Dependance

“So…,” Lorna drawled, trying to come up with a sentence quickly to keep the conversation going, “do you have anywhere else to stay? What with this place being a little wrecked and all.” Vincent shook his head slowly, the smallest of frowns painting his face.
So he had no place to go? No home, no family? He was an abnormality (and a big one at that) that was suddenly left alone. Maybe he had a caretaker/guardian previously that had done stuff like shopping for him so he did not need to go out…but that was completely besides the point. Lorna’s eyes softened. She was intent on staring at her shoes -the traditional black and white scuffed converse- whilst biting her lip lightly. Would it be okay to ask? He did not have no where else to go so…maybe he would accompany her?
The purr of an old engine rang clearly throughout the silent town, and Lorna snapped her head up…Cadillac.
“Shit!” The girl cursed, brown orbs like saucers.

Vincent looked over to the girl in a curious manner. He watched as she scrambled up from her place on the ground and began to rapidly scan the area. Why had she been so horrified to hear the engine? Was she hiding away from someone? Wait a minute…There was a car coming! There was a chance it could be the authorities. Standing, Vincent strode over to Lorna and gripped her wrist, tugging her gently towards the pet shop. A confused look adorned her face, but otherwise she went along with it. They entered (Vincent feeling odd without the recorded sounds playing like normal) and he urged her behind the dust-laden counter to hide.

At a loss for words, Lorna hid behind the counter, eyes peeking over the top and fingers embedded on the filthy edge. It was like he had a complete personality change…Back straighter, hands clenched, fists at his side and a determined, almost angry, expression set on his face. He had abruptly changed from having the body signals of a child to the demeanour of a man.
‘Is he bipolar?’ Lorna caught herself thinking. The seventeen-year-old then remembered that her father was out there, and if Vincent was visible at the window, it was more likely he would come looking for her here. She could just imagine it now: her dad asking her what she was doing hanging around with a freak, why she had left, and after replying he would turn violent on both of them. It would be awful to bring Vincent into all of this.
“It’s my dad.” Vincent turned to give her a quizzical gaze of his only eye. “He’s looking for me…I ran away. Please, get away from the window, in case he sees you…” Lorna suddenly felt rude for saying that and added “ and thinks that I’m here.”

She had family, yet she ran away? It seemed alien to Vincent. Lorna noticed his confused gaze and said in a whisper “he was abusive.”
Vincent’s eye widened slightly. A father, abuse his own child? He thought back to when his own dad had to be forceful to keep Bo under control, but never had abuse come into it! The only wounds inflicted was Bo’s scars on his wrists, which would not have been there if Bo had been good. Moving away from the window to the counter, the male sat himself behind it, smearing his rear in grime; he kept his gaze just over the tip of the counter, where the top left corner of the door was visible. He would see and hear if Lorna’s father came in here. He could hear the grinding of the rubber tyres on gravel and wax, then the hissing as a foot pressed on the brakes.

Lorna squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to block it all out. A light flashed under her eyelids and the fist of her father swung at her cheek. Flash - the shiny toe of a polished boot stamped at her vulnerable ribs. Flash- his yellow-nailed hands were clawing at her neck, not just gripping skin but encasing her windpipe in a vice like grip. Tears rolled down her closed eyes.

Vincent stared at the girl, who was crying quietly to herself with eyelids firmly shut. Guess it was safe to say that she did not like her father - not one bit. As was with most men who see a woman cry, Vincent was uncomfortable and unsure what to do. Reminiscing of a time when his mum had been upset (stressed over Bo), his father had comforted her, held her close and whispered things in her ear that would make anyone feel fuzzy inside.
Vincent certainly was not going to ‘hold her close’ because it seemed just too intimate for him; however he did his best and placed his hand on her forearm in a comforting gesture, and after a few moments, his thumb began to stroke the skin. The crying had stopped, which was a relief, however Lorna would not open her eyes, obviously wanting to keep a good minds worth away from reality. Vincent kept his hand in place.

The pet shop door creaked.