awpoue
Bewildered Beginner
Posts: 1
Likes: 2
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Post by awpoue on May 1, 2004 6:38:35 GMT -5
Woohey! I just discovered this story...it's great!
I really enjoyed that. Keep it up!
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Post by DetectiveDupin on May 10, 2004 13:52:24 GMT -5
Four SCARED
I began putting everything away-I turned the CD player off; I placed the magazine back with the pile of others. I felt like changing the bed clothes-but I knew that was a stupid idea. As I did everything, I thought of what to do. I occasionally looked at my finger. Maybe I should frame him…tell mum that he shoved me back, and I whacked my finger on the bed stool. That would get him away. But what if I was found out…what if he hurt me again for being a snitch. Don’t be scared of him…he’s always so drunk anyway that he’d trip over if he tried again. That was it…maybe he was drunk. I’d best go and make sure now…but I was scared. So what…I walked off the mat, and ventured out of the room, and down the hallway. I walked slower as I arrived at the stairway. I could here mum and Greg talking. I couldn’t here the proper words, just a load of garble from where I was standing, cowering at the top of the stairs. “Pumpkinloveallfixeddoneeasylikethat,” it sounded like Greg was saying, a bunch of words strung together. He mentioned fixing something. Fixing what? I saw mum jabber her mouth in a clearer way back at him, mentioning something congratulating him or something. What the-? Thanking him for staying in my room, and shoving me back? Ah, I guess she didn’t know that, she was thanking him for fixing something, wasn’t she? I took a step back, and leant against the side of the wall, the stairs around the left and the distant chat of Mum and Greg sliding around the banisters. So what was I to do? I had an instinct to wait here, at the top of the stairs, until Greg had gone, or if Mum walked around with him, go downstairs and hang around in the background until she’s alone. Then, I’ll show her my finger-which she DIDN’T see before-downstairs ten minutes ago, and I’ll tell her that Greg did it…I’ll tell her that he was in my room, and I didn’t know what was happening and then…then…um…I told him to get out-in a nice, polite way of course, and then he said no, so I got angry and stuff, then I shouted just a little, and he shoved me back, and I hurt my finger. Yeah, perfect. I looked down at it once more. It was yellow with swell and a pretty ugly sight-not something that a mother would want to know that her boyfriend had done to her son, so that she would dump him. But then, of course, Little Brett Stephenson reared its ugly head. I didn’t know why I was worried about it suddenly and why I was suggesting to not going through with it. Because you’re a coward, you dope. That’s why-live with it. My thoughts flew out, fading into the walls as I heard the word “Bye” or something like that, so I quietly, but quickly, crept to the end of the banister, and watched what Greg and Mum were up to. As I had expected, someone was walking away. I couldn’t tell who it was-just one pair of footsteps walking away, the sound sticking in my ear. I took one step down the staircase, cowering slightly, so that whoever remained at the bottom couldn’t see me. As I turned around the corner of the stairs, I saw that Mum was there alone. I wiped a few beads of sweat from my forehead. Go on Brett. Now. Now. Or Never. It would be too late then. Think about it-Greg could go forever. But I’m scared. Scared of what? The situation. Just go. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. The thoughts messed around my head, shouting and whining at me, as if I had split it two. I closed my eyes, and tried to shake it out, but before I knew it, I had tripped down, shaking myself to the bottom of the stairs, where I lay at Mum’s feet. “Pet!” she squealed, stretching a hand down to help pick my up,” You all right?” “Yeah, yeah,” I replied,” I’m good.” I picked myself up and wiped my hands against my jeans-wiping a small bit of blood away. “You sure?” Mum asked acting like…well, a mum. “Yeah,” I replied,” I’m fine.” At this point, I decided to shoved my hand casually behind my