Always For You (Books 1-3) (2 page)

“Here they come!” Katie perked up
as two men approached through the door at the front of the
restaurant, excitedly jumping to her feet and waving them over as
they scoured the room for us.
Here we go again.

I turned to check them out, my body
void of any enthusiasm. The guy Katie was currently hugging, Brad,
was as expected. Tattoos, muscles, shaved head. The type of guy she
always went for, that bad boy type with an easy smile and cool
motorbike. I wasn't so sure she'd get very far if she kept falling
for these guys – to me they weren't exactly husband material.

The other guy turned to me and
introduced himself. He was just like Brad, and not my type at all.
Sure, he was good looking, his square jaw peppered with thick
stubble, his frame tall and athletic, but nope, not my type.

We sat back down as the guys got drinks
at the bar. “Sooo, what'd ya think?” Katie said, eager for my
opinion. I never had the heart to tell her what I really thought, so
just told her what she wanted to hear instead. Perhaps I should be
cruel to be kind, tell her that someone like Brad is clearly only
looking for one thing, that her search for Mr Right is not gonna end
tonight. But no, I hadn't the guts to sully her evening, drop that
smile from her hopeful face. In any case, I could be wrong, although
history would suggest otherwise.

As expected I got a flurry of texts
from Tom over the course of the night. We'd been together for 4 years
now, and he never failed to text me when I was out without him. He
always had this slight jealousy complex about him, like he thought
I'd cheat on him or something. Guess it was a lingering symptom of an
ex girlfriend who did just that. But no, that wasn't me. I hope he
knew that deep down. Four years is a long time though. Sure, I'd
never done anything else with anyone, never would I'd hope, but would
still maybe think about other guys sometimes. Tonight was one of
those nights.

It was Cain who awoke my lust for
another man this time. Never something I'd act upon, but you can't
control your feelings. Despite what I thought when he first arrived,
there was a definite spark between us. I don't know what it was
exactly: those dimples on his chiselled cheeks, that 'I don't give a
shit' attitude, that nonchalant demeanour. He sat back in the booth
as Brad and Katie leaned in to talk, casually talking across the
table to me. His words reached my ears easily over the noise, without
him having to shout, without him having to strain his voice.

For some reason that attracted me. He
just sat there, talking calmly, almost disinterested. Perhaps it was
the contrast with Tom, always trying to cater to me, always making
sure I was OK. I loved him, but sometimes he was just too, well,
nice.

Cain was playful, his questions
probing. Usually I'd refuse to play the game, but this time it was
different. He was witty, much wittier than I would have thought, than
anyone would think to look at him. The alcohol in my veins wasn't
doing me any good. It was betraying me, causing me to have lustful
thoughts for another man. I started undressing him with my mind as we
sat across the table from each other, his shirt ripped from his body,
lean muscles and tattoos below.

I was snapped from my daydream by
Katie, suggesting we go to another bar. Before I'd have had no
intention of doing so, but Cain made me want to stay. I felt a primal
attraction to him, something that I hadn't felt for a while. The
alcohol in my blood hadn't yet stricken me of my senses, however, so
I declined the offer.

“Gotta work tomorrow,” I said,
lying, before walking off down the street.

As I left I felt Cain's gaze linger on
my back, his piercing eyes watching as I strolled away. I let out a
breath as I rounded the corner, out of sight, and leaned up against
the wall of a shop, a dirty ally to my right. There was nobody
around, an eerie silence in the air. I exhaled deeply, trying to blow
some of the alcohol out of my body, trying to gather my wits.

My eye was suddenly caught by a shadow
moving in the ally. And a voice, raspy and quiet, came from the
darkness. “Drop your purse, give me your phone.” The words came
suddenly, shocking me back to reality.

I turned my head as a figure rushed at
me, lunging forward, a hood shrouding their face. I stepped back,
tripping over my heels, hitting the concrete with a thud, my purse
and phone scattered to the floor. My heart shot from my chest, my
breath caught in my lungs as I attempted to shout out. No words came
as the man scavenged on the floor for my things, his hands busily
reaching out and pulling the purse from my grasp.

