Hunter's POV
The first time I set eyes on Sapphire was at the tender age of six years old.
I was scrawny as a kid, seeing the world through the eyes of an abused boy. Bullies, like sharks scenting blood, seemed to flock around me. As if they knew I was beaten up at home and were determined to make sure I was beaten outside as well.
The sun bore down on that playground, scorching the sand beneath me. Sprawled on the ground, my back and hands hurt from the rough tumble.
"Looooser," Daryl, a boy a year older than me, taunted while making a face. The sun behind him blinded me to his features, but I'd seen that expression enough times to remember it. Next to him, his two friends snickered, egging him on.
I scrambled up, but was pushed to the ground before I could stand. My palms stung, and my eyes watered.
Boys don't cry!
My father's ruthless voice echoed in my head, but my throat was too tight, and tears spilled down my cheeks. The boys laughed harder, taunting me with mocking words and hard kicks.
Then a head of light brown hair filled my vision, standing between me and the three boys. A halo of golden light surrounded her, her shadow shielding me from the abusive assault of the sun and the three bullies.
"Stop it! That's mean!" she said, getting all in Daryl's face.
I scrambled up to my feet. She was as short and scrawny as I was, but the way she stood up to three bigger boys made her seem seven feet tall.
Daryl curled his lips in disgust. "It's none of your business."
I tugged at her arm, my heart racing. She was just a girl. They're going to hurt her. "Stop," I whispered.
She turned her eyes on me, two blazing sapphires. "No. I'm not gonna stop." She looked back at Daryl. "You're being mean!"
"I don't care!"
"Well, guess what?! Bullies are just wussies!"
Daryl's eyes widened.
"Take that back!" he said, shoving her back. She bumped into me.
To my surprise, she grinned. "You hit me first. Remember that."
Then she punched him in the nose.
Daryl cried out. A flash of red glistened in the sunlight before he clutched his nose.
His two friends jumped in. Reaching for her. I pushed one of them. And soon, all four of us were tearing into each other on the playground sand, while Daryl cried and moaned on the side.
That was the first time I ever fought back against someone. But the thought that a girl was fighting while I, a boy, stood back, didn't sit well with six-year-old me.
Fifteen minutes later, the girl, Daryl's friends and I were sitting in the waiting room of the principal's office. Daryl was at the infirmary.
"We called your parents. Wait until they get here," the teachers who found us said, her frown deep. She closed the door, enveloping us in silence.
My cheek stung from where someone had scoured it with his nails, my scalp hurt too. I glanced at the girl next to me.
She sat in the chair, her arms crossed and her eyes blazing. The sun filtering in through the window of the waiting room made her eyes look like they were glowing.
"Thanks," I mumbled.
She turned to me. Her hair was a wild halo around her face, strands sticking in different directions. A pink scratch marred her chin and cheek. "You should fight back."
I shrugged, tugging at my sleeves. "You'll get in trouble for helping me."
It was her turn to shrug. "Daddy says that I should never be the first to hit. But if someone hits me, I'm allowed to defend myself. Daryl hit me first."
Right then, the door opened. And a man walked in. His blue eyes scanned the room and settled on the girl. "Sapphire."
What an odd name. I watched in amazement as he crouched down in front of her, his gentle hands brushing errant locks from her face. "What happened, sweetheart?"
The girl's chin wobbled, her eyes filling with tears. "Daddy..."
"Shh, it's okay." He patted her head. "Tell me what happened."
"They were hitting him," she pointed at me, "and- and he didn't fight back. And I told them to stop b-but they didn't. I didn't hit them first, Daddy, I swear. He pushed me first a-and-"
To my amazement, the man smiled and drew her in a hug, patting her back. "Good girl," he whispered in her ear. "But don't tell your mom I said that."
She nodded, wiping her cheeks. "Am I in trouble? Mom will be angry, right?"
He huffed out a laugh. "Probably. But tell you what? I'll smooth things out with Mom. And on our way home, we'll stop for burgers in your favorite place. How about that?"
She beamed and nodded. The man looked at me, his blue eyes kind. "Are you okay, kid?"
I nodded mutely. He reached over. I flinched. The man frowned, but ruffled my hair. "It'll be alright."
He cast the two other boys a less kind look. Glancing at the doors, he lowered his voice, addressing them. "You two, no more bullying. Understood?"
The two boys nodded, shifting nervously in their seats. The door to the principal's office swung open, and the principal's white head of hair peeked out.
"Mr. Milton, please come in," she said.
Sapphire and her father went inside, leaving the three of us in silence.
I never knew dads could be so kind. And I never knew girls could be so strong.
My Dad always told me I'm as weak as a girl. So I always thought that girls were weak. It was the first time I realized that Dad might just be wrong.
After that day, I always fought back. Even though it hurt every time, I fought back whenever someone thought to bully me. Soon, the bullies never bothered with me anymore. I was safe in school, but home was a different matter.
Dad was bigger and stronger than me. I could do nothing when he knocked me around, and my mother didn't care much.
