He rolled and kicked with his other foot, catching me in the ear. Somehow, I managed to keep my wits, but when he tried to crawl awayagain, I threw myself on top of him and wrapped my arms around his torso, pinning his flailing limbs to his sides before he took out my eye.
He couldn’t move and kept hollering for help until his voice strained.
With my mouth by his ear, I hissed, “Fucking shut up and stop fighting. I only want to talk to you, for Christ’s sake. What’s your problem?”
It took another minute of squirming and thrashing and worming before he seemed to realize he couldn’t get away. Then, he broke down in sobs. “I didn’t do nothing. I swear. Please don’t hurt me. Oh fuck. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Beneath me, his body convulsed as he cried harder. Jesus Christ. What was happening? How had this gone from a friendly house call to a physical altercation?
My left ear throbbed and rang from a blow, aching into my jaw, compromising my hearing. Regardless, somewhere in the distance, above the noisy traffic, I heard a snarky Tallus mouthing off to someone who must have been gawking.
“Mind your fucking business, asshole. Nothing to see here. Keep walking.”
Great. Someone was going to call the fucking cops at this rate, and they would lock me in the slammer. What the hell was I doing? Restraining a child? Stupid kid? For what? I didn’t even know why he’d felt the need to run. I only wanted to talk.
I loosened my grip and brought my mouth to the weeping kid’s ear. “Listen. I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to fucking talk. Stop fighting, and I’ll let you up.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll talk. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I ran. Please don’t hurt me. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Good grief.” Guilt the size of a boulder filled my belly, and I rolled to the side, releasing my hold on the blubberingchildbecause that was what he was, a fucking child.
Aching from our tumble, I slowly got to my feet, taking inventory of the pains riddled throughout my body. I was getting too old for this shit.
The boy rolled to his back and cowered like I was going to kick him or plunge a knife into his kidneys.
“Get up,” I croaked, prodding my numb ear, opening and closing my mouth to alleviate the weird sensation of not hearing properly.
The kid took his time, glancing warily between Tallus and me before panning the street like he might try to run again.
“Don’t even think about it.” I scanned the kid from head to toe, looking for injuries. His pants were torn, but I had a feeling they were like that before we tumbled. “Are you hurt?”
He shook his head. His hood had fallen back during our exchange, exposing a mop of dark hair. His bangs fell into his face, sticking to his tear-streaked cheeks. Snot ran in ribbons from his nose to his lips, but he made no move to wipe it.
We’d gone down hard, but I’d done what I could to take the brunt of the fall, knowing my weight was at least double his. As a result, my knees and elbows stung from connecting with the unforgiving cement. The boy had a faint scratch along his jaw but otherwise seemed unharmed.
Tallus touched my arm, offering a tissue.
“Give it to him. He’s got fucking snot to his chin.”
The kid sniffled and wiped it up his sleeve.
“Take it. Your nose is bleeding,” Tallus said.
“What?” I prodded with my fingers, and they came away bloody. “Shit.” Only then did I feel the slow trickle runningdown my face, circling my lips. Not a gusher. Not broken. “You’ve got a hard head, kid.”
The boy didn’t look sorry in the least. In fact, his worry seemed to deepen.
I accepted the tissue from Tallus and held it to my nose, staunching the blood flow as I took in the delinquent. He couldn’t have been more than twenty. Underweight and underfed by the look of him. His hard life was written all over his body. Greasy hair. Unwashed clothing.
He stared with terror-filled eyes before something akin to recognition pulled his brows together. “Oh shit. You’re him.”
I frowned. “What are you talking about?” But as the words tumbled from my mouth, a memory surfaced. His face. I knew this kid, but how? From where? “Who are you?”
The boy shifted uncomfortably and panned the street. The audience that had gathered during the kerfuffle had dissipated. We were alone. Night blanketed the city. A wash of yellow streetlights reflected off the low cloud cover, leeching the color from our surroundings. It played tricks with shadows.
The boy stared at the ground and mumbled, “You gave me your card once and told me to call if I ever needed someone to talk to. It’s…” He peeked up. “Your face. I remember your face. The scars.”
Between my size and the visible marks I carried from childhood, I was often recognized, but what the hell was he talking about? I’d offered help? That didn’t sound like me. I didn’t go out of my way to talk to people, and I especially avoided teenagers or kids in that general age bracket at all costs, and yet… his face. I knew him, but the memory wouldn’t surface.