“Hey!” A voice came from behind me.
“What the fuck is this, get away from her.” It was Cain, standing
up against my assailant.

The guy turned and ran, scurrying off
down the road like a rat, pursued by a lion. Cain roared after him,
his pace quickening as he gathered momentum, catching the man within
seconds and flattening him to the floor. He crouched atop him, his
fists flurrying, cracking into the man's face. Blood gathered on the
sidewalk
as Cain continued to pound him,
the man thrashing beneath him like a fish in a net.

I ran towards them, putting my hand's
to Cain's back, my touch pleading him to stop. “Stop,” I shouted
as he turned, his bloodied fist ready to strike. His face was on
fire, his eyes wide, teeth barred like a Rottweiler. He breathed
heavily, turning back to the man as his expression began to recede to
normal. My attacker lay on the ground, his face battered, blood
pouring from cuts over his eyes and mouth.

Cain hurriedly grabbed my purse and
phone and passed them to me. “I have to go,” he said, his eyes
more frantic, darting this way and that. He sped off down the road,
quickly disappearing into the night, leaving me alone there.

I looked back down at the man, unable
to look at his broken face for long. I knelt sheepishly and checked
for a pulse. He was still breathing. I got out my phone and quickly
called for an ambulance, looking around to see if anyone else was
nearby. It was quiet, every shop lining the road shut up for the
night. I battled with myself to go, leave this man here on his own.
He attacked me, why should I stay?
But
he might die, choke on blood, vomit, or his tongue. I gingerly rolled
him over to his side, placing him into the recovery position, hearing
his breathing ease, the gurgle of blood in his mouth subside.

I
waited. It seemed like hours but was only minutes. The ambulance
arrived and the paramedics rushed in, the quiet night disturbed by
the
clamoring
of their van and their hurried prognosis as they stabilized the
mugger.

“Who
are you,” one asked as they busily strapped him to a stretcher.

I thought for a second. “Um, no one.
I just found him here.” I didn't want to get involved in this.

“OK
miss, you did the right thing by putting him on his side. It's a good
thing you found him, he might have died otherwise.”

“Is
he going to be OK?”

“We
can't say yet. He's critical. Please miss, step aside.”

They rushed the man towards the
ambulance and lifted the stretcher inside, one of the medics climbing
in with him, the other jumping straight into the driver's street. The
van roared to life, its sirens wailing and screeching in the silent
night as it shot off down the road.

I
stood there again, in silence as the van disappeared..
What
a night
.

Cain

I ran so fucking hard it hurt my legs.
My blood was still boiling, my rage threatening to spill over. I ran
until I didn't know where I was, down a track into the woods, my
heart beating so fast I thought it would explode out of my chest.

I stopped, the darkness consuming me,
the light so faint all around. It was silent, save my breath, heaving
through my rage. I stood there, my hands dangling by my side, my
heart slowing gradually. “What the fuck just happened,” I thought
as I stood in the blackness, my mind trying to retrace my steps; my
actions.

I'd come out of the bar, watching Grace
walk away. She was hot, and cool. She had a boyfriend though I think
- typical. I saw her go round the corner, noticed a skulking figure
coming in the distance. He seemed shifty, so I walked after her,
checked she was OK. Saw him there, over here, grabbing at her. Then I
chased and – I'm not sure – it went hazy, black.

I looked down at my hands, bloodied and
bruised and knew what had happened. It had happened before, too many
times to remember. It was a problem I'd had since I was a child, a
problem at school, a problem outside of it. I guess you could call me
a walking cliché; the troubled kid who grew up with different foster
parents, always getting chucked out of school and getting in fights
with the local kids. But cliché or not, that was my life.

I
got out my phone and open up my torch app, using the light to find
out where the hell I was. I didn't know these woods, never came down
to this part of town.
I'm
not going back there though, they might be looking for me
.
I continued on down the path, hoping to come out onto another street.
It was totally silent in there, the only sound my footsteps and
cracking twigs. I didn't care through, the dark never scared me.

