Stalker - Clarissa Wild Page 0,83
multiple times.
The guy spits up alcohol and puke, and it flows all over his chest and the ground, but Miles keeps going.
“Stop,” Phillip says. “What are you doing?”
“Miles!” I yell, as he keeps punching the guy until he’s covered in blood and vomit.
By the time I get to Miles, the guy is already missing a few teeth and the bones in his fingers, jaw, and nose are obviously broken.
“Miles, stop!” I yell, pulling on his arm.
Consumed by his rage, he pushes me back so hard that I drop to the ground.
Everything suddenly stops. Miles has the guy’s shirt in his hand, ready for the next punch, but his eyes are on me as I lie partially on the ground. Raindrops fall from the skies, ruining my dress as I crawl up from the ground. Mud covers my dress, and my hair, draped over the side, is ruined. And yet, Miles still has this look of appreciation in his eyes … and of regret.
He sniffs, wiping his nose. “I’m … Fuck.”
He releases the guy and gets off him. Immediately, he storms toward me. For a second, I fear he’ll hit me, but then he grabs my hand and drags me away.
“What are you doing?” I say.
“Hey! Where are you going?” Phillip yells. “You can’t leave him like this!”
I look back at Phillip who is helping his friend up from the ground. He looks pretty beaten up, but the thing that strikes me the most is that Phillip is helping him, even though he didn’t help me. Meanwhile, people come flocking out of the building, probably alerted by all the ruckus going on outside.
“Don’t look back,” Miles says as he hauls me away.
“He’s hurt!” I say.
“Fuck him,” Miles spits.
“You beat him to a pulp, Miles!” I try to grab his attention, but he’s not even looking at me. We seem to be moving toward his car, and I get the sense this isn’t going to end well.
“Let go of me!” I jerk my arm loose.
“No, you’re coming with me,” he says as he fishes the key from his pocket and presses a button, making the car beep.
He opens the door and says, “Get in.”
“No. Why the hell would I do that?”
“Get. In!” he yells so hard that I’m jolted backward against the metal, feeling my way into the car. There’s only one time I remember ever feeling this scared of his aggressiveness … back when he beat the guy who bullied me.
He slams the door shut behind me when I finally get inside, and then he storms to the other side and jumps in, too. The engine revs and he quickly closes his door before stepping on the gas. The car shoots forward like lightning, and I have to grasp my seat to remain steady and not be flung from side to side.
I only just put my seatbelt on when Miles says, “What the fuck were you doing with those guys?”
“Nothing. I was outside, taking a breather, and the next thing I know, that dude was on top of me, trying to get a kiss.”
“Oh, no,” he growls, shaking his head. “There was much, much more he wanted to do to you.”
I frown. “You don’t know that. He was drunk.”
“Yeah, I do. I’d recognize that look anywhere. I know how it fucking feels, all right?” He glances at me with such fire in his eyes that I’m a bit taken aback. I’m not sure whether I should be scared of him or thankful.
“He was going to fucking take advantage of you, okay? That kiss wasn’t the only thing he was after. Fuckers like that don’t stop until they have everything.”
Miles pulls on the steering wheel so hard that I almost think we’re going to tumble over, but he manages to keep the car on the right track. He’s putting all his anger into this, I can tell.
“But you beat him to a pulp, Miles. He knows. Phillip saw it. Half the school was there. They’ll know it was you,” I say.
“I don’t care. They can drag me to the police station for all I care.”
“Why? Why did you do it?”
“Because I don’t want to see you get hurt!” he yells.
The painful look in his eyes has me momentarily dazed. A flush spreads across my cheek. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”
“I did it because your fucking boyfriend didn’t. Fucking waste of space.”
“Don’t talk about him like that!”
“Oh, yeah? What did he ever do for you?” he asks, grinding his teeth.