back, so she wouldn’t notice the damage done to my finger. I should have just stood forward and waved the finger around, telling her what he had done, “HEY MUM-LOOK WHAT YOUR BOYFRIEND DID TO ME! LOOK! LOOK!” and he’d be gone. But why didn’t I want to do that. Because it was lying. And lying is bad. Oh please-I could lie. I could go right ahead and tell her that Greg had shoved me back, and broke my finger. Or at least I thought I could. But what if he finds out-he’ll know I’m lying. No he won’t-think about it. He knows he whacked you back. And he didn’t see the finger before… But then, I merely gave mum a small nod, and walked away. I WALKED AWAY-I WALKED AWAY. What a pratt. Why did you walk away Brett? I dunno-I have no clue why I didn’t lie my way out of it. WHY BRETT. Fine…because I’m a FREAKIN’ COWARD…THAT’S WHY. As I walked into the living room, and sat on the sofa. I was pretty damn angry with myself then-you know. I had the choice to get rid of him. But then I thought-what good would that do? Mum would be sad, and alone, and pregnant. So what good would that do. IT WOULD GET RID OF HIM. I watch over and see Greg on the other sofa, swishing a can of beer loosely in his hand, cramped forward, watching the blazing telly. I turned to see what he was watching. Hollyoaks or something-no wait, one of those Australian soaps or something. I turned and peered at him. He knew I was watching, but he kept his figure over by the telly, occasionally looking down at his beer, still swishing as he shook the can. Finally, he turned his head, about a minute later. “What are you looking at?” he snarls. “You,” I reply, just as stern. “Oh, like I didn’t know,” he replied quietly. “You asked,” I said causally and motionless. “Clever bastard,” he whispered. “I’m not being clever,” I said,” I’m answering your question.” Suddenly, the voice of mum broke the friction between us, and we both turned our heads towards the door, moving back into calm positions on the sofa. “I’m just going out,” Mum cried,” Get some vegetables and stuff like that from the Corner Shop. All right?” “Yeah,” I said. “Greg-are you free to help me?” she then asked. Greg shook his head, then realized she was in the other room, and couldn’t see. “No, sorry,” he replied,” I’m just gonna finish this beer and then fix the…sink.” “It needed fixing?” Mum said, and the sound of the porch door opening filled the room,” Okay then-bye!” “Bye,” we both muttered , and then mum left. As soon as the car left the driveway, Greg caved in, lunging off the sofa, dropping the beer on the floor, and grabbing the collar of my t-shirt. “What the-“ I hushed. He slowly held a hand to my mouth. “Be quiet,” he snarled. I didn’t listen to the hint. “GET OFF ME!” I cried, shoving him off. He stumbled back slightly, onto the floor, his butt landing in the pile of split beer. He pulled himself up, and then stood over. He didn’t grab me, but stood there, tapping his feet on the soggy carpet slowly. I continued to sit scared. I’M SOOO TELLING MUM WHEN SHE GETS BACK-SO THE DIRTY SOD CAN GO FOREVER.
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Post by DetectiveDupin on May 10, 2004 13:53:02 GMT -5
“I’m telling mum what you did,” I murmured-pleased with myself for standing up to this. “Tell her what?” he asked suspiciously. I sat on the sofa, scared stiff. But I tried to look calm and cool-arms around the back of the sofa, and legs folded slightly. I probably looked a bit sad, but oh well-Greg got the impression I was calm I guess. “That you pushed me!” I cried, and swung my hand around, so he could see the purple bruising, and the small red lumps of blood. “I did NOT do that!” Greg cried. “Oh yeah?” I asked,” Then how did my finger come like this?” I made sure that he thought he was the cause of it-that he didn’t know about the tree incident. Well-what I told mum. Not the bullying. “I dunno-some kids beat you up?” Greg asked. “Nope-just you!” I cried. “Well then, since you seem to have a clever answer to everything,” Greg snarled,” How did you get that bruising and scratching on your face?” I went blank. I had forgotten about that. Should I tell him the old tree story? Or another lie. No, no, no. Go with the tree story. Then him and mum think the same