Thanks a lot to TeenyTinyIrishPerson and Reasons Lost for beta reading!

Sam had clearly not been well emotionally lately. Giving in to that nonsensical argument had been so stupid, and I hated myself for it. I'd just been under a lot of stress those past two weeks, leaving me on edge lately. It was still no excuse.

Of course, she wasn't home when I came back in the evening. Calling her proved to be as fruitless as before. It happened quite often that she went out without me when I had no time, but the flat seemed even emptier now than usual. It was depressing. I was worried. I missed her.

It was closing in to eleven p.m. when my phone rang. I quickly picked it up expecting to hear her slurred voice again. I hesitated. The number was none I knew. Odd. My finger dragged the green receiver over the screen.

"L—Lara?"

"Sam! What's—"

Her voice was fast and scared. "I need your help! Please! Some creepy guys followed me. I locked myself in a phone booth two blocks down the street, I think. Please hurry!"

"Hold on! I'm coming!" Just before I hung up, a bang blared through the speaker—Sam screamed, my stomach dropped.

I stared for one second at the screen in my trembling hand. Then, I rushed into my room. Where were the car keys? I couldn't remember where I'd put them. I broke out in a cold sweat. I hurried to the entrance of the flat. My hands patted down the pockets of my jacket, my eyes scanned the surroundings. Nothing. There was no time for that. I slipped into my shoes, and the door slammed shut as I darted down the stairs and out of the building.

"Two blocks down the street", I murmured while taking just a second to orient myself. Then I turned and dashed forward. My feet flew over the pavement. The sudden drop in temperature in my surroundings caused goose bumps on my skin, the cool night air shot into my chest, stinging in my lungs, my muscles ached from the sudden exertion; I ignored it all, pressing my body to hurry on.

The first intersection wasn't far off now. When I passed the corner of the last building before the crossroad, my feet stopped, digging their heels into the ground. The yellow light of a street lamp had cloaked the headlights of an approaching car. I skidded forward a meter, stumbled and collided with its side. The wing mirror painfully stabbed into my waist, drawing a grunt out of my throat. The driver's door opened and a man emerged while I pushed myself off the car holding my aching side.

"Hey! Are you crazy?"

"Sorry." I held a hand up, rounded the bonnet and took off.

Phone booth. One more block. My feet picked up pace again. I passed a café, elbowing my way through a group of people that spilled out of the entrance and earned a myriad of insults and curses. Panting a few apologies I pressed on, leaving the chatter behind. The distant view of a red booth sent a new jolt of energy into my limbs. I rushed forward, closing in to where I was hoping to find an unharmed Sam.

My pace slowed down as I approached, and when I almost came to a halt wheezing and with my heartbeat droning in my ears, I put my hands on my waist to massage my burning sides. The booth was empty. Horror filled my mind when I saw the two broken windows in the booth. Splinters of glass grated under my shoes and glittered in the light of the moon and the lamps. My eyes darted around.

"Sam!" I shouted at the top of what my lungs could muster, my voice resounding in the street and then fading away. No response.

No one was to been seen on either side of the street. My head shot around when a car drove by, interrupting the unusual quiet. I paced up and down the pavement, my eyes wandering up the exterior walls of the surrounding buildings. Several windows were illuminated from the inside, a few were open, but no head could be seen peeking out into the night.

"Sam!" I tried again. Nothing. No sign. I'd been too late. Frustrated, I kicked several times against the booth. The metal rattled and a few more pieces of glass fell out of the frames and crashed onto the ground. I had to force myself to stop though. This was not the time to lose it. Sam needed my help. I leant against the booth and breathed deeply.

She'd said they'd be following her. They were probably on foot then. Good. They couldn't be that far away; I'd been quite fast. Obviously they hadn't gone the way I'd come; I would have noticed them. If they'd grabbed her, she would have struggled and they wouldn't have stayed on the main street either. Side roads it is, I thought. Hopefully they hadn't entered any of the buildings.

