Chapter Seven:

"What happened to your dad?" Michael asked me.

During our little night walk we had managed to wander to a park near the Colorado River. We had silently decided to hang around here for a little while and we were currently sitting on the swings that overlooked the river.

"Dad... It's such a strange word, isn't it? It's spelled the same forwards and backwards. Kind of like-," I drawled feeling panic begin to rise in me. Well, until Michael cut me off.

"What happened to your dad?" He growled, a little more forcibly.

I stayed quiet for a moment. I stopped swinging and just stared down at the wood chips beneath my feet. I felt my bad thoughts begin prodding the back of my mind and the anxiety I had fought so hard to keep at bay was slowly creeping up on me.

"There's a reason why I don't talk about him. And that reason is kept between my mum, brother and me. No one else," I told him.
Michael stared at me for a moment. I felt his eyes picking me apart and I felt the urge to curl up into a ball and cry.

However, he stopped when he realized how uncomfortable he was making me and simply looked over at the river. I looked away and took several deep breaths to calm myself down before returning to staring across the river.

I never realized how peaceful the night was until now. Of course, I was still constantly looking over my shoulder at every little noise that I heard, afraid someone was going to come up behind me and stab me or something. In those cases, I'd look over at Michael and wonder how he could stay so calm.

I took a deep breath again and looked up at the moon. It had to be a least midnight by now. My mum would probably be wondering where I was at this point. I really should leave... But then again, I was really enjoying these moments with Michael, even if I wasn't learning anything new about him.

"Shut up," Michael muttered.

"Wot?" I asked, confusion lacing my voice. I hadn't said anything, did I? Oh bloody hell please tell me I didn't say anything.

"Not you... Um... Don't worry about it," Michael muttered.

I gazed at him and then around myself wondering who he had been talking to. I was the only one with him, the only one that he could've been talking to.

However, he didn't allow me to ponder for too long on that since he jumped up and began to walk away. I followed him, jogging a few paces to catch up. I walked beside him, watching him for any explanation of what we were doing, but he just kept a cold, stony look on his face.

We walked down to the rivers edge. Michael gazed into the water, his eyes seeming darker as he stared into the shallow depths.

"Have you ever wondered what it would be like to drown?" Michael asked me.

"Well... I guess I have at one point. Drowning... It's such a scary thing to think of. Suffocating to death doesn't seem that pleasant," I answered, hoping that's what he wanted to hear.

"You didn't get the point," He said.

"Wot?" I asked, confusion present in my voice.

"Drown could be a metaphor for anything. Drowning in your problems, sorrow, or it could literally mean drowning in water," Michael told me. I nodded, understanding a little more.

"Do you drown in your problems?" I asked him.

Michael didn't say anything for some time. He sighed and looked into the sky, then at me. I gazed into his dark brown eyes, suddenly feeling insecure and small.

"Yes," He told me plainly.

I nodded, feeling like I was finally getting somewhere with him. But then again, I felt a stab of pity and sympathy for him even though I had no idea what his problems may consist of.

"When Arron and his gang threw you off the balcony... Why didn't you try to swim?" I asked him.

Michael again didn't say anything. He just gazed into the water. He suddenly stepped into the water, soaking his shoes and the ends of his pant legs still starring straight down into the water. He stepped farther and farther out until the water touched his knees.

"Have you ever wanted to give up on everything you knew?" He asked me.

I looked at him questioningly. He turned his gaze to me, as if knowing I was confused by his question. He let a tiny, shallow smile appear on his face and he nodded.

"Someday you might understand. You and Arron, what is he to you?" Michael said, quickly changing the subject.

"Um... I guess just teammates, why?" I asked him.

"Good... Don't be his friend. He isn't worth your time," Michael said, turning back around. "Not to mention he's a backstabber."

I nodded slowly, not knowing whether I should take what he said as a compliment or not. I never really thought of him as a friend, but people talked about us like we were the best of friends.

I felt my phone vibrate and I pulled it out, reading the angry text from my mum. I gulped as I read the threats that my mum wouldn't be afraid to act upon if I didn't return home.

I looked back at Michael, still wading in the water about five meters from where I stood. I debated on staying and just explaining to my mum that my phone died. Believing that the idea wouldn't work after the umpteenth time using it, I decided to go with the latter.