thing. “A tree-I fell out of it,” I explained. “You hate trees,” Greg replied, talking as if we were best mates. “Well these boys forced me to,” I said. I knew the whole story now-I wasn’t making it up on the spot-so I sounded more sure and confident as I told him. “So how do I know that you didn’t get that bruised finger from that fall then, Brett,” Greg asked, when I had finished the story. “You’ll just have to trust me,” I replied. “No can do,” Greg said. “Well that doesn’t matter,” I said back. I was shaking like a leaf in the wind. Good thing I was sitting, not standing or I would have been on the ground in fear by now. However, down on the sofa, Greg seemed bigger as he stood, breathing out air smelling of old beer. “You’re going down, Greg.” I probably sounded corny then-like something out of James Bond. Of course then, it seemed anything but corny, as I murmured the words to him. He didn’t think so either, as he took a step towards me, ready to gnash or whatever at me. “As soon as Mum gets back, I’ll tell her what you did. I’ll show her the finger.” “And how will she not believe it was because of the fall from that tree?” Greg asked me. “She’ll just have to trust me,” I smirked with a smug smile,” And I know she can do that.” Greg took a step back, and turned, pacing slightly. “Well…how about money?” he asked. “What about it?” I asked suspiciously back, confused. I sat up slightly. “You keep your mouth shut about the whole situation there, and I’ll give you one hundred quid.” He slowed those words down. “You’ll what?” “You heard me. One hundred pounds.” He turned back,” It’s your choice.” ONE HUNDRED POUNDS. GET RID OF HIM-OR KEEP HIM AND GET MONEY. WHAT DO I TAKE…WHAT DO I DO. NO-GET RID OF HIM. HE PROBABLY WON’T EVEN GIVE IT TO YOU. Yeah, that’s right. He’s lying. He wouldn’t. Well maybe he’s telling the truth. “Maybe,” I said,” It depends.” “On what?” he asked, standing forward, looking down at the dark stain now on the carpet. “On whether I can see it now?” I asked. “Well I don’t have it now,” Greg snarled,” But I’ll get it out as soon as I can from the bank.” “Well no,” I said,” I’d rather get rid of you.” “So you won’t take the bribe?” Greg asked, gritting through teeth,” Then I’ll have to just leave…you’ve won, I guess.” But there’s something wrong-something in the air, in his eyes, in his whole expression. “So I can tell Mum?” I asked. “Yeah…but it might be the wrong thing to do,” he replied. “Don’t try the sympathy vote,” I snarled. “I’m not,” Greg,” I’m not that pathetic. It just might be the wrong thing to do.” “And why?” I asked. “Because I could go and see Karl Tyson,” he replied. I sat there, dazed. How did he know about him? So straight away, I asked him, voice shaking and worried. “How do I know him?” Greg asked with a chuckle,” That’s a secret, Bretty boy. Let’s just say I’m around-and I saw him beat you up earlier. “You-you what?” “You heard me,” he said, same as earlier,” So I wouldn’t tell your mother.” “What harm would you do if you saw Karl?” I piped up. “He’s the kid who bullied you,” he mused,” Who BULLIES you, even. And I’ll make sure he’d beat you to a pulp.” “He’d do that anyway,” I replied. “Let’s make this clear,” he said slowly,” You keep quiet to your mother, or I’ll drag your little ass over to Karl, and we’ll beat you. And no one will ever know about that. Perhaps we could leave you in a river or something like that-but whatever happened-we’d make sure you wouldn’t survive. And if Karl isn’t up for it, I’ll gladly do it alone.” WHAT THE HELL. He’s threatening to kill me. HE’S THREATENING TO END MY LIFE…HE’LL KILL ME…HE’LL KILL ME. “You’ll what-“ I asked. “You heard what,” Greg snarled. The sound of the porch door sounded again, and we heard Mum enter the house once more. “Hi you two!” she said, entering the room,” Having a nice manly chat, huh?” she gave a giggle,” Oh, look at that mess on the carpet! I’ll go get a cloth…” She walked off, and me and Greg were alone for another moment. “So remember that,” he muttered, pulling me up to him,” You keep your mouth shut, little salsa, or you’ll find yourself six feet under by next week.” He gave me a wink, then walked out of the room, to tell mum the great story of how he fixed the sink.
