Chapter no 7

Once in the life of every person, good or bad, but mostly good, comes a time when they start to question the superiority of dear humans walking around on this dear earth. Question the benevolence and its meaning to dear humans. And they came out disappointed. This was my moment to be disappointed, and I really was.

When I said I was disappointed at humans, this is what I mean. People see a woman being groped by three men, hurting her, and probably will kill her, and instead of even trying to help they run away. No one even thought of calling the police. and if someone did, where are the police?

Is humanity doomed? I was contemplating believing the fact that humans are still humans when I saw something, more precisely someone.

But was I the one wrong here, asking people to endanger their lives to save mine?

The entire hall was almost empty, and I was helpless and hopeless. I felt like a watermelon was shoved down my throat, trying to control the bulging of tears in my eyes. I was fighting them. If I am gonna die, let me die in glory.

That was when I caught glimpse of a man in my peripheral, standing there with two guns, behind the bar and eyeing me. The guns aimed at me. In a split second, Just as I took a breath, The gunshot rang in the air. This resulted in me screaming and the man behind me lose his grip on me and groaned. I tucked down and moved to the side. Everything was in such a hurry that I felt dizzy.

The man holding me was on the floor, his pants which were black soaking with a liquid, dripping on the floor. Red liquid.

There were now echoing sounds of glass shattering, groans, gunshots, and loud music in the air. Beneath me was the blood of the man who was holding me. I had my ears covered and was standing by the wall, feeling nauseous and dizzy. I wanted the voice to stop, and the squeeze in my throat to free up. I was starting to panic.

Everything stopped. All the voices, and all the movements, except for loud music. I tried to breathe in and out, deeply and calmly. My heart was going thunk thunk...thunk thunk in my chest, and I didn't like the suffocation it was causing.

I felt a hand and immediately jerked it away, my hand colliding with short facial hair.

My eyes widen at the realization that I just hit him. The man who saved me. The man who I have a crush on. The man behind the bar.

His face was tilted to the side with the impact of the slap. Shit! He slowly moved his head to look at me. His eyes bloodshot, His jaw tight. He seemed like a villain straight out of a damned world. He seemed like he would kill me just now. I could practically see a blood vessel pumping in between his eyebrows. Gross.

"I...I am sorry," I whispered.

Instead of replying, or moving any facial muscle at all, He held my hand and pulled me with him, leading us to the outside. I followed him quietly, ashamed and tired at the same time.

I tried to tilt my head to look back, at the disaster behind me, but a voice caught my attention.

"Don't look, You'll puke," He said to me and I complied because I knew he was right. I have already filed my quota of making a fool out of myself today.

Just as we reached outside, I saw three cop cars pulling over. The show was over and they were here now. That was when I caught a glance of the father. He was horrified, running and stumbling towards us.

Panic registered over his features when he came closer and the bartender left my hand. Why haven't I asked for his name yet?

My father tugged at me and held me behind him. I was two inches shorter than him and a few inches he was wider than me. I had a clear view of the bartender's face over my father's shoulder.

"YOU! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" My father yelled at him, making me and him both frown at the same time.

"I work here," He said calmly.

"What?" Who...,"

"Dad he saved me!" I said loudly so he would hear me. He usually loses his hearing when he is angry.

My father tilted his head at me, narrowing his eyes.

"If it weren't for him those men would've taken me," I said.

"Those men?" Father asked.

I gestured towards the entrance of the bar.

"Go home, Two cars will be following you back," He ordered me. I opened my mouth to say something but thought better of it and turned away with one last glance at my Knight in a black shirt and jeans.

On my ride home, I was afraid of so many things. I was afraid that I had almost been kidnapped or maybe killed today. I was afraid that my father had been right all this time that people need security. I was afraid that now he will never, ever let me leave the house without a dozen heavily built men guarding me against every side. And I was afraid that I won't be able to make him agree that I don't need one. or that I only need one.

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Arthur eyed the person in front of him, The same man who tried to kill him a few days ago. The same person he closely looked at for the entire fight. The only person to ever impress him with his combat skills.

"Are you trying to kill me again?" Arthur asked him, eyeing his face cautiously for any expression of truth, "Getting at me through my daughter?"

"No," A simple one-word answer was all he got.

"What is your name? Beside The Reaper?" Arthur asked.

He raised his eyes at the bold question and took a few seconds before replying, "Mason,"

"Is that your real name?" Arthur asked.

"Yes,"

"Mason, Why are you here?"

"I am a bartender here,"

"You are an assassin," Arthur pressed the word assassin, reminding the person in front of him of all his pasts.

"Not now, I quit, after you railed Alexender," An emotionless face was kept the entire conversation.

Arthur eyed him up and down for a while. Can he trust him? And a bartender, a job title like that was not made for him. He is an assassin and the best one. He needs to be an assassin, If not to Alexander, why not to him?

"I would love to have a personal interview with you," Arthur told him.

"Why?"

"About your job, I cannot let an assassin work in my bar until I truly know his intentions,"

"My intentions are serving drinks, no more," Mason replied.

"That you will convince me in our meeting, Tomorrow here in the bar at my office,"

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I opened the door to my room and jumped in, locking it behind me. Everything that happened today has my nerves wired and on high alert. I had two choices now, either to be afraid and feel stupid Or be too stupid to be afraid. I looked at Chip in her cage, running on the wheel. She stopped to look at me and twitched her whiskers.

I felt like she was asking me about what caused me to look so horrible, I eyed the mirror in front of me, My color was pale, my hair was disheveled, and my shirt is torn from the side. My mascara had formed two black dried-up rivers down my cheek.

I did an 'Ugh!' and lay on my bed. I told Chip about my day. Chip seemed less interested in my story because she continued running the wheel while I spoke but I told her everything still. It was like therapy which costs a lot nowadays.

After I was done, I didn't feel any better. I still thanked Chip and gave her a hamster biscuit. She sniffed the biscuit, looked at me, and ran away over her wheel. She seemed health conscious so, I left her to it and went to the bathroom to take a shower, and erase the memory of almost being killed today.