AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Oomph.
“Stop, you fucking bastard!” I shout, shoving him out of my way. He stumbles back into the other wall, almost tripping over his own feet. Righting himself, he stands up straight and points his knife towards me.
“I wish your mother would have aborted you! You’re a waste of a human!”
He uses his knife, blade out, and tries to get my face. I lean back, but the blade still swipes my face. Stinging pain shoots through my cheek and I look at him with wide eyes.
This motherfucker is trying to kill me.
26
Cara
When I hear ashout coming from the direction Jackson and his dad went, I nearly jump out of my skin. I look around, hoping for Easton or anyone of the regulars that I know who can go back there to make sure everything is okay.
No one.
On shaky, exhausted legs, I come to a stand. I hesitate for a moment, but when I hear another noise, I know I can’t wait any longer.
Something in the deep part of my gut is telling me Jackson needs me right now.
As quietly as possible, I walk down the hall. The sounds get louder the closer I get. Sounds of shuffling and grunting signal just what I was afraid of.
They’re fighting.
When they come into view, I see Jackson on the ground with his dad laying over him, brutally attacking him. Fist after fist.
I gasp audibly because there’s blood on the floor and I’m worried that it’s Jackson’s.
His dad is on top of him in a worn white shirt and dirty jeans, like he’s been wearing the same clothes for the last week.
I’ve never seen him this… worn.
His dad doesn’t notice me, but Jackson does. His swollen face which has only recently healed from the last altercation, is covered in bruises and blood trails down his face.
There’s fear in his eyes, and I’m not sure if it’s directed at me or if he’s worried about himself. I hear a scrape and look down, seeing Jackson’s knife in front of me.
My heart stops.What am I supposed to do with this?
The pleading in Jackson’s eyes gives me courage, and I bend down to pick up the knife with shaky hands.
I can’t do this.
His dad grunts as he keeps hitting him, so zoned in with hurting his son—absolutely destroying him—that he doesn’t notice someone right in front of him.
When his dad does a particularly hard swing, Jackson’s head flies to the side. A tooth flies out of his mouth, and blood splats to the ground like oversized rain drops.
My stomach turns, but I rush forward with the knife.
His dad notices me at the last second, but it’s too late. I plunge the knife into his chest, as deep as it can go. It feels weird, the knife sinking through skin and muscle. Unlike anything you can imagine it would be like.
His eyes go wide, then fill with anger.
“S-slut.” He grunts. “You’ll have a bastard baby, just like his father.” Then the worst possible pain in my lower belly. Throbbing, sharp pain makes me gasp and curl over. My eyes fly down, and I see Jackson’s dad falling backwards, the knife plunged into my stomach sliding out with his fall. It feels like this is all happening in slow motion.
The blood on the blade only proves what I feared.
Randall just stabbed me.