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Post by Pucca on May 10, 2004 13:59:54 GMT -5
Ahhh! Woohoo!
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Post by jack2004 on May 10, 2004 14:56:28 GMT -5
what the hell was Greg doing in his room?
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Post by DetectiveDupin on May 10, 2004 14:58:47 GMT -5
It'll all fit in soon enough...
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Post by xangelkimzx on May 12, 2004 13:02:33 GMT -5
Wow George, that is great! As always... very well done... It is like a cross between the books Loser by Jerry Spinelli, The Curious Incident of The Dog In The Night-Time by Mark Haddon and one of them really good mysterious and adventure films. *claps* Yay!
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Post by DetectiveDupin on May 12, 2004 13:08:08 GMT -5
Thanks Kimia....both those books rocked.
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Post by DetectiveDupin on May 19, 2004 11:23:39 GMT -5
Five THE TOUR GUIDE
After watching some more telly, and avoiding Greg as much as I could, the day became pretty boring. My mind was all messed up throughout the hours-I can’t remember exactly what I was thinking about. It seemed so shocking that Greg had threatened to kill me if I tell mum that I guess I just kinda shut off. Do I call the police: THIS IS DOMESTIC VIOLENCE PEOPLE. But what if he was joking? That seemed likely-that’s what he’d do, mess around. But then, what if I tell Mum, and it turns out he wasn’t lying at all. That’s what I remember thinking in those next few hours -that’s all. So then, later that day, I was sitting on the sofa-more like sprawled out in a relaxed position, with a glass of water in my hand loosely swinging-like Greg’s had earlier that day. I stopped, realizing that. I don’t want to be like Greg at all. Suddenly, the door gave a small creak, and I got ready to leave the room. Greg had been trodding in all day-sometimes to get something or other, and sometimes to get me to move, to annoy me, knowing I’m finally relaxing and stopped all thoughts about him. But that time, it wasn’t him at all. It was Mum, so as I noticed, I returned to my old position. “Hey dear,” she said in a kind voice, sitting down on the other sofa, panting a little and holding her big fat stomach as she did so. “Hey,” I replied,” All right?” “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said,” Good thing Greg’s here. He’s doing wonders for us whilst I’m struggling.” I bit my lip. “Anyway, I was just coming in to check on you-see if you’re all right yourself,” she said. “Yeah, yeah,” I said,” I’m all right-a bit tired.” “Okay then,” Mum replied,” It’s nice to just mope around like that some times, isn’t it? Especially the first day after school, huh?” “Yeah,” I said,” It’s nice.” She looked forward slightly, clutching her belly again. “Is everything all right?” she asked again. “Yeah, you just asked-“ “I mean, about the injuries from the tree?” she confirmed. GO BRETT. SHOW HER YOUR FINGER. SHOW HER WHAT GREG ‘DID’. “Yeah.” I said. BLOODY COWARD “Sure? I could take you to the doc-“ “No, no. I said I’m fine.” My voice wasn’t stern, but Mum obviously picked up the irritated tone, and left, with a small smile as she looked towards me, and a plain frown as she faced the door. I gave her a smile back, but by then, she had already left. A while later, about forty five minutes or so-I didn’t have a watch, and the memory is a bit hazy, but anyway, around then, the doorbell rang. I wasn’t in the mood to get up and get it, and I knew it wouldn’t be for me unless it was Karl, who hadn’t ‘had enough’ with me or whatever he called it, so I remained perched on the sofa, as I heard Mum walk towards the door. The porch door swung open, and then the quieter noise of the front door, before I heard the vague noise of people speaking, before the porch door opened again, after swinging shut, and then Mum returning into the living room once more. “Brett-it’s for you,” she alarmed me. I gave a small sigh. “Sure,” I said,” Who is it?” “I don’t recognize him,” Mum admitted,” Small kid-big clothes for such hot weather.” Lewis. “Tell him I’m just coming,” I replied, pulling myself up from the sofa. Mum gave a small frown, which said “DO IT YOURSELF, YOU LAZY LUMP.” Or, “DO I REALLY NEED TO DO THAT?” which makes you feel really bad, or is meant to or whatever. I gave a small chuckle, then left the living room, then down the hall, and then opened the loud