing rooms, but as I go, my gaze is captured by someone else’s.
Asher.
Shit.
He is sitting on a weight bench, thick thighs either side, sweaty and… topless.
His sculpted body showing all the hard work he clearly puts into it right here. He is sitting, elbows on his knees and phone in hand, but his focus is on me.
I swallow.
His inspecting stare tracks over my body, from the scuff marks on my leggings, the cuts on my face, to the haphazard ponytail clinging on for dear life.
He stands up from his seated position. It’s slow and predatory like, and the room feels as though it drops a few degrees with the icy stare he hits me with.
“What the fuck happened?”.
NINE
RUELLA
What the fuck happened.
His words are sharp and fast through his clenched jaw. The concern in his voice throws me slightly. No one is ever concerned when it comes to me. Even when I am black and blue from fists and belts, the people around me turn a blind eye, as though I am nothing more than a ghost.
I suppose I am a ghost. A walking shell of a human with no purpose or real future.
