𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 - Ginny and Georgia

21

The drive home was filled with nothing but Peter blasting his music over the speakers and his foot tapping stressfully onto the floor, trying to distract himself from the uncomfortable silence.

He had driven her home after they had made it out of the classroom considering a bruise was beginning to form on her face and he didn't want anyone to ask questions about it.

Her heart was aching as she sat there utterly speechless, occasionally glancing over to Peter who's eyes were on the road. She wondered how he had it in himself to punch her as he did. The boy who had the reputation of being the "goody-two-shoes" out of the football boys. But, again if that was how the boys perceive him she couldn't even imagine how any of them truly were.

She knew he was easily aggravated, but she'd never imagine he'd ever hit her.

When he dropped her off she let out a weak goodbye before she got out. She didn't look back at him as she made her way into her house, meet by her swaying mother singing to a Harry Styles song. Lights up.

One thing that woman could be praised for was her immaculate taste of music. Nothing else really.

As she spun around she came to a halt when she saw Amelia's face, a puzzled facial expression as she remarked. "You look like you need a drink"

Or a few.

After at least twenty minutes of being downstairs with her, and a refreshed sense of buzz she retrieved to her room. She closed the door behind her and turned on the lights as her eyes instantly landed on her mirror, an awful sensation in her stomach.

She let out a deep breath as she made her way over to it, observing herself closely as she let out a fragile gasp. There was a black eye forming on her face which she knew would be pretty noticeable.

She felt sick to her stomach, but she pushed the feeling away like she so often was used to doing. Plus those few shots she downed with her mother helped her immensely to not feel as freaked out as she would be sober.

She couldn't help but think of Marcus and how he'd never hit her. How every time she wore something a little daring he only applauded her.

She missed him.

She went over to her closet, this time retrieving something that wasn't an alcohol bottle. She took out a hoodie, throwing it over her head only to be met with the smell of his cologne, the smell of him. It was the hoodie he had given him at the sophomore sleepover when they both were laying on the grass staring at the stars, and she was feeling cold.

And, she fell asleep in it, imagining him lying there beside her, holding around her.

—-

Amelia woke up some hours later and glanced out her window to see it had turned dark outside. As she sat up she noticed that she had become increasingly soberer and she could feel a pain in her chest mixed with a headache probably from the pressure of Peter's fist. She could feel her emotions clearer now and it scared her. She didn't want to feel the reality of what had happened. It was too much to fathom.

As she got up she had on a pair of sweatpants and her slippers as she grabbed her mint box which laid on her table as well as a lighter. She pulled the hood on the hoodie over her head.

She went outside and sat down on the curb feeling the mild wind hit her face as she opened her mint box, pulling out a blunt before putting it on her lips, lighting it.

She felt her body started to relax after a few drags and her mind become a bit more peaceful. That was until—

"Is that my hoodie, Blackwell?" a way to familiar voice remarked as a skateboard could be heard getting closer and closer until he stopped up by the right side of her, skateboard in hand.