porch door, and found myself into the porch, the front door open, face to face with Lewis again. “Hey Brett,” he said, grinning. “Hey…” I muttered, and then looked up at him. He was still wearing the heavy jumper, with his glasses now neat, and the jeans tightened up slightly. “So…what do you want?” I probably sounded rude, which wasn’t what I intedned, but Lewis gave that hurt look. “I didn’t mean to sound rude,” I explained. “It’s okay,” he muttered,” I was just checking if you got out of it all alright.” “Oh yeah,” I replied, with a smile,” Thanks for what you did. I wouldn’t go around the park very often though.” Lewis gave a small chuckle. “Sorry to sound…invading or anything,” he said,” But could I come in? Even if it’s just the porch-there are rumours that Karl’s looking for me.” “Sure,” I said, laughing slightly at his insecurity. I stepped out of the way, and Lewis entered the porch. Then, he shut the door slowly, as I opened the porch door that led into the hallway. “Come in,” I said,” This is my house.” Lewis thanked me quietly, and stepped through into the hallway. He looked around-at the red carpet, then at the beige walls and the strange ceiling with loads of little rocky thingy’s or whatever on it. “Nice place,” he said,” Better then mine.” “What’s yours like?” I asked, stepping in and letting the porch door shut. “Pokey, really,” Lewis said, looking down at the carpet,” And really messy. My parent’s are a bit…I dunno. Just unlike me.” “Maybe you’re adopted,” I joked. Lewis gave a small laugh-a high one, like nuahnuahnuah. “Wouldn’t surprise me,” he then added. He turned around to face me. “God, you got it off bad, didn’t you?” he said, looking at my face. “Yeah,” I said, and then shrugged,” It could have been worse.” “Yeah.” “If you hadn’t whacked him in the face,” I said with a snigger. “Uhuh,” Lewis replied,” But he’s probably getting pretty insane, rushing around the village for me.” “Probably with a chainsaw,” I laughed. Lewis joined in again, with that nuahnuahnuah laugh. “So…” he said. “Want me to show you around?” I asked, bored. “Sure-yeah, that’d be great,” Lewis replied. I led him down to the living room, and swung open the door. “This is the living room,” I said, and led Lewis further into the room,” This is where I spend most of the time really. Lying down on the sofa, watching telly kinda thing.” “Cool.” I walked further into the room, showing him random things, until everything there was pretty much cleared up. “Let’s move onto the kitchen,” I said, showing Lewis back to the door. We entered the hallway, and continued down, until the end, where the stairs led up right in front of us, and the door on the left led us to the kitchen, that had the conservatory behind it. I opened the kitchen door, and slowly walked in, feet tapping on the tiled floor, Lewis following behind me. “This is the kitchen,” I said. Haha, I was like a tour guide or something. I could just imagine me standing at the head of an open top bus with a microphone, looking jolly and reading out ‘to our left, the sink, and to our right the oven, and the door to the conservatory’ On the bus there was Lewis, Karl, Harriet, Greg and Mum, and other random people who I didn’t care about. But then, the thoughts ended very suddenly. “This is where-“ I said, but was cut of. Greg stood there, leaning against a cupboard, a new can of beer by his side, and a cigarette in his hand. “Got a friend?” he sneered,” Finally.” Shows that Mum wasn’t around. I veered round, like a motarbike at top speed, and left, tugging Lewis by the jumped with me, leaving the room, and shutting the door. “Bye Brett!” Greg called in his sinister tone,” Remember about your mother.” I gulped slightly, and sat down on the bottom step, my chin in my hands. “Brett? What’s wrong?” Lewis asked. I gave a long sigh. “Brett?” I stood up again. “Come with me, Lewis,” I said,” Somewhere more private. Then I’ll tell you.” I made way for him to get up the stairs, then followed behind him. “Who is that? Your-“ “When we’re up Lewis.” “Wait...” “You wait. When we’re up-in my room.” Lewis gave a sigh, and then was quiet until we arrived at the top, and led him around the corner to my room at the end. At least no Greg this time. As we arrived in, I shut the door, and Lewis sprawled out, happy that he could finally talk. “Who’s he? Why are you scared? What about your mother? What’s going on, Brett?!” “He wants to kill me,” I hushed quietly, yanking him into the room, and throwing myself on the bed.
