Losing Chase

The Start of Something Big

My phone buzzes in my pocket, drawing my attention from my chemistry notes. I look up at the librarian, who watches us like a hawk, her rule posters like a halo around her body. Propping my notebook up, I pull my phone out and quickly turn it to silent.

Looking at the text, I nervously flicker my eyes to the librarian before quietly standing and heading to the bathroom. I can feel her eyes following my turned back, raising goosebumps on my arms. Luckily the library bathroom has two entrances, allowing me to sneak out the other side and down the empty halls.

I hear it before I see it. A body racking sound, full of pain and suffering, all coming from my best friend. I rush around the corner and over to her curled up body, winding my arms around her body and pulling her onto my lap.

She looks so small, I can feel my heart breaking at the sight. All I can do though is rub her back and try to bury her pain away.

"Shh, it's alright Chase, nothing's going to hurt you, you're safe now." Her sobs turn to sniffles and I can feel her starting to come back to the present. "That's it shortie, nothing is going to hurt you anymore."

I can hear her giggle through the tears as she leans back into my chest, uncurling her body into mine. When she finally looks up at me, I gasp, anger surging through my body. Her face, which is blotchy and red from crying, is covered with fresh bruises and welts. I can also see more colouring on her arms.

I want to break the person who broke her, make them sorry for hurting such a beautiful and innocent girl. Deep in her eyes is a type of feeling I have never seen in her, betrayal.

"Who did this to you?" I whisper, flattening her hair down. My voice is low and dangerous, startling Chase. Her eyes widen, sensing the storm clouds in my head.

"No one, I fell." She replies, looking down with shame in her eyes. I want to push her, I want to scream and shout until she tells me who hurt her so, but I don't. I could never do that to her. Instead I get up, pulling her along and wrapping her in a bear hug.

"I won't leave your side until you're sick of me" I mumble in her ear, earning another giggle as she hides the pain deep down inside like I know she's doing. I wish she would tell me what happened, knowing the brooding that she'll do when she's alone.

"It's too late for that," She mutters, all signs of crying gone from her voice, "I was sick of you years ago." I snort and push her arm lightly, immediately rewinding my arm around her and pulling her into my body.

Leading her down the hall, I am content to just let her lean her head against my chest, her eyes far away in thought. When we reach the library washroom again, I turn her towards me in another hug, my face immediately burying into the crook of her neck.

Her arms are tight around my torso, sucking the energy out of my body and into hers.

"Don't think too much, alright?" I murmur, feeling her nod against my chest. With that, I head back into the library with one last glance at her, and the look on her face nearly draws me back into her arms. A lone tear runs down the patchwork that is her face and I feel my heart breaking into millions of pieces.

"So Blaine, how are you taking this?" Mr. Horwsbe, the school's therapist, asks, his voice void of all emotion. I snort and continue looking past his head, letting my vision blur everything out. I can hear his sigh from my seat and my smile gets even bigger, glad to have frustrated him.

I don't turn my head when someone slips into the room at Mr. Horwsbe's wave, content on ignoring everyone until I'm allowed to go home. I don't need to talk, I just need to get over myself. "Blaine, honey," My mother's voice rings out from next to me and I stiffen in my seat, "I want you to let us in, I need you to. I don't know what to do anymore, I don't know how to act. Please honey tell me what you are feeling."

I'm not feeling anything, that is what's wrong. But I can hear the pain in her voice, and I hate hearing her suffer. Turning my head towards her, my eyes still on the floor, I nod once and know that is all she needs from me. Actions do speak louder than words, at least, that's what she taught me.

She sighs, standing and placing her hands on my shoulders.

"Mr. Horwsbe, I think that was enough for today, I am going to take him home and let him get some rest." My mother states, the authority clear in her voice, tempting the therapist to argue. He nods as well, his actions strained.

The drive home is worse than the therapy session was. Silent and awkward, my every movement analized. By the time we reach the driveway, I'm unnerved enough to hop out of the car before we even stop.

I won't be interrogated by her either.