Kayla’s POV”Well, look what we have here,” the first guy sneered.
“Hand over the bag, sweetie.
Nice and easy, and nobody gets hurt.”
”No!
Leave me alone!
Please” I screamed, clutching the straps of my bag, trying to move past them.
“Hey Bitch!” the second guy snarled.
He lunged forward, grabbing the strap of my bag and yanking it with brutal force.
I refused to let go.
I pulled back, kicking and screaming, but he was too strong.
With a sharp movement, he pulled a sharp pocket knife from his jacket.
“Let go or I’ll slice you open!” he yelled.
“No!” I sobbed, gripping the bag tighter.
In a flash of pain, he swiped the knife downward.
I felt a stinging tear rip across my wrist, followed instantly by a warm gush of blood soaking through my sleeve.
I gasped, the shock of the pain making my knees weaken.
My grip loosened.
“Got it—” the thief started to grin, pulling the bag.
CRACK!
A heavy sound echoed through the alley, like a baseball bat slamming into a watermelon.
Before the first thief could finish his sentence, his eyes rolled back, and he dropped straight down onto the pavement like a sack of potatoes, unconscious.
The second thief froze, his eyes widening in terror as he looked down at his partner, then snapped his head up.
“What the—”
SWISH—CRACK.
A second heavy blow caught the second thief square across the head, sending him spinning backward before he crashed against the brick wall and slid down into the dirt, out cold.
I slowly raised my eyes.
Standing right behind them, holding a wooden baseball bat over her shoulder with a dangerous swagger, wearing a biker jacket and a look of pure seriousness, was none other than Sarah.
Removing a stray strand of hair out of her face, she looked down at the two thieves on the ground, then slowly shifted her eyes up to meet mine.
I stood there in the dark alleyway, holding my bleeding wrist, staring at Sarah like she was a ghost.
My brain couldn’t quite connect the angry, bitter girl who had cursed me out a few weeks ago with the person standing here right now holding a wooden baseball bat.
Sarah dropped the bat against her shoulder, letting out a sharp breath.
She looked down at the two thieves unconscious on the concrete, then back at me.
Her expression was hard, but her eyes gave away a flicker of worry.
“Are you just going to stand there bleeding all over the pavement, or are you going to say something?” Sarah asked, her voice cracking slightly through her tough front.
I swallowed hard, the shock finally starting to fade enough for my voice to work.
“Thank you, Sarah.”
She rolled her eyes and kicked a beer can out of her way.
“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t go walking around this stupid neighborhood alone at night anymore. Everyone knows these alleys aren’t safe after dark.”
She turned on her heel to go away, her heavy boots clicking against the ground as she started to walk away toward the main street.
Panic flared in my chest.
My apartment was blocks away, my wrist was dripping blood, and the thought of being alone again made me sick.
“Wait,” I called out, my voice small.
Sarah stopped.
She didn’t turn around right away, but her shoulders tightened.
“Can I… can I spend the night at your place?” I asked, my pride finally breaking down completely.
“Just for tonight. My wrist hurts, and I don’t want to go back to that empty apartment.”
She stood still for a long second.
Then, slowly, she turned back around.
She looked at my pale face, the blood soaking through my sleeve, and let out a long sigh that sounded defeated.
“Come on. Let’s get that wrist patched up before you pass out on me.”
Ten minutes later, we were inside Sarah’s apartment.
It was cozy, smelling faintly of vanilla candles and coffee.
She sat me down on her kitchen stool, pulled out a first aid kit from under the sink, and carefully cleaned the cut on my wrist before wrapping it tightly with clean bandage.
She went into the kitchen, heated up some water, and handed me a warm mug of coffee.
I held the mug in my hands, feeling the heat seep into my freezing fingers.
“So,” Sarah said, leaning against the counter and crossing her arms.
“You look like absolute hell. Want to tell me what happened? And don’t leave out the part about why you were walking through a shady alley at midnight.”
I took a shaky sip of the coffee and poured my heart out.
I told her about getting the job at Glow and Grace, about the miserable influencer Stella Vance, the coffee incident, the fake fall, and Brenda firing me on the spot because she was terrified of a lawsuit.
By the time I finished, Sarah was gripping the edge of the counter so hard her knuckles were white.
Her face was flushed with genuine anger.
“Are you kidding me?” Sarah snapped, her voice rising.
“Some stuck up brat pours hot coffee on you, throws a tantrum like a toddler, and the manager gave you a leave just to save her own studio?
If I were you, I wouldn’t even step foot back in that stupid workplace.
They don’t deserve you.”
”I needed the money, Sarah,” I whispered, looking down at my coffee.
“I know, I know,” she muttered.
“Still makes my blood boil though.”
She hadn’t even finished talking when a sudden, violent wave of nausea hit the back of my throat.
My stomach twisted into a hard, painful knot.
Without a word, I dropped the mug, shoved my chair back, and ran down the hallway toward the bathroom.
I barely made it to the toilet before I lost everything I had eaten that day, vomiting violently until my ribs ached and my eyes watered.
Heavy footsteps echoed on the tile, and Sarah appeared in the doorway, her face pale with panic.
“Kayla? Oh shit, are you okay?” She rushed over, pulling my hair back with one hand and rubbing my back with the other.
“Did you eat something bad? What’s wrong?”
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, leaning back against the bathtub, gasping for air.
“I don’t know. I just… I ate some broccoli earlier, and I felt so sick. I hate broccoli anyway.”
Sarah stared down at me, her eyebrows furrowing as a strange, calculating look crossed her face.
She didn’t say anything for a moment, but I could see she was not convinced it was broccoli that caused it.