"Hey... My mum will kill me if I don't start heading home now. I'll see you tomorrow, right?" I asked him.

"Probably not," He muttered back.

I sighed and hung my head, beginning to walk back home. However, as I began walking, I couldn't help but look behind my shoulder at Michael again. I watched as he gazed up at the moon, hand slipping into his pocket and retrieving a shiny pocket knife. I stopped walking, watching him curiously. Did he always have a pocket knife?

I watched him flick it open and roll down his sleeve. He finally averted his gaze from the moon, to his wrist and I watched in horror as he lowered it down to his skin.

Suddenly, I felt something slide over my head. I gasped in surprise as someone quickly slid their hand into my back pocket, taking my wallet.

I screamed and swung out blindly with my fist. When it didn't connect with anything, I resorted to trying to grasp ahold of the nearest person to me.

Immediately after I started this strategy, I was shoved to the ground. I felt a kick jab me directly in my stomach and another to my chest. I curled up into a ball and tried to protect myself the best I could as I continued to get bombarded by kicks.

However, the kicks randomly stopped.

I laid there, wondering if I would be able to take the bag off my head. When I heard the sound of a grunt and a knife whistling through the air, I decided to quickly take it off.

Once the bag was off and I could partially sit up, I watched as Michael waved his knife out to my attacker. The attackers arm was bleeding from a long cut on his bicep and he almost looked uncertain on whether he wanted to continue fighting or not.

When Michael faked an attack, the man dropped my wallet and ran off, holding his bloody arm. I sat up fully, holding my stomach as nausea and pain swarmed around it.

Michael picked up my wallet and took a ten from it. He handed it back to me however I was too absorbed with the fact that he just took ten dollars from me.

"For protecting your dumb ass. You could have no money now, or ten dollars less," Michael told me, stuffing the money until his pocket.

So much for thinking he was my hero.

Michael offered me his hand and hauled me back onto my feet. The pain in my stomach became so much worse but I tried to push it to the back of my mind as Michael started to walk ahead of me.

I limped after him, holding onto my stomach as pain throbbed throughout it. I didn't want to think of the possible injuries I had. Especially not internal bleeding.

Stop, Gavin. Do you want to throw up in front of Michael and make a bigger fool out of yourself?

I listened to my thought and tried to think of something other than the possible blood leaking throughout my body. When all my thoughts eventually led back to that, I decided to resort to talking to Michael, despite the fact that he'd probably ignore me.

"Hey, do you get into fights often?" I asked.

Michael stopped suddenly and turned his head back to eye me. I knew he was taking note of how I was hunched over and clutching my stomach, probably thinking I was a weakling. Although, he wouldn't be far from the truth with that thought.

"Sometimes. It's mostly just fuckers trying to mug me. It's nothing I can't handle," Michael told me. I nodded and walked a little faster, despite the pain, so I could walk beside him.

"Do you ever get hurt?" I asked.

"Not usually. Once in a while I'll get caught off guard and knocked down but I always have my backup plans for when that happens," Michael told me.

"What's your backup plan?" I asked, beginning to get excited with the amount of information I was getting from Michael.

However, Michael stopped talking after that, obviously feeling he spouted too much information to me.

I sighed and watched as our street came into view. We slowly walked past all the houses until we stopped in front of ours.

I didn't want to part with Michael. I wished that I could go home with him, or he could come home with me. I wanted him to open up to me about his life, about who he was and why he was the way he was. I wanted to ask him what he was going to do with the knife before I got jumped.

I wanted to know who he was.

But Michael didn't want that back.

I watched as Michael started walking back towards his house. I frowned and felt my heart slowly drop as he neglected to say good bye to me.

However, I felt it pick back up when he turned back around.

"Ice your stomach when you get home for about fifteen minutes... And in two days start putting heat on it," Michael told me.

I stood there in awe, wondering what brought about this newfound concern for me. But Michael didn't stick around long enough for me to thank him since he turned around and walked back in the direction of his house.

I smiled to myself and turned back to my house, feeling my heart beat a little faster after each step.
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So, I'm really trying with this story. I've got all these ideas but no motivation to write them... But I'll work on getting them done.
Plus let me know how I'm doing with this. It means a lot whenever I see your feedback and gives me a little motivation to keep writing.
Thanks for reading!