Escape

Marcel Styles

Harry's POV

"Here you go, kid. I hope you like it," Charlie told me and gave me my new ID.

"Thanks, Charlie," I took out some money, but he stopped me.

"It's all right, kid. You don't have to pay me." He stated, and I put my money away. He grinned and walked around the counter. "You're a good kid, Harry. You just got here, please, don't get into any trouble, okay?"

I tucked the ID into my wallet. "Yeah, I know, I know."

He returned to behind the counter. "You better get going, or else you're going to miss the bus."

I nodded and began walking towards the exit, but I turned back. "Thank you, again."

"No problem, kid. Now go," He said, flicking his wrist, motioning for me to leave.

I pushed the door and walked out into the busy street. The cold Autumn breeze caused my, somewhat-long, curls go wild. I tugged at my jacket, trying, and failing, to get some warmth from it. I sat down on a bench and waited for the bus to come. There were some other people there, too. A boy around my age with blond hair, but I could see the natural brown roots, had his headphones plugged in and was rocking his head to whatever tune he was listening. There was an old lady with a young girl by her side.

I pulled my phone out and played Temple Run. I got frustrated when I tried swiping left, but it didn't work, so I died. I put my phone away and took in my surroundings. Charlie's pawn shop was in between two deserted buildings in a rather nasty side of Doncaster. There were some good things around. People were strolling around and talking. Though, most of them were drug addicts. There were some nice clothing stores across the street, along with an ice cream shop. I made a note to self to go to the mall to buy more clothes.

A lad wearing all black approached us. He had one hand inside his pocket and the other gripping the pole. He looked around with his bloodshot eyes. He was probably high. I sighed, knowing what was coming. I got up from the beach and approached the pale lad.

"Hey, mate. I know what you're going to do. I advise you not to do it. There's a child here." I spoke quietly but loud enough for him to hear. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and flashed his knife.

"Do you think I care?" He asked trying to move past me, but I walked in front of him. He came at me with the knife, but I hastily grabbed his wrist and tightened my grip. His hand crippled, and the knife slipped out of his hand.

"I don't want to make a scene, and I'm sure you don't want to get a beating, right?" I said slow and quiet, almost menacingly. He nodded vigorously, obviously scared. He didn't look over 18 or 19.

"I'm going to let go of your hand, and you're gonna go back to wherever the hell you came from," I loosened my grip, but I quickly tightened it again. "Don't go near the knife," I whispered, and he nodded once again, definitely wanting to get out of this situation.

I tightened my grip once more. "If I ever see you again, I won't be so nice." I let go of his wrist, and he turned around, rushing towards the pub down the street.

I turned around and saw the bus coming. I swiftly grabbed the knife from the ground and threw it into the bin. The bus doors opened, and we all climbed in, the blond kid grinning at me. He paid for himself then it was my turn, but he quickly placed his arm over my chest, stopping me.

"It's on me, mate. I saw what you did back there. Thank you." His Irish accent surprised me a little.

I didn't say anything, because I didn't know what to say. Besides Charlie, he was the first to thank me for something I did. I smiled and nodded. We took a seat and surprisingly got off at the same stop, too.