Remember Last Knight

don't waste your breath


It was a chain reaction. From my fighting years. Someone grabbed me, back then, if I was looking them in the face or not, they'd get a fist to the jawbone.

It's been over a year since I've hit someone. One year and one-hundred and eighteen days. Now, I guess that count will have to start over. I don't take a second to be angry with myself at this, I just go to Ayden, grab his phone, see it's his ex-girlfriend of six months and hang up.

Ayden gives me that drunken look, the one where I can tell he's only about three cups from falling into a stupor, and I know that I'm screwed. I don't want to be at this party, I didn't want to be here to begin with, and now I have a valid excuse to get out.

Only my ride is missing in the sea of sweat and alcohol-stenched teenagers. I'm not looking forward to waiting for a ride and I can't leave Ayden alone, that would just add to the stupid things I've done tonight.

I look toward where I left Knight, and he's still there. He's turned away from us, aiding himself, hiding. I don't know why I hit him, honestly. That wasn't the worst situation I've been in since I decided using my fists for solving problems wasn't worth it, so why would I let him be the one to break me of my pact? Suddenly, the anger I knew would come from this hits me, burning up the back of my neck and flushing my cheeks faster than Ayden can toss drinks.

Knight looks over, a quick glance, and he seems sort of taken aback that I'm still standing around. He's got an odd look about him, smothering his face, but his eyes are calling out something... and I can't quiet hear it. They're wide, like he's afraid, but he's got a good half a foot and at least fifty pounds on me, and his eyebrows are reaching for one another as his forehead wrinkles. I don't understand. I've seen fear, in the mirror and from those who have had fallen under my fists, like Knight, but never like this.

My confusion only increases as he pulls a hand towards himself, beckoning me.

Face still hot, one arm dragging my brother, I follow.


I look at her through the burn of my face, mainly from my heavy nose. I stare at her with stinging eyes, waiting for an apology.

"What? You waiting for something?"

"An apology would be nice," I reason.

"Don't waste your breath." I'm surprised to hear this voice, her drunken brother's, speak up. Elle sort of looks at him funny, as though she had forgotten about him, throwing an annoyed look in his direction. He starts to speak again, words that aren't completely slurred but that are still not completely comprehensible. "She never says it, to anyone, ever. Not even after she'd beat the shit out of you, or go to court, or anything. She wouldn't say a word."

Elle was reaching her hand out to cover his mouth at the phrase 'beat the shit out of you,' but he was struggling, and her face was panicked as she reached to cover his lips. It didn't matter. It was all out now.
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So, I said I wouldn't update this but I am anyway.
I hope you enjoy it.