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Post by DetectiveDupin on May 19, 2004 11:24:29 GMT -5
Lewis narrowed one eye up. “What?” “He wants to kill me,” I repeated, panting,” He was threatening me and stuff like that this morning, I was scared like salsa.” Lewis gave a small panting noise. “Why?” “Because he was threatening me…he was bloody scary Lewis.” “No-why does he want to kill you? Why is he threatening you?” Lewis corrected, standing back. I pulled myself up to a sitting position on the side of the bed. “Because he whacked me Lewis. HE WHACKED ME.” “Why?” “I caught him in my room, using my stuff, and I shouted at him,” I explained,” Then he shoved me back. He says if I tell mum about it, I’m dead.” Lewis gave a small shiver. “But why was he in your room in the first place?” Lewis asked. I gave a shrug, and lay back again. “I dunno…it’s creepy though,” I replied,” Maybe we should find out.” Lewis frowned. “That’s easier said then done,” he muttered. “Isn’t everything?” I asked with a chuckle. Lewis shrugged, and then walked slightly to the other end of the room. “Nice room,” he said, running his finger up and down the wall, changing the subject completely. Yeah, like I’m suddenly gonna talking about the interior design suddenly. I need help Lewis, and no, not deciding what colour curtains to buy. “Yeah,” I shrugged,” What’s yours like?” Lewis shrugged, and then shook his head. “Crappy,” he explained,” Small…messy. Crappy.” He gave a small nod, and then suddenly lifted his arms up. At first, I didn’t have a clue what he was doing, but then I realized that he was taking his jumper off. He was wearing a dark t-shirt underneath, and then shoved the heavy jumper down onto the carpet. Uh…don’t go messing my room, mate. I didn’t really care though, just seemed a bit rude. “So what should I do?” I suddenly piped up. “Huh?” “What should I do? You know, about Greg and stuff.” “Oh…,” he spends a long time on the one word, like he cares a lot. Maybe he did-it just seemed fake though,” I dunno.” Great advice-A+++++++ WOULD DO BUSSINESS AGAIN. “Seriously here Lewis,” I said,” I need your help.” “ I don’t have any advice though,” Lewis pointed out. “Please…you must have some. What would you do if you were in my shoes?” I asked. “I’d think about it,” Lewis said,” Then decide myself so I don’t put my best friend in a tricky position.” Tricky position? Whatever, if you think your in a tricky position, then what about me? Besides, since when were we best friends? I don’t even like him. Yeah, since when did I like him anyway? Since he whacked Karl, and saved you a hell of a lot more beating, that’s when. “Sorry,” I said,” I’m just…depressed about it.” “I can imagine,” Lewis replied, rolling his eyes. “Yeah.” “Yeah.” At that, we heard a squeak of the door hinge being twisted, and our heads turned around to see the door open, and the friendly face of Mum peep through. “Brett, there’s someone-“ Mum started, then spotted Lewis next to me,” Oh! He’s still here…a friend…that’s nice. Hi…what’s your name?” She turned to Lewis. “Lewis,” he said, blushing slightly. “Nice to meet you,” Mum said, giving a nice smile,” Anyway, there’s someone ELSE at the door for you. Golly, you’re popular today!” With that, she stood aside, making way for me to walk past, and I did so, Lewis behind me. I arrived at the door, and suddenly felt a huge hole smack into me. I felt my arms drop to the ground, and my legs smash, all the bones cracking into hundreds of pieces. I saw Karl. “F…fu…Karl,” I murmured. I heard the quiet pattering footsteps of Lewis behind me. Karl couldn’t see him. I turned, and swung the porch door open, to try and get Lewis away unseen, but as I rushed out, he was just at the door, and we smacked right into each other, and ended up in a heap on the doorway, the door swinging back against the side of us. I gave a small scared, breathless noise, as Karl leaned over. “So this is where you’ve been hiding,” he sneered, prodding Lewis’ glasses off his face onto the floor,” Berk and Berk together…should have figured it out before.” He gave a sarcastic, typical sigh, then took a