My Ice Heart is Yours [Levi Ackerman]

Chapter 8: Memories of the Past (2)

Warning: This chapter may contain triggering content for some readers. Read at your own discretion.

The underground city remained the same as it had always been. Yet, as you brushed past the people bustling through the crowded market, your demeanor was completely different from what it had once been. 

You hummed as you swung the basket of groceries on your arm, looking forward to returning to your home to cook dinner with Romero, since he was the only other person in the household with decent cooking skills and he was much too chivalrous to make you do it alone. 

Despite his lack of cooking skills, however, Ash was a skilled mechanic who earned good money for their spending. Jack mostly earned his money by gambling, though it wasn't much of a problem, since he was surprisingly rather skilled. Of course, you also contributed to the household savings through your job at a high-priced bakery, which would often get customers from the wealthier parts of town. Throughout the day, however, thoughts of Romero always weighed in your mind due to the danger associated with his source of income. He was an information broker, his ease with words and talent with bargaining allowing him to make quite the profit. Correspondingly, he was also the one who returned with the most injuries, seeing as his information was much more valuable in the darker parts of the city.

You reminded yourself to check on Romero for injuries later. He had a habit of hiding his pain, especially from you.

Suddenly, you were rudely broken away from your thoughts by a large man who purposefully collided into your shoulder. 

"Excuse me," you said with annoyance, only to falter as your eyes fell upon his beady black eyes. You remembered clearly the faces of every single one of the men who had abused you that day. He had been there that day you had lost everything.

It couldn't have been intentional, could it? The price for your attempt to escape to the surface had already been paid off. Trying your best not to further arouse his attention, you tilted your head innocently. "I'm sorry. I should have watched where I was going." 

However, as you attempted to walk past him, you felt a heavy hand on your arm. 

"Where do you think you're going?" 

As soon as the gruff voice reached your ears, you flung the basket of groceries in the man's face, taking off as fast as you could into the crowded streets. Your heart rate accelerated as your feet pounded on the dirt pavement. Was there any way to contact the boys back at home? You cursed. Of course there wasn't. 

You suddenly thought of the knife in your back pocket. What would be your best course of action now? Would it be to fight? No. Even with a knife, it would be difficult for you to fight off a grown man. You cursed yourself again for your own weakness.

You glanced over your shoulder, only to see that the number of men chasing you had multiplied, all with faces that you recognized. You looked around desperately as you reached what seemed to be a dead end to the road. You turned and began to ran back, only to stop as you heard the mens' footsteps getting closer.

You held your head in your hands.

What could you do?

You winced as the memories of being beaten by these men flashed through your mind. You held your side, feeling as if you had been kicked again. You shut your eyes tightly, biting your tongue, bracing yourself for the pain that was sure to come.

Suddenly, a pair of arms grabbed you from the side and swung you around the corner of the building. You attempted to take the knife out of your pocket, but a strong arm stopped your movement. Your scream was quickly muffled by a hand that covered your mouth.