I DO NOT OWN SHUGO CHARA OR ANYTHING ELSE UNFORTUNATELY...

Don't Daydream in an Alley

Chapter 1…

I walked through the alley way, completely devoid of all thoughts about the alley clichés and horror stories that surrounded any child who grew up around civilization. Sure, I heard the footsteps behind me but never in all of my life did I ever think that I could be bested by some guy. All those CSI shows showed stupid girls who got themselves secluded while running from a bad guy, and I sure as heck wasn't gonna do that… but I was already doing it….

The two pairs of footsteps behind grew louder and before I could scream or run, my fright-ridden legs stopped of their own accord. One bumped into my back. Goosebumps waved over my body with the shiver that erupted involuntarily. I turned around slowly, my face a liar, but my only hope.

"Is there a reason you're following me?" OK, so in retrospect, that probably wasn't the best thing I could've managed, but it escaped regardless.

"Of course there's a reason, sweetheart." The gooney to my right replied, his voice caked with veiled enthusiasm.

"Well…?" I prompted, but again my legs had locked up. I was terrified.

"Don't worry," oh yeah 'cause I'm totally going to be assuaged by that, "we just want your body and we'll leave you alone—maybe." Shoot.

I backed up, though I'm not entirely sure why my legs suddenly had selective response patterns. The lamp light outside the back door of the Korean restaurant flickered spastically on the muck-covered asphalt loitered with wrappers and a few smashed vodka bottles. The second one tried to slip behind me, but thanks to the flickering light, I caught this and backed up against the wall.

That wasn't the only thing the stupid light had revealed though. Dog tags. Hanging carelessly and taunting me with their faint gleams, I saw two silver dog tags on both necks.

"You're soldiers? Why would you want to rape one of the citizens you've "sworn" to protect?" I jabbed at them hoping they could hear the venom without hearing the false bravado, also adding air quotes to 'sworn', though I doubt that they saw them.

"Doesn't matter. Piece of tail is a piece of tail," the second gooney replied nonchalantly.

They stepped closer but I, with my lack of planning, was stuck against a cold wall. I glared as maliciously as I could muster, my feet still glued to the spot I cast a shadow on. One reached around me and grabbed my wrist in an attempt to stop my arms from lashing out—as if he could almost see that that was all I could think of doing—but I managed to shove my elbow firmly towards his hooked nose. I got a satisfying 'crunk' sound from it.

That only pissed them off though. The other taller one grasped my wrists and roughly shoved them against the wall with his left hand, taking out a knife from his front pocket with his right. They were really going to rape me!

This was so wrong! Things like this only happened in my novels! Only in TV shows with exaggerated plots intended to attract a crowd. This couldn't actually be happening. Where was the hot guy who was supposed to come clicking down the street in his cowboy boots and duster?

Back to life, the bloody-nosed one glared at me and took a swipe with the back of his hand, only scraping my cheek because of my slight maneuvering, but stinging nonetheless. The one with my wrists flicked the pocket knife open and the wicked gleam of the blade caught my eye with an intensity so terrible, it sent shivers racking through my body. He pointed it straight at me and with a sadistic grin, shoved it into my stomach just under my sternum. That was it. The pain was instantaneous and more than likely the most painful thing I'd ever experienced. The word pain couldn't begin to describe what the searing pain shooting up towards my head felt like. I screamed with every fiber of my little singer's soul. I screamed.

The sound caught them off guard and for a moment my scream went naked through the frigid night air as they wadded their fists into their ears. With my wrists free, I began to make a desperate—if not pointless—scramble for it, but before it had began, it had ended. They caught me with a tug that nearly made me hurl from the excruciating pain and forced me against the wall, this time locking me in place with a little reassurance from the knife shoved between two upper ribs. Blinding pain shot through me and for a fleeting moment my eyes went white. Not peaceful white like fresh snow in Virginia, but the empty white you get when you stare at something too bright for just a little too long.

I felt a breeze begin to touch the flatness of my stomach I'd worked so hard for. My hoodie was being lifted up—slowly I'm sure to torture me—but my mind only lingered on that for an instant before shooting back to the wet pain I felt seeping into my bones like a winter chill. I vaguely wondered how much blood I had lost, but my logic was telling me desperately to just pray and keep praying as if—no, BECAUSE my life depended on it.

A sense of calm rushed me like an NFL play, and all at once, I accepted whatever came to me but knew I would give them hell. Upon that comforting resolution, I rolled my eyes back up to my rapists and blinked away the lingering white spots blurring my vision. My pink hair cascaded around my face just enough to block my peripheral vision to the point where when one of my attackers went flying, I thought immediately of angels.

Of course it wasn't literally, but he could surely count as my angel right now. My rescuer stood towering above me by a good half foot, but the light wasn't quite good enough to make out a face. It was barely enough to discern a trim figure in jeans and a zip-up. FINALLY! My sexy stranger was saving me! Maybe those shows that I watched with my granny had some truth after all.

The man holding my wrists pinned to the rough wall behind me let go and yanked the knife out of my ribcage with a slight twist that left me gasping raggedly for breaths. He lunged at my angel in some feeble attempt to avenge his cohort. At this point, I wondered just how strong my heaven-sent-man was. Hopefully strong enough to beat them to bloody little pulps.

A few fists went flying and my man was sent sprawling to the other wall where he landed in a puddle by the sound of it. I absently registered the fight in a somewhat dazed state of mind. Sooner than I could help him up, he was back on his feet rippin' and roarin' to go at the goon again. I began to count the seconds in my mind. 1…2….this wasn't fun…3….4…. And just like that it was over just before my mind had reached 5 and I stood there pathetically looking past the stranger in jeans at the wall where the two lied crumpled up against a trash bin.

The man took out a shiny phone and dialed 911. A few minutes went by, and after another moment, I heard sirens wailing across town. Not thinking straight most likely, I began to hobble across the alley to the main street which was only two blocks from my quaint little apartment, which had never sounded as comfy as it did at this very moment. I didn't get very far…

My body crumpled up in a funny 'fur-lumphah' sound and my eyes glazed over until I saw the tilted version of the pavement in my barely-open eyes. I was pretty exhausted. The thought never really occurred to me that I could be fatally or mortally injured. I figured I would have already died by this point. At best I would die of blood loss. My head thudded dully and my tummy felt oddly twisted and numb as if I had a terrible case of the butterflies that wouldn't go away.

He picked me up. That's what I remember after thinking these things. In strong sure arms, my hero lifted me off the cold pavement in a bridal style position and held me close to his chest—which I could now tell was very gorgeously toned—and softly whispered into my hair, "Hold on, 'kay?"

I mumbled some incoherent agreement, but my eyelids felt heavy and his arms were so tantalizingly warm. I could stay like this forever if it meant being in his arms. His manly scent wafted softly to me and smelled distinctly like Tommy Hilfiger mixed with a bit of sweat obviously new from fighting my almost-rapists.