step into the porch, and grabbed Lewis’ collar, tugging him away from me on the floor. I instantly lunged forward, and grabbed Lewis’ other arm-his right one. I tugged it back, and Karl pulled harder, now letting go of the collar, and moving on to the left arm. Lewis gave a small squeal as we both pulled, before I realized that Karl would get him soon. My arms were aching, and I pulled with less strength, whilst Karl looked so high with stamina that it seemed he was running by electricity. I looked around-maybe my mind could beat his strength. But just as my thoughts went off pulling to look around, Karl gave one huge tug, and Lewis sprawled from my hands, and landed by Karl’s feet. Karl gave a small evil smile to himself. “Lewis,” I muttered, and looked around. At this point, Karl gave a large swing of his leg, and kicked Lewis hard in the stomach. “Lewis!” I cried, seeing my friend’s face scrunched up in pain. I looked around the messy porch. There were all kinds of crappy things, but the object nearest to me was a paintbrush, and a loosely open can of paint. It would do, I thought, and then grabbed the can off paint, swinging the lid of completely, and then shook it, so that the purple mixture flew through the air for about a seconds, before it plastered itself on the first thing it hit-Karl. Karl stumbled back at this, moving away from Lewis-who held his head up slightly to see what was going on-and tripped back onto the hard sloped driveway. I grabbed Lewis’ arm suddenly, letting go of the can of paint, and then yanked him into the porch. I let go of him, and he landed into the door, then onto the floor, reeling with the pain in his back from the small beating. I then yanked the door round, and shoved it shut, then reached for the key, hanging in its holder on the left wall, and locked it tight. I sighed in relief, and sat down next to Lewis. I could here Karl picking himself up, and then shouting loudly from the other side of the door. He’d look a mess, I thought. I saw Lewis, and gave him a small smile. He was panting, but managed to give one in return. “Thanks,” he said, still huffing. “Your welcome,” I said,” I mean, you saved me from him earlier.” Lewis nodded, and then rubbed his back slightly. “You got a worse beating then me though,” he replied,” I mean…you’re face is half purple!” He gave a small chuckle, and I joined in. “I guess so,” I agreed,” But you got done pretty bad as well.” “YOULLPAYYOUIDIOTSDIEDIEIDIETWAZACKS,” Karl called from behind the door. I stood up, wiping a splash of paint from my shorts. “I don’t think we should stick around here much longer for now,” I said,” We should go now, and return when Karl has gone.” “But how do we get out without him seeing us?” Lewis asked. “We have a back door-and a gate from the garden,” I explained. “Ah, I see,” Lewis said,” But where do we go to?” “Somewhere that Karl wouldn’t go,” I answered, as Lewis stood up. “Any suggestions?” Lewis then asked. “Nah,” I replied,” You?” “I’m thinking the beach,” Lewis said with a shrug,” It might be pretty busy today with this weather-loads of witnesses if he finds us, and it’ll be hard for him to spot us.” “Yeah,” I said,” That’s pretty good.” “Uhuh,” Lewis agreed, and then added,” Plus, we could always hide in that maze of sand dunes at the back of the beach if he DOES come.” I gave a small shudder. I ahted the sand dunes: the ones in our beach were really high, with loads of bumps and twists. It reminded me of roller coasters. But I didn’t say anything to Lewis just then-the beach sounded fine, and I didn’t want to say anything that might turn his opinion around. “All right then,” he said, pushing the porch doorway open, showing the hallway. I walked through, and he followed. “To the beach.” After calling to mum I was going to the beach and her replying that it was okay, we walked around to the conservatory, and left into the garden, then right to the end, where the redwood gate stood, and left, heading around to the little beach at the edge of the village, as Karl waited outside, thinking we were still there.
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