Fighting against my smarting muscles and lungs, I left the booth, and ran further down the street to turn into a narrow alley. It was softly lit by light seeping out a pair of windows and onto the path below. I walked along a few overflowing dustbins standing against the walls. But the alley was deserted as far as I could tell. I turned and emerged back onto the street.

Suddenly, a distant clang. I turned my head left and right, trying to figure out the direction it had come from, but the echo made it hard to tell. Then, another clang. The other side of the street. Without checking for traffic, I darted over the asphalt towards another side road. As I entered the gloomy space between the bordering buildings, I picked up chatter further ahead. Praying that I'd found Sam and that she was still unharmed, I pressed on, passing further dustbins—some of them had been knocked over, spreading their foul content into the alley. The louder the voices got, the more I slowed down. I could make out two of them now. Both male, and both on edge. They were arguing, it seemed. The alley curved around the corner of a building, and when I walked around the bend, I saw two men standing close to a wall. One was gesticulating wildly. The other, the taller one—He was holding Sam! One hand over her mouth, he was pressing her head against his chest, holding her arms on her back with the other. Sam was thrashing around in his hold, her bare feet kicking out at either of them, the dress she'd been wearing that afternoon flitted around her with her wild movements.

I hesitated for just a second. I actually hadn't thought about what I'd do if I found Sam, and she was threatened by those "creepy guys" she mentioned. I'd have to improvise. I couldn't leave Sam like that any longer.

"You're out of your mind! What do you even plan to do with her? This wasn't your best idea. Sure, would could possibly go wrong?" the gesturing man said in a nervous voice he tried to keep down. He leant with an arm against the wall of a building. "We've had it. We're goners."

"Shut your fucking mouth already! Shut up! Just shut up and get the fucking car!" his partner bellowed, his face red. Sam screamed into his hand, looking horrified at the man opposite to her. "And you, shut the fuck up, too!" Sam's captor said, jerking her head left and right.

"Lower your voice! Do you want to draw the attention of the entire neighbourhood?" The first thug turned away, hands in his hair. "Shit, shit shit!"

"Get a fucking grip on yourself and get the fucking car already, you moron! I'm gonna kill you myself if you don't move." Suddenly, he howled in pain and pulled his hand away from Sam's face. "Fuck, she bit me! You fucking bitch!" Her mouth uncovered, Sam instantly began to scream for help.

"Shit, do something! She's too loud!"

I closed in on them while the taller of the two pushed Sam against the wall by her neck. "Shut up and get the fucking car!" he shouted at the flailing man before turning back to Sam. "I said shut the fuck up!" He reached back with his hurt hand.

No no no! "Hey!" I shouted. All three of them turned towards me. "What do you think you're doing? Let her go!" I came to a halt about five meters away.

"Shit, what now? I can't believe this." The smaller man threw his arms up and turned away. "This is all your fault. I'm done here", he grunted and started walking away.

Still holding Sam by her neck, the other abductor grabbed his shirt and pulled him back. "You're not done. You're done when I fucking tell you so! Deal with her! We're getting out o—"

"What? Deal with her? What's that supposed to mean? You're crazy!"

"Are you fucking dumb? Just do it! I swear I'm gonna tell them it's your fault we're empty-handed if you don't start doing what I fucking tell you."

"You're an asshole!"

"Please, just let her go!" I tried again. "Just take her money and let her go! I called the police. They'll be here soon." I wished I had done that.

"Shit! You heard that? We need to go! Now!" He pointed at me while looking at his partner.

Sam reached out to me. "Lara! Please help me! Help!" Then a bulky hand smacked flat over her face. She yelped as her head snapped to the side against the brick wall.

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up!"

Sam glanced with quivering jaw at the finger that was pointed at her face and then looked back at me with pleading, glistening eyes, her make-up smudged down her cheeks—banks to rills of tears.

I didn't care about the odds. I darted forward.

"Fuck! Just deal with her!"

"What?" The smaller man's head flicked confused from his partner to me. "Shit!" He brought his arms up just before my body collided with his. I drove him past the second thug and Sam until we crashed into a large dustbin and tumbled to the ground.

"Lara!" Sam's voice.

I pushed myself off the groaning body beneath me hearing the other man yowl close by. "Fuck!" he shouted, and then Sam shrieked again.

