She slammed the door behind herself with such fury, that for a second a grimace of regret splashed upon her face, believing she may have broken the glass panel centred in the oak. That afternoon could have ended in a mere argument, but for the events which followed that shaded green glass design shattering upon the floor.
This pushed Leonard’s disbelief of his wife’s anger over the edge, the information he passed on to her, though he knew would not be met with the warmest welcome, surely did not warrant the actions which followed.
He felt the glass crack beneath the leather sole of his shoes as he followed her out.
‘Perfect, just perfect, I try to make one positive step for us and you fly off like you always do. I expected a bit of a fight but Jesus Rose, what’re you doing?’
Rosalina could hear her husbands remarks echoing up the stairwell as he shouted to her, the stone walls mirroring each word as she lay face down on her bed, the last thing she heard of her husband was the whistle for his dog, and the front door closing behind him.
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Floyd was attempting to lift an autumn branch from its prior detainee, the de-rooted tree from a recent storm had left a community of branches and leaves perfect for a dog’s post afternoon entertainment, and Leonard looked on as he leaned down to touch the golden coat of his closest friend. He didn’t realise how far he had walked in his haste to leave his house, he had well passed the local town centre and was beginning to enter an area which he remembered from his childhood, and with the ever approaching darkness, he began to quicken his pace and glanced behind him as Floyd abandoned his venture and leaped over the tree to join his master’s side.
They had reached the end of the park when they heard the low moan, echoing out of the underpass, a grumble made only more foreboding by the setting in which it had been placed, the unlit subway filling Leonard with uncertainty. He stood still, Floyd, reacting to his sudden change in energy, also stopped beside him and let out a low growl. The noise from the subway repeated, followed by a fluidic cough, to Leonard’s ears sounding like a mixture of blood and vomit coming from whomever the mouth belonged. They edged closer down the steps, still unable to see any cause for the noise, until they noticed the shoes, knocked clean off. The victim had stared at those stained keds for over 40 minutes, they were the only thing he had looked at until he saw the golden Labrador which stood about 10 feet away from him, next to a large suited man, and he couldn’t help but be confused by the Wellington boots which accompanied the mans dark pinstriped suit.
Floyd’s low growl reached a crescendo and he let out a strong bark, raising the thick hair upon his back as he edged in front of his master, a natural instinct for a dog with ever growing nobility, until he was pacified by a touch from Leonard’s hand, murmured ‘Easy, white fang, it’s ok.'
The boy couldn’t have been older than 16, a commonly dressed young man in dark hooded apparel suitable for the teenagers which frequently occupied areas such as this unlit underpass on a darkened autumn evening, but Leonard had procrastinated far too long in looking at the young man and now had to act on his instincts.
‘Are you ok, son?’ he asked.
The young man’s eyes filled with fear, he wasn’t scared of Leonard, although his size could be intimidating if he was placed in more aggressive uniform, and such a frame had earned him the nickname ‘Blaze’ when he was growing up, before shedding his aesthetic looks and feared family history for a more academic dichotomy in life.
Both Leonard and his dog could sense the overwhelming anticipation in the boy’s eyes, and as they each moved past him, Leonard uttered nervously,
‘I’m going to send someone down ok, you look in a bad way, just stay there you’ll be alright.’
The blow was sharp and struck Leonard deep. He felt a thump in his chest as the force landed on the arch of his back, a blunt object almost cracking on impact with the ferocity of the swing. He was still conscious and immediately swung himself onto his back, the dirt and taste of the subway floor awakening him from his daze like a sharp adrenaline boost to his heart, he couldn’t see Floyd.
The previously injured boy, though still hurt and limping, was picking his old torn shoes up and started to stamp his feet into them, looking visibly shaken when he caught the gaze of the big man who stood over Leonard.
‘What the fuck you didn’t even knock him out?
Where’s his dog?
Jesus Christ Cal, you can’t fuckin’ do anything can you?’ said a blurred figure.
Leonard guessed he was about 6 foot 3, shorter than himself, and the attacker who had struck Leonard looked weakened as he was hit with a sharp rabbit slap to the back of his head.
glad to finally see you on here. Sorry it took me so long to get around to this but here I am now. The name's Amie, and I'll be your reviewer today - but, hell, you knew that already. (Just a quick note... why aren't you following me back yet MR? 
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