Guilty Love

15| Knight

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Knight

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Chapter 15: Knight (London's POV)

Taking shots like that and walking out on my own was probably a very stupid idea. Okay, it was a very stupid idea. But I was angry and by the time I came out of the bathroom and went back to the table, Verena and Damon were already one shot in, so I joined them. But within three shots, I remembered alcohol isn't for me, especially vodka, and I should get home before I pass out on the table itself. 

Damon did ask me out of concern when he was merely tipsy if I should be leaving on my own, but I waved him off and walked away anyway. 

I blinked slowly, my vision turning hazy as I walked, recognizing my store. That's how I knew I was on the right track. I stopped at the end of the street, too tired to keep walking. I leaned against the wall near the alleyway, taking a break. I blinked in confusion, peeking into the alleyway when I heard a loud thud as if something had fallen near the dumpster at the end of the alleyway. 

I started feeling uneasy and thought I should leave but before I could, I felt someone grabbing my arm, pulling me into the alleyway. I let out a yelp in surprise, instantly trying to jerk my arm free but their hold was too tight. I stumbled over my own feet, which only helped the man pull me in further. "Hey!" I yelled when I was shoved against the wall, groaning softly while touching the back of my head. 

"Where's your purse?" he asked through gritted teeth, sounding furious. 

I finally saw his face under the dim lamp shining right above my head. Under the shabby hair and clothing, I couldn't see the face clearly, but from his clothes and where he was, it was obvious this man was homeless. "I don't have anything on me," I grunted, giving him a hard push. 

I have no idea who this man is because Runville doesn't often have a lot of homeless people. People don't just stumble into Runville because they don't have anywhere to go. People in Runville have always been in Runville. "Bitch," he snarled, patting my pockets. 

I cursed, "Fuck off!" I threw his hands off my body and pushed myself off the wall, moving to run out. I barely took one step forward before he grabbed a handful of my hair, jerking me back, throwing my head back against the wall. I cried out loudly, feeling my eyes stinging from the burn and the pain in my head. I grabbed my head, my knees giving out as I sat down, tears falling from my eyes. 

"Have you got any money on you or not?" he asked, reaching into his pocket and taking out a pocket knife, flashing the blade at me. 

I shook my head without looking up. 

"Phone?" he pried. 

I shook my head again, crying louder as my head pounded. Maybe I was bleeding, I couldn't feel anything, but my head hit the wall too hard. Then my phone started ringing in my back pocket. I closed my eyes tightly, keeping my head down. 

"You fucking liar," he chuckled dryly, taking a step forward. 

I kicked him as hard as I could in the shin, making him yelp and crouch down, grabbing his leg. He glared at me, inching closer with the blade and I closed my eyes, ready for him to cut me somewhere or stab me somewhere, but the blow never came.