Blind To It || Dylan O'Brien Fanfiction

3

Chelsea

Why is he here? We lock eyes for a split second, then he takes off. I roll my eyes turn back to the woman I was speaking with. I know she thinks she can help me.

She can't.

She can't make all this go away.

"Miss Moore, you really should go see a doctor. The robber really beat you up. I'll give you my card, and I also have one for a therapist. I'll contact your guidance counselor too. It will help with the trauma."

I glare at her. I already explained that I do not need any help. I hate people like this. She hands me the cards and I turn to Becky - Who, thank God, isn't hurt. "Hey. Would you throw these away for me?" I ask, just a little too loudly. Becky nods, eager to help, and takes off for the garbage can.

I know the woman head me. She turns with her mouth open and I smile sweetly, waving for effect. She almost pushes over a cop trying to get back to me.

"What do you think yo-" she begins to scold me.

"Maybe if you shut your face for just a moment, you would be able to grasp the fact that I do not want nor need your help. Leave us alone," I say quietly. I don't care who I'm offending, I never cared who's feelings I hurt in the first place. As long as it's not Becky.

The woman's jaw dropped. "Well, excuse you, young lady! You need to watch your mouth. What are your parents teaching you these days? To talk back? Where is your mother, Miss Moore? I need to have a talk with her!"

"Wow!" I say sarcastically, anger and sorrow bubbling up within me. "You must know everything about my situation, because you're an adult! And adults know everything, right? Well, I'll walk you to my mother's tombstone if you would like, ma'am." I blink away tears.

The woman looks taken aback. She's silent, but only for a split second. "Oh, well as sorry as I am about your mom, you should still be learning how to be a good person from your dad! You-"

"A good person?" I'm almost yelling. "A good person? Are you serious? Do you have any idea what I've been going through for the past two years? Do you really think he's bringing in any money?" I motion towards Phillip, who is sitting with his back against a tree, drowning a bottle of wine that I had put in the trash. "We have nothing, and my sister is growing up here! Do you not get that? She has nothing! Did you see her eye? The robbers didn't do that!"

Don't cry, Chelsea. Keep it together.

The woman looks startled. She's gaping at me with a mix of pity and unhappiness.

No. That was too far. I shouldn't have told her all that, she'll try to help me. I sink down to the ground and hold my head in my hands.

"I need you to come with me, so you can get a medical examination."

She must be joking. I look up. She's not.

I stand up and walk right past her, past the police on my porch, past the reporters. I see Becky and motion for her to follow me. We're not staying here right now. We need to leave.

"Chels, where are we going?"

"Ice cream sound good?"

"Um, of course!" Becky says excitedly.

I smile a little. "Let's go."

Just a little.

Dylan

Thomas's blonde-haired head appears on my screen as he calls me. I slide to answer.

"Hey, dude, have you been watching the news?" I ask Thomas.

"I was going to ask you the same question."

"So that's a yes."

"Yeah. Do you wanna meet anywhere? Because that's your girl."

"Sure. Why not," I reply dryly, rolling my eyes.

"Are you alright though?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's just that..."

"I'm fine."

Thomas pauses.

"Frozen yogurt place?"

"Let's. See you in 15."

"Mkay." Thomas hangs up.

I slide my phone in my pocket and grab my coat off the rack. Time to go.

-

The frozen yogurt place is closed October through February. It's suppose to open back up in a couple days, so that means the outside sitting area will be clean and perfect for a conversation. The place is simply called 'Frozen Yogurt'. Easy enough to remember.

I arrive before Thomas, but I can't sit down. We'll have to go somewhere else.

Chelsea and her sister are sharing a 5 gallon bucket of ice cream. Each holds a plastic spoon. They're obviously deep in a conversation.

Not a good time.

"Hey Dylan!" Thomas hollers obliviously.

An even worse time.

Chelsea glances up and sees me.

She says something to her sister and starts moving towards me.

Chelsea's expression is dead calm. It makes me even more afraid of her than when she's seething. There's also bruised covering half her face. She looks so menacing, but it doesn't suit her. Someone like Chelsea should be showing off a flower crown, not bruises from a fight. But with her impulsiveness and high level of sarcasm, I wouldn't be surprised to hear if she got punched in the jaw.

I'd just be angry.

My stomach drops. Maybe she didn't fight anyone to get those bruises.

"Hello, John Doe. Tomorrow, we are going to meet during lunch, I'll be at table 5 in row 3. And we are going to talk, because you seem to be stalking me, even after I've asked you to leave me be. So, I will see you then, and not any time before."

She spins on her heel and walks back to her sister.

I turn around and tell Thomas the whole thing as we walk back to my house.

"She thinks I'm a stalker."

"Hey. Don't be so negative. Stalkers care about their victims, right?"

"Shut up."

"Love you too."

"Yeah yeah. But did you see her face?"

"I get that you think she's the most ma-"

"No, I mean the bruises."

"No, but why would she have bruises?"

I'm quiet for a minute. I can think of several reasons, but right now, only one comes to mind.

Her father. That drunk. He must have beat her.