Hunter barely evades the next punch and makes a quick turn to punch the guy in the side.
He throws out some more jabs, as if he’s a professional. His strikes are calculated, fast, and hit the weakest spots on their bodies, forcing them to back up for a second. He goes on like a raging bull, never quitting, never giving up.
“Run!” he screams, his eyes momentarily focusing on me.
My brain tells me to run like hell, but my gut tells me I shouldn’t. How can I? I can’t leave him. He’s fighting because of me. He’s the one who saved me. I can’t leave him to his fate.
“This is your life now, rookie. Just like it’s ours. Get used to it,” one of the guys says to Hunter, and he spits on the ground.
“I won’t let you fucking hurt her,” Hunter growls.
“If you mess with us, you can pay the price with your life,” the guy I bit snarls. “We. Demand. Respect.”
I stare at the men fighting each other, brutally going at it. I can’t even see Hunter anymore, as he’s pushed down to the ground. They’re going all out. Nobody’s going to stop unless I do something.
Some crazy idea in my head tells me to grab my purse and take out the pepper spray, but I notice it’s lying on the ground, just like all my other stuff.
It doesn’t even take me a second to make the decision.
My instincts take over, and I make a run for it and grab my stuff and the spray. Turning around toward our attackers, I step into the fight and start randomly spraying them until the bottle is empty. It feels good to hear them scream and see the tears in their eyes.
A bitter revenge.
They yell and scream, throwing their arms around in a fit of rage. They’re temporarily blinded by the stuff.
This is my chance.
I grab Hunter’s arm and haul him up from the floor. He can barely stand, busted by the beating, but I force him to come with me. I can’t leave him here. I have to save him, too.
I have no idea how I manage to do this, but I get him out of the crowd and pull him away.
He limps and leans on me, while I drag him to safety, far away from the group. We enter a nearby park and dive deep into the forested area.
His arm is around my shoulder, and I support his back with my arm. His body is heavy, and I can barely help him get to a tree. There, he slumps and sinks down to the trunk.
We’re both exhausted, breathing heavily. I sink to my knees and put my purse on the ground, panting.
I feel miserable, sick to my stomach. Those guys were touching me, trying to tear open my clothes. Trying to take away the thing that was mine to give.
The tears start flowing again, and I lower my head and bury it between my arms. For a moment I just don’t want to exist.
And then I feel his hand on me.
He’s caressing my head, petting my hair. His fingers are warm and soothing.
“They tried to … they wanted to …” I stammer.
“I know …” he says softly. His voice is hoarse and croaky, and he coughs.
I lift my head. It takes one look at him to immediately feel the pity.
Tears still sting my eyes, but I force them away when I see Hunter’s bloodied face. He looks even more miserable than me. His eyes are swollen, his lip is torn, and blood covers half his face. His face is swelling up and turning blue, and his nose seems crooked.
I gasp. “Oh my God …”
Coughing up blood, he tries to move, but winces instead.
“Don’t move,” I say, and I crawl closer.
Rummaging in my purse, I find a band aid and peel it. He has a wide slash on his left eyebrow, so I cover it up. But before I can continue my work on him, I hear a noise that alarms me.
Voices. Footsteps.
My breath hitches.
It’s them.
“Why did you … why did you do that? Why did you help me?” Hunter says. The words come out in a slur, as if he can barely talk.
“Shh …” I say, and I put my finger to my lips. “They can’t know we’re here.”
Hunter never takes his eyes off me as they saunter past the forest, seemingly still capable of walking. I hear them swear and yell, while my heart thumps in my throat.
“Motherfucker! You’ll pay for this!” one of them screams. “See you in the arena.”
I wait until they pass before breathing again. “We have to get out of here. Fast.”
Chapter 9
Mending the Broken
I don’t know for the life of me how I managed to haul him all the way back to campus and to the dorm, but I made it. I’m tired as hell, but I won’t give up now that I’m almost there.
Hunter’s nose is bleeding, leaving bloodstains on the carpet as we go upstairs. I drag him to the bathroom closest to my room and set him down on the toilet. His face is covered in blood, and it doesn’t take long for the bathroom to look like a crime scene.