"Leave her alone!" I said through gritted teeth while rising to my feet. I wanted to get to her, but a hand clasped around my ankle. I lost balance and almost fell back down to the ground.

"Hey, where are you going?" a voice growled at my feet. He got up on his knees, his hand still firm on my leg, but his eyes looked past me. He wasn't talking to me. I turned my head to Sam. The taller guy had his hand back over her mouth, dragging her backwards into the alley.

"Stop! Let her go", I shouted.

"I'm getting the fuck out of here. Since you're fucking useless and couldn't even get the car, I'm gonna try and get there myself. Just get rid of that girl and follow!"

"Screw you! Shit!"

I tugged at my leg, trying to get out of the hold.

"And hurry, for fuck's sake! You know what's on the line."

I shifted my weight onto my captured leg and kicked out with the other. He cried out. Two more kicks and his hand released me. Freed from his grip, I turned around and was taken aback for a moment as I watched Sam stomp down on her captor's foot and throwing her head back into his face. He staggered. Our chance. I dashed forward.

But something tugged on my ponytail throwing me off balance once again. My body was jerked backwards. A hand grabbed the hem of my jeans and suddenly my surroundings swirled in a sickening flurry until I collided with something solid. A metallic rattle echoed between the buildings.

"Just... stay down, okay? Wait for me! Let's get out of—Hey!"

I shook my head in an attempt to unscramble my coordination. Screaming, shouting and squealing sounded in my ears. My hands fumbled around trying to figure out which surface was the ground. When my senses finally came back to me, I got back up to my feet.

Sam was sitting on the ground, thrashing at the smaller man who was trying to get a grip on her. The other one stood doubled over and winced, one hand on his knee, the other hand over his face. Good girl.

The hurt man looked distracted enough. If I could disable the second kidnapper somehow, we might be able to make a run for it. Aiming for him, I took off. Just when I was about to lunge at him, my momentum came to an abrupt halt. An arm slammed into my chest from the side, knocking the wind out of me.

"Just what the fuck do you think you're doing? Get lost already!" The taller kidnapper had straightened himself again. He pushed me backwards and I floundered. A head taller than me, he towered over me trying to look as threatening as possible, but I just glared at him with clenched fists and baring teeth. He was bewildered.

His partner grabbed Sam's arms and pulled her up.

"Let her go!" My voice bristled with rage.

"Holy fuck, what a fucking mess. I'll deal with this bitch. Make this one shut up and get her out of here!" He turned back to me and strode forward, tensing up his arm muscles in an attempt to intimidate me. I didn't back down. I needed to get to Sam, but there was no way past this guy. Sam was struggling to fend off her attacker, scratching at his skin and pummelling his chest. She earned a punch in response. Her cry made me tremble.

I saw red. My heartbeat in my ears, my hearing was clouded, my vision fixed on the body in front of me, everything else became hazy. My feet moved by themselves.

I closed in. My fist shot out, slamming into his abs. He gasped. A strike with the ball of my hand into his solar plexus, another into his mid and he bent over, backing away with a pained expression, wheezing for air.

His coughs were music to my ears. I had taken him by surprise; he hadn't expected me to round on him like that. Bastard.

His hunched posture made his head the obvious target. I struck, and again, and again. My hands went numb as they drew blood from his face; a painful, tingling sensation as extension of my forearms. I wasn't done, he was still standing.

His back hit the wall behind him. I struck upwards—the heel of my hand into his chin. His head snapped up—his neck temptingly exposed. My hands clutched at it, thumbs pressing into his windpipe, drawing rattling sounds from his throat that motivated me to increase the pressure.

It was a mistake. The break in my assault had given him the moment he needed to regain some sense.