Within a few minutes I saw lights, a
lonely house in the darkness, the shapes of figures moving about in
the living room, music sounding from inside. I turned down the
brightness of my torch and crept forward, searching with my eyes for
a tap, a hose. I needed to wash the blood off my hands. I found a tap
on the outside wall, twisting the rusty metal until water trickled
from the spout. My hands hurt as the water washed over them, the
adrenaline in my body wearing off. My knuckles were turning purple,
cuts and gashes across my fingers. It was a familiar sight.

I
continued on in silence, the leaves rustling in the trees above my
head as gentle bursts of wind flowed in across my face. I seemed to
walk for miles before coming out onto a road, a smattering of houses
lining the street. No lights were on now - it was too late - and
there were no cars riding by. I saw a bicycle hitched up against a
fence by the side of one of the homes and climbed on.
People
in this area don't chain up their things?

It
didn't take me long to bike home, quiet as the roads were. I left the
bike down the street.
It
was a piece of shit anyway, won't be missed.
I
climbed the stairs up to my flat, the walls stained and grimy, the
sound of a loud bass pulsing in the flat below me.

“
Shut
the fuck up in there,” I shouted as I banged on the door.

The noise dimmed and a man opened it on
the latch. “Who the fuc – oh Cain, hey man. Yeah, no worries bro,
I'll keep it down for you, thought you were out.” He sounded
nervous, he was always like that around me.

My lower neighbour Tag glanced at my
hands, already starting to swell. “Hey man, you alright?”

“
Fine,”
I said, flatly. “Just keep it down.”

I continued to the next
floor and into my flat, empty cans of beer and dirty plates
everywhere. I went straight to the fridge and cracked open a bud,
sinking it in seconds. I turned to the counter and flipped the cap
off a bottle of whisky, collapsing over on the couch as I took a
swig, ice blankets wrapped around my hands.
What
a fucking night.

July 16th 2012

Grace

It had been over three months since I'd
seen Cain thrash that mugger to within an inch of his life and I was
still haunted by it. Not just by the mugging: the raspy voice in the
darkness, the hooded figure lunging at me. No, it was the image of
the man lying there, his face broken, the gentle sound of gurgling as
the blood threatened to course down his throat.

I hadn't told anyone about it, not even
Katie. I didn't know if the guy had lived or died, and I didn't know
which way I hoped for it to go. Most of the time my humanity took
over and I'd hoped he'd lived. But then, sometimes, when I'd wake up
in the dead of night with his voice in my head, I'd wish the other
way.

I had no idea what had happened to
Cain. As I'd expected Katie went on a couple of dates with Brad and
then he broke it off. Any information from him wasn't going to be
forthcoming from then on. I don't know why I cared anyway. The
brutality he showed, he was like a caveman, battering a viral with
nothing but his fists. It was horrific to see, and yet I couldn't
blame him. He'd saved me, so I had to be grateful.

It affected me more than I thought it
would though. I guess my sheltered life knew no grief or stress
whatsoever, so something like that stuck with me more than it might
someone else. Tom was typically worried, asking me what was wrong
every time I woke abruptly next to him. I fobbed him off with the lie
that my college work was stressing me out, but I could tell he knew
there was more to it than that. I could have told him, about the
mugging at least. I just didn't want him pandering to me. I didn't
want that sort of attention.

It was a Saturday when I went home to
see my parents for the day. My older sister, Ellen, was there too. We
always got along so well when we were young, being only about a year
apart in age, and I loved it whenever she came home. I'd gone to
college close to where my parents lived, but she'd shot off to the
other side of the country. I guess I wanted to stay close to mom and
dad, close to Tom. She, on the other hand, didn't have such close
ties, and had developed a more troubled relationship with my parents
in recent years.

“Hey lil sis,” Ellen said as I
wandered into her bedroom.