Afire: Entire Blinded Series by Sarah Masters Read Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sarah Masters
shutting off the past. The pain. But I don't. I keep going until the row of local shops comes into view, the inevitable bunch of blokes outside, ones I went to school with if previous nights are anything to go by. As I near, they look up and nudge one another. I ready myself for their usual onslaught, one I'm getting tired of but don't have the bottle to try and stop. And they wouldn't stop anyway, even if I said something. Wankers.
"Whey hey! It's the bent bastard!” one shouts, the others bursting into laughter.
I keep my head down and draw closer, my guts going over, fear of what they'll say or do seeping into my bones. I should stand up for myself, give them what for, but there's five of them and one of me, and I don't fancy being beaten up tonight. Their laughter gets louder the closer I get, and it's like I'm outside myself looking in, seeing me walking past them, seeing a leg jerking out from the pack ready to trip me over. I scoot around it, heart hammering, fists clenched in my pockets, and walk inside the shop. All this for a fucking pint of milk, and I've got the return visit to look forward to in a bit. Just got to hope they've buggered off by then.
I pay for the milk and leave the shop, stomach clenching in anticipation of a fresh attack. It comes loud and clear, hoots of derision and gross words about sex that bring a blush to my cheeks. I wouldn't know if what they'd said was true—never been fucked, never been kissed—but they make it sound dirty, wrong, when it isn't. Not to me. To me it's right, beautiful, who I am. I walk on, lifting my eyes to see where I'm going, tuning out their crass jibes. Around the corner, I release a breath I didn't know I'd held and clamp my lips together, tears too close for comfort. I hate it that they can reduce me to feeling like a little kid again. Hate it that they've dogged me all my damn life and always will if I let them.
How am I supposed to come out, be myself, when I live in such a small-minded, nasty little town? How the fuck am I meant to be me ?
Jesus Christ, I'm not going to cry. Not going to let those bastards win. Ryan'll be with me soon. I'll be all right then. Yeah, we'll go up the pub or something. Just...forget this crap and have a laugh .
I stare ahead, shoulders not so stooped, and it's like just the thought of Ryan makes me feel better. Gives me courage. A small smile plays about my lips as images of him messing about go through my mind. He's so free and easy with himself, and he would be, because that's who he is, who he's been allowed to be. And I'm back to square one. Back to thinking about Mum and my shitty life. I need to stop going over it, letting it fester inside me. I should be like Dad and smile despite the pain. That'd piss her right off.
A figure strolls toward me in the distance, and right away I know it's Ryan. I can tell by his gait, the way he walks so fluidly, arms swinging by his sides, probably whistling if I know him. He must have got off the bus a few stops early.
Yep, it's him all right. He raises his arm and waves, picking up the pace, jogging toward me until we're a few feet apart. I stop, he stops, and we stare at one another, his breaths short, cheeks flushed.
"All right?” he asks, smile wide.
Shit, I love him. Always have and always will. “Yeah. You?"
"Not too bad, mate. She wanted milk, then?"
I nod, and we walk side by side. My whole day has changed from dreary to exciting, the future—at least for the next few hours—bright and happy.
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Chapter Two
She wanted sugar. Fucking sugar to sweeten her tea. Shame it didn't sweeten her attitude. Ryan walked back to the shop with me, and funnily enough, the blokes outside didn't utter a damn word. They never do if he's with me. He'd given them as good as they gave him a while ago, striking back after one of them punched him in the stomach. I'd stood rooted to the spot, unable to help even though the desire to do so raged through me. I
"Whey hey! It's the bent bastard!” one shouts, the others bursting into laughter.
I keep my head down and draw closer, my guts going over, fear of what they'll say or do seeping into my bones. I should stand up for myself, give them what for, but there's five of them and one of me, and I don't fancy being beaten up tonight. Their laughter gets louder the closer I get, and it's like I'm outside myself looking in, seeing me walking past them, seeing a leg jerking out from the pack ready to trip me over. I scoot around it, heart hammering, fists clenched in my pockets, and walk inside the shop. All this for a fucking pint of milk, and I've got the return visit to look forward to in a bit. Just got to hope they've buggered off by then.
I pay for the milk and leave the shop, stomach clenching in anticipation of a fresh attack. It comes loud and clear, hoots of derision and gross words about sex that bring a blush to my cheeks. I wouldn't know if what they'd said was true—never been fucked, never been kissed—but they make it sound dirty, wrong, when it isn't. Not to me. To me it's right, beautiful, who I am. I walk on, lifting my eyes to see where I'm going, tuning out their crass jibes. Around the corner, I release a breath I didn't know I'd held and clamp my lips together, tears too close for comfort. I hate it that they can reduce me to feeling like a little kid again. Hate it that they've dogged me all my damn life and always will if I let them.
How am I supposed to come out, be myself, when I live in such a small-minded, nasty little town? How the fuck am I meant to be me ?
Jesus Christ, I'm not going to cry. Not going to let those bastards win. Ryan'll be with me soon. I'll be all right then. Yeah, we'll go up the pub or something. Just...forget this crap and have a laugh .
I stare ahead, shoulders not so stooped, and it's like just the thought of Ryan makes me feel better. Gives me courage. A small smile plays about my lips as images of him messing about go through my mind. He's so free and easy with himself, and he would be, because that's who he is, who he's been allowed to be. And I'm back to square one. Back to thinking about Mum and my shitty life. I need to stop going over it, letting it fester inside me. I should be like Dad and smile despite the pain. That'd piss her right off.
A figure strolls toward me in the distance, and right away I know it's Ryan. I can tell by his gait, the way he walks so fluidly, arms swinging by his sides, probably whistling if I know him. He must have got off the bus a few stops early.
Yep, it's him all right. He raises his arm and waves, picking up the pace, jogging toward me until we're a few feet apart. I stop, he stops, and we stare at one another, his breaths short, cheeks flushed.
"All right?” he asks, smile wide.
Shit, I love him. Always have and always will. “Yeah. You?"
"Not too bad, mate. She wanted milk, then?"
I nod, and we walk side by side. My whole day has changed from dreary to exciting, the future—at least for the next few hours—bright and happy.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Two
She wanted sugar. Fucking sugar to sweeten her tea. Shame it didn't sweeten her attitude. Ryan walked back to the shop with me, and funnily enough, the blokes outside didn't utter a damn word. They never do if he's with me. He'd given them as good as they gave him a while ago, striking back after one of them punched him in the stomach. I'd stood rooted to the spot, unable to help even though the desire to do so raged through me. I