His arms came crashing down into mine and broke my hold onto his neck. I hadn't even seen the movement of his next attack; I could only buckle over his knee as it drove into my guts. The involuntary sharp breath I took sucked spit into the windpipe. But I wasn't given time to react. As the cough reflex kicked in, my head was pulled upwards by my hair. I had only a fraction of a second to recognize his forehead before it collided with my face. Then, his fist came down out of nowhere. Movement restricted by his hold on my hair, I couldn't dodge—my head spun sideways with the impact, scalp smarting from the pull on the hair roots. My arms shot up in defence—too late. Fire exploded in my cheek as his fist slammed into the side of my head like a hammer. I blinked the dots in my vision away, and just as my eyes refocused on my surroundings, my head was jerked back. A blur in front of me. It smashed square into my face.

The pain spread out in my head, pulsing agony in the front, throbbing headache in the back. A metallic, viscous fluid glued my tongue to the bottom of my mouth.

My hair was released; my head flopped around. I was shoved, and staggered, dizzy from the beating. Realization hit, as though he'd knocked some sense into me instead of the opposite: I was now on the receiving end. What had I been thinking? You call that improvising? I desperately needed to find another way to neutralise him.

Wheezing in front of me. "Fucking hell! Now I'm pissed off!"

I only had a second to recover before another, painful impact threw my head around. A wet feeling seeped down the front. Surroundings hazy, I staggered backwards. I'd lost balance. My arms flung around, trying to find some kind of support. Nothing. I tripped, fell, and collided with something solid.

The familiar metallic rattle echoed; back at the dust bin. My hands scrabbled about, seeking something to hold onto, as I sank down. My fingers caught on something, some kind of plastic, a bin liner. I instinctively clutched at it to keep myself upright, but it provided no support; instead, it came down with me. I hit the ground. Clanking above me. I closed my eyes and felt the impact of several objects falling down on me. Then something crashed onto my head and clattered over the ground. The foul, rotten smell of days old rubbish penetrated my blood-stuffed nose.

I opened my eyes. Pieces of glass glittered on the dark cobblestones. In the middle, the stump of broken bottle.

Right behind it—two fast moving boots. I tried to curl up too late. One flew through the strewn rubbish and drove into my gut. My body flung back against the dust bin.

"Fuck you!" His boot came flying again. My body jerked, my abdomen constricted, the pain multiplied.

The sensation of hurt was overwhelming and clawed at my consciousness, fogging my mind. A few more hits and I'd be at their mercy—and Sam lost. I had to do something. Now. But down on the ground, squirming in pain, I wasn't in the position to act. I had to create an opening.

I winced as I tried to tense my sensitive abdominal muscles to brace myself for the next impact I was sure would come.

And I was right. "Fucking bitch!" It was as if his foot tried to drive my guts out of my body through my back. Bitter bile shot in and then out of my mouth, burning on my tongue.

But this time, I didn't let him retreat; I held onto his leg. Blinking, I could make out the broken glass in front of me. My other arm shot out. With one swift movement, my hand enclosed the bottle neck and drove the other, sharp edged end into his calf. The scream that followed was ear-splitting—and satisfying. I pulled the bottle out and stabbed again. He fell backwards, and I lost grip on him and my improvised weapon, but it had served its purpose. He clutched at his leg, yelping; a dark stain spread out on his trousers.

This was my chance—our chance—to get away. Hands still on the ground, I stumbled away from the pained screams behind me. I tripped, fell back down, only to pick myself up again and get back to my feet, hunched over my aching stomach, spitting dark saliva onto the ground. My eyes darted around, trying to get a grasp on my surroundings.

Sam. There she was, looking bewildered at the other thug in front of her, slowly backing away from him. His hands covered his eyes as he cursed her in pain.

"Sam! Come on, we need to run!" She looked at me, first confused, then focused. She hurried over, I grabbed her hand and we took off.

"Fuck! They're getting away!"

"Who cares? Just let them!"

"No fucking way!"

"Mate! We have to get away before the police come."

I glanced back. The taller man stood up only to falter grimacing and holding his leg. He started hopping forward in our direction anyway.

I picked up pace, tugging on Sam's arm, but she couldn't keep up.

"Lara!" she cried out and got slower. I looked at her pain contorted face.

"What's wrong?"

She pointed down at her bare feet. A small trail of blood behind her. "I stepped on something. I can't..."

The thug came closer, getting faster, fighting through his injury.