But I wasn't going to stay small forever. I grew up.
I was thirteen when I first defended myself against my father. Blocking his slap made me feel like I'd finally broke free, and the look on his face when he realized I had grown taller, bigger, angrier, was worth it.
I transferred to another elementary school a couple of years later, and Sapphire and I didn't go to the same middle school. I saw her sometimes around town. But I was never brave enough to approach her. She was always surrounded by her friends. Always smiling. A sun I was afraid to eclipse if I got close enough.
When I saw her on our first day of high school, my heart had beat so fast I was afraid it would stop. I would be able to see her more regularly. Maybe we'd even be in the same class. Maybe she'd remember me.
But her gaze always flitted right past me. And I convinced myself it was for the best.
So I stayed away from her. The questionable reputation I'd gained in late middle school got worse.
I kept a questionable company. Smoked. Drank. Fought. Slept around. Did all the things I shouldn't do. At sixteen, I got embroiled in an illegal fighting ring in a club on the edge of town. Seeking a thrill that never seemed to fill the void within me.
Fighting seemed to be the only thing I was good at. Not that I went around asking for trouble. But with my build and shitty character, people were quick to take offense or launch themselves at me.
Three years went by. Three years of pining after a girl who didn't even know I existed. Three years of watching her from afar like a creep.
In the first week of our last year of high school, I got lucky.
* * *
I strode down the hallway, heading to the back door. I had to check on that black kitten. I'd found her in the alley behind the school building a few days ago. Her mother didn't seem to be around. So I brought her food and a small blanket to keep her warm.
I wished I could take her home with me. But home was... it was not home. I couldn't bring myself to take her to that viper's nest.
"Hey, Jamison!" Someone called out. "Jamison!"
Damn it. I knew that tone of voice. It was a fight waiting to happen. I stopped and turned. Other students wisely gave me a wide berth. The asshole striding down the hallway clearly wasn't as smart.
He wore an impressive scowl. Animosity darkened his eyes. My muscles tensed up.
His nostrils flared. "You slept with my fucking girlfriend!"
I frowned. Who the hell was this idiot? "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Samantha, you fucking asshole!" He shoved me. I took half a step back, my temper flaring. After being a punching bag for the first thirteen years of my life, I didn't appreciate others putting their hands on me.
"I said, I don't know what you're talking about," I gritted out. Samantha? Who the hell was that? The name triggered a flash of blond hair and blurry features. Oh, right.
I sighed. "She's the one who came onto me. I didn't know she had a boyfriend. If you have a problem, talk it out with her."
"You fucking liar!"
He tried to shove me again. My hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, twisting. He yelped, his face contorting in pain. I let go and shoved him back. "Fuck off. I'm not in the mood."
I didn't want to get in a fight in school. It was more pain than it was worth. But the blond bastard clearly had other ideas.
His eyes flickered around, noticing the gathering crowd. He glared at me. He was too committed now, his ego wouldn't let him back down. What a fucking pain.
He dropped his backpack and came at me with a roar, swinging his fist. I dodged with a mile to spare and aimed a quick kick at his side. He grunted and crouched, holding his side. He tried launching himself again, but I just kicked him away.
"You fucking trash! You think you're better than everyone just because you're rich!" He sneered.
I shoved him into the lockers with a loud clatter. The crowd around us cheered and jeered, feeding into the violence.
"Shut the fuck up," I snarled. The world beyond him disappeared, all my senses focused on him. I hated my father. More, I hated the idea of being associated with him in any way. People thought I was proud of belonging to the Jamison family. They had no idea how damn wrong they were.
"Or what?" The blond spat out. "You're going to go cry to Daddy about it-"
My punch cut him off. Blood sputtered from his mouth, staining my shirt. The burn in my knuckles was welcome. Familiar. Another punch. Another.
Until someone was pulling me off of him. "Dude, you're going to kill him!"
I twisted. They let go, stepping around me to stand between me and the idiot. Twin pairs of blue eyes held me in place, piercing through the haze of fury. Recognition sparkled.
Scott and Stefan Milton. Which means...
I turned, scanned the crowd, and met the bluest eyes I've ever seen. My heart, already pumping from the adrenaline, tried to leap out of my chest.
She was looking right at me. Her glorious eyes seemed to pierce through me, right into my dark soul.
Over the years, I lost count of how many times I wanted her to look at me. To acknowledge me with just a look.
But it had to finally happen at the worst possible moment. What would she think?
I could feel blood rushing to my face. I looked away, snatched my backpack off the floor and marched off.
She was probably terrified of me now. And maybe that was for the best. I wouldn't be good for her, anyway. The farther away she stayed for me, the better it was for her.
Yes. It was for the best.
So why did my chest feel like it was about to implode?
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Hey guys!
Did you enjoy Hunter's POV?
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I'm thinking of writing a few more chapters from Hunter's POV. Which ones do you want to see? Let me know in the comments!
Much love <3 <3 <3
M.B.