Another attempt at Bloody, Brawling Business CH1 (part 1/2)

The feeling that came with knowing someone would happily burn the world for his sake was the most precious feeling to Newton. It made him willing to do the same for her. If ever it came to it he’d burn everyone's world including his own just to save hers. Newton feared, however, that even if he were to go to that extent, even if he could, it wouldn’t be enough. He sat, drenched, clutching his phone and staring rapt into the bright screen in the shade of the night. 

  The suburban Sydney streets were quiet if not for the grumbling of the cars passing by. Shielding his phone with the left side of his unzipped jacket, he braced, closing his eyes as another one sped by. The water hit his face. He dried his eyelids on his left sleeve and watched from the bench as the car left, and with its tail lights towards him, shrunk into the distance.

  After confirming that the coast was clear, Newton brought his phone back out and read the new messages as they appeared. 

“Feeling way better. 

They’re filling out the paperwork to discharge me right now. 

I’ll be back at my place before the sun comes up.”

“Can I come visit?”

  Newton heard another car coming so he covered his phone again and flinched as the water came back for another round. When the car passed he read the new messages through the blur of his wet eyes. 

“No. It’s too much of a hassle to come and get you.

Besides, mum and dad would definitely not like that.

Gotta go, reception wants me.

Get home safe!”

  Newton put his phone away. He thought about how scared he was when the situation looked so much worse than it turned out to be. A chuckle of relief escaped him, then a squeezing anger rose from his throat as he remembered where he was going. He needed to head back home to his parents, the ones who didn’t care. Gazing down the dark, dimly lit street, he realised, as he stared at it from behind, that the bus he planned to catch had just ignored him. 

The walk home was going to be around thirty minutes. The bus Newton had missed was the last one of the night and it was too late for him to call his parents to get him. Donning his hood, he covered the back of his neck from the pricking of the sprinkling rain. 

  Wishing he could be at Scarlet’s house, he couldn’t take his mind off her. He’d never visited her in her home. Even though she was his sister, they were never allowed to see each other. She’d been kicked out of the house by his parents before he was even born and been kept well away from him.

  The first time he could remember meeting her was ten years ago. His parents had to leave the country on short notice. They couldn’t afford to take him, so they left him with his grandma who Scarlet was looking after at the time. 

  Under the guise of his auntie, as was ordered by their parents, his sister had treated him to a week of fun and sweets, which had been effective in leaving her imprinted onto him. However, there was a specific quality she had, that to Newt, made her the most beloved person in the world. It was her ability to instantly understand what he was feeling at a glance and without so much as a mistake, attend to him accordingly. 

  Her care was something that left an insatiable void in his heart after they were separated by his parents the next week. From that day he spent years without her. Though she never left the back of his thoughts, she slowly shrunk in his mind, leaving him alone with that cold void and no clue what to put in it.

  Until, during his teenage years, Newt had gotten back in touch with her. His life had lit back up. They’d hang out on weekends under the noses of their parents, sneaking into areas they shouldn’t and staying up well into the night with no consideration for their responsibilities the next day.

  It was impossible to tell Scarlet was nearly thirty six years old the way her face looked so much younger than it should. She also had the strength to climb mountains and the energy of a caffeinated toddler, whenever she wasn’t lying in a hospital bed that is.

  The rain started hammering down way harder than before and Newton could feel the water seeping through the layers of his clothing. Newt was only a couple of streets away from home when, through his hood, he just barely made out the muffled sound of shoes pounding against the pavement.

  He turned to look behind him as someone ran past, shoving him to the side. Newt stumbled, his foot sliding against the pavement, bringing him to his hands. He regained his balance, standing just in time to hear the person call out to him.

  “He-elp,” the person's voice quivered. “Woah!” SLAP! The person slipped and fell to the ground.

 Someone else was approaching. It was a man sending curses and threats their way as he bounded towards them.

  Newton stepped in front as the man was about to pass by. They collided, sending him falling back. Sliding across the wet concrete he watched the man trip and fall into a bush next to the footpath.  Newt got to his feet first. He stood, screening the quivering person from the raging man.

  The man was big, tall and wide. The street light illuminated his left cheek which was covered in a swirly tattoo that extended onto the bridge of his pointy nose. The man rose from the bush, still enraged. 

  “Piss off!” he said as he tried to walk through Newt.

  The little patience he had seemed to snap when Newt persisted to keep in his way. He put his massive hand on Newt’s face and shoved him to the side but Newt came back with a shoulder charge which the man didn’t seem to budge to.

  Newt took a step back and threw a fist at the man's nose. The man grabbed Newt's wrist and pulled it down. Releasing Newt's arm, the man slapped Newt across his face and punched him in the gut. 

  The jerking force of the arm pull made Newt’s trap seize up. He could feel acid edging out of his stomach and decided to release it, throwing it up all over the man’s pants and shoes. 

  Almost instantly, Newt felt the man's fist hit his face. The teeth along the side of his mouth lacerated the inside of his cheek. He didn’t get any time to breathe before he was lifted by his shirt and thrown on the ground. The man sent the heels of his vomit laced shoes into Newt's stomach and ribs. They kept coming, driving more vomit into Newt's throat. 

  The vomit mixed with the blood in Newt’s mouth while other little bits lodged themselves into the entrance of his airways. Only when he started coughing up the vile mixture of blood and bile did the onslaught cease.

  “Your friend’s run away,” said the man, and after a brief pause, “Mind your own next time.”

  The man walked off back down the street. Newt, still coughing, got on his hands and knees and tried his best to expel the impurities from his mouth and gut. From each cough shot pain from his ribs highlighting a couple of spots he suspected to be broken. Newton didn’t mind it. He’d succeeded in protecting the victim.

  When his breath had finally steadied, and the stinging in his throat and mouth had died down, a whisper came from behind the wall of one of the nearby front yards.

  “Is he gone?” it asked.

  “Yeah,” Newton replied.

  A boy came out from behind the wall. He looked younger than Newton but not by a lot. Newton knew instantly that it was the quivering person who’d been running away from the man. 

  “Thanks for saving me, you did so well fending that guy off,” said the boy, walking over to him. He stood over Newton, hands in the pockets of his jumper.

  “I think my ribs-”

  “I’m Ferdinand,” the boy cut him off.