I turned my back to Sam. "Come on!" Sam didn't hesitate. Flinging her arms around my neck, she jumped on my back. I grabbed her legs and ran as fast as possible, ignoring the stinging misery my body was in.

When we approached the café, Sam said, "He's gone." Feeling safer now that other people were around, I slowed down and allowed myself a breathing pause. I spat out another shot of saliva and blood before looking up at Sam; her reddened eyes met mine.

"Are you okay?" we both said in unison. Sam clearly looked very upset. I hadn't even had the time yet to process what just had happened in the past 10 minutes.

Sam leant down to press her lips on my forehead. "Thank you so much," she whispered.

"Anytime."

She looked down at me for a moment, her expression saddening. One arm still around my neck, she started to rummage around in her handbag. "What a shitty day," she muttered and pulled out a hankie that she ran over my mouth to wipe away the blood that had seeped out of my nose and my cut lips.

"Sorry", I said.

She sighed. "Not your fault." The tissue was stowed away in her bag before she put a hand on my head and placed her own chin on top.

The conversation died for some time while I carried Sam past the odd looks of the café's patrons.

The silence was broken when Sam started snivelling quietly. I wished I'd been able to take her into my arms, but getting her home and patched up was more important, so I carried on.

After a while, Sam took a few deep breaths to calm herself. "I didn't even get to get drunk," she said resignedly.

"Let's patch up your foot first. And then... I think we still have a wine bottle we can down."

"Sounds good." She ruffled my hair.

It turned out there wasn't as much booze left as I'd thought. After raiding our first aid supplies and patching ourselves up, we sat on the couch, and downed the rest of the wine. Silent, and lost in thought, Sam's shuddering body in my arms. When the sitting position became too uncomfortable for my battered stomach, I put Sam, who seemed to have calmed down, to bed and retreated into my own with an ice pack and some painkillers.

Too wrought-up to sleep, I lay staring at the ceiling, in my head the lingering remains of the panic I'd felt in that alley at the thought that Sam could be taken away from me. Apparently, she'd purposely left her mobile at home. What if she hadn't reached the telephone booth? What if I hadn't found her?

She would have been gone. Just like that. Maybe forever.

But she was not. She was safe, here in her bed just a few meters away. I knew that. Yet, I couldn't shake off the feeling that I should make sure that that was really the case. That she was still there and not gone. It was irrational and stupid.

Groaning, I got out of bed anyway. Just when I turned on the light, the door to my room opened a bit and Sam sneaked in. She looked surprised for a moment to see me standing in front of her, but then her face fell back into a bleak expression that made me knit my brows.

"Hey, I..." she began and then hesitated. But she didn't need to finish the sentence. I drew her into my arms again and she relaxed into me, sighing heavily.

A minute or two later, I released her, slipped back under my duvet and held up one side for her to follow. We snuggled up to each other and drew the cover up to our chins. I closed my eyes and let out a breath of relief. Having Sam by my side put my mind at rest and planted content where there had been gnawing worry a few minutes ago, as if her body heat warmed my soul.

As I began falling asleep, Sam kept me awake by putting a hand on my cheek. "I'm so sorry", she whispered. I glanced at her and saw her frowning at the bruises on my face.

"Don't. If it means keeping you safe, I would... You're here, that's all that matters."

There was a flash of a smile before her expression became unreadable. She bit her lip and then leant in to kiss my cheek. Her lips lingered on my skin for several seconds before she retreated with a smirk. That was an unusual gesture, even for her, but it didn't feel awkward, I had to admit.

I ruffled her hair a bit as she scrutinized my bruises again, stroking my skin with her thumb. "Does it hurt much?" she asked with concern.

"Not as much if you don't touch it."

"Shit. Sorry." Her hand snapped back under the duvet.

"I was joking. I took some painkillers."

"Screw you," she muttered and made a face.

I pressed her into me and smirked. "Now lets try to sleep. We'll go to the police in the morning, okay?"

Sam turned off the light and we relaxed into the pillow, our limbs wrapped around each other. As I was falling asleep again, I wondered, What would I not do to keep her safe?