"Hey, Cat, wait up!" I heard a voice call behind me.
I turned to see one of the boys' I was playing baseball with running toward me.
"You heading home?" Carlos asked.
"Yeah, it's not far," I said.
"I'll walk you."
I smiled graciously, adjusting the bag that had my baseball gear in. The catcher's gear was heavy, but I wouldn't let him carry the over-sized bag.
"You just moved here from Texas, right? How are you liking it?"
In truth, I wasn't. My dad was transferred from Houston to Cincinnati in June. I wasn't looking forward to starting a new school year with a bunch of kids I didn't know, but playing ball helped me get introduced to the neighborhood.
"It's alright. Different," I elected to say.
I was counting down the days until we would move back to Houston. Dad promised I would begin my senior year in my old high school. Just one year, he promised me. One was more than enough.
Carlos walked with me until I started down an alleyway.
"Cat, not that way," he shook his head.
"No, it's okay. This is a short cut," I insisted.
"You don't want to go that way. There's a gang who hangs out down there."
I rolled my eyes. Surely he had to be joking.
"I'm serious, Cat. Let's go the long way."
"You go. I'll be fine."
"Suit yourself."
It didn't take me long to wish I had heeded Carlos' advice. I had been walking for ten minutes when I heard the sound of men laughing and cheering. I ducked behind a dumpster, peaking around a corner.
Sure enough, it looked like two guys were beating up a teenager. I turned to head back the opposite way, but was suddenly face-to-face with two burly men.
"Look what we gots here. Did the little bird lose her way?" one of them called to me.
I slowly unzipped my bag and pulled out my baseball bat.
"I just want to get home," I said.
"Don't we all, little bird. Don't we all," the other licked his lips.
"Bring her over here and let's have some fun," one of the guys behind me called.
I swung my bat, making them chuckle.
"Oh, you have some fire. I like that," one of the thugs ran his tongue across his yellowed teeth.
I did the only stupid thing I could think of. I attempted to run. I turned as fast as I could, but was caught by one of the guys beating on the teenager.
"Where do you think you're going?" I was asked as I was thrown into the wall, dropping my bat in the process.
"Leave her alone!" I heard someone shout.
Several guys chuckled. "Aww, did we stumble across Dean's little bird? Is that why you were here?" the guy snarled in my ear, ripping at my baseball shirt.
"Leave me alone," I shoved hard against his chest, but he didn't move.
I cried out in shock and pain as he grabbed a fistful of my hair, jerking my head to the side. Teeth scrapped against my skin as fingers bit into my flesh.
"You are a pretty young thing, aren't you?"
"What would you say, Cal? She can't be more than sixteen."
"Is that right? Are you as flawless as you look?"
I cried as more of my shirt was ripped. I closed my eyes, not believing what was happening to me.
I heard one of the attackers cry out and suddenly I was free.
"Run!" someone grabbed me by the hand and jerked me from the wall.
We bolted down the alley, and thankfully the gang either gave up pursuit or couldn't keep up. My savior pulled me to the stop next to a swing set in the park near my house, both of us gasping for breath.
"Th-thank you," I said.
"Are you okay?"
I turned into the bluest pair of eyes I had ever seen. He looked about my age, with dirty blonde hair that hung passed his eyes. He was skinny and bloodied, but right now was looking at me in concern.
I looked down and could see why. My shirt was in tatters and blood was splattered on my jeans. Thankfully it wasn't mine.
"Yes, thanks to you. I'm Catrina Phillips. Friends call me Cat."
"Dean Ambrose," the boy flashed me a grin.
