Page 143 of Satan's Spawn
I stumble back, collecting my bearings.
“Watch where the fuck you’re going blondie.” The stranger snaps, wiping a hand down his shirt.
I feel the heat of an angry body approaching my back, and in a split second Crayton is barreling past me, driving the stranger into a brick wall with his chest.
“You got a prob—” The stranger attempts to say, but Crayton beats him to the literal punch.
To the guy’s face.
“Crayton! What the hell are you doing?!” I scream.
True to form, Crayton ignores me, wrapping a hand around the guy’s throat and lifting him slowly.
My eyes widen when I see the guy’s feet leaving the ground, completely flabbergasted by Crayton’s strength.
Granted, the guy is pretty skinny, but still.
Crayton steps closer, his face inches away from the dude trying to pry him off his neck, but he doesn’t say a word. Which I think is freaking me out even more.
The stranger’s face turns a deep shade of red as Crayton tilts his head back and forth slowly, like a beast examining its prey.
The image makes my blood run cold, but someone needs to help because not a single bystander is. I stomp over to them both, trying to reason with Crayton, but he won’t even look at me.
I try calling out his name and snapping my fingers, even trying to break them apart with my hands. Still no response…and it makes me wonder if Crayton can even hear me.
It makes me wonder if he’s even conscious.
I swallow, not realizing how violent silence could be until now. As I look into Crayton’s desolate eyes.
I’m literally scared for this guy, even if he’s kind of a jerk.
“Crayton, let him go.” I demand, but that just makes him squeeze tighter. “Crayton!” I shout, “you’re going to seriously hurt him.”
His head finally swings my way. “That’s the fucking point.”
If I had any doubt in his mental fragility, it’s completely gone now. IknowCrayton is crazy, and I know he will seriously injure this guy if I don’t put a stop to it.
“Please…” I blurt out, racking my brain for what the hell to say that will convince him, and even the guy seems like he’s counting on me to keep him alive. “I’ll do anything.”
Crayton’s eyes twitch a bit, but his hands still hold the guy's life in the balance.
“You’ve won, okay? I’m fucking scared of you.”
I’m unsure of what the hell it is about this comment that convinces him, but it does so I’ll take the win. Crayton lets the guy go, and he nearly collapses while trying to catch his breath.
I’m trying to catch mine too.
He pulls out another cigarette and lights it, not even acknowledging the man running away from us.
“I’m taking you somewhere. Get your shit.” He states, taking a pull, making me realize I left my bag on the bench.
I really shouldn’t go anywhere with this madman, but somehow I know, despite all the scowls and threats and wanton aggression, Crayton wouldn’t hurt me.
Not physically anyway.
“Where?” I ask, still unable to shake the hesitation.
“No more questions.” He’s moving again, stopping at the bench to toss my bag at me.
