Becoming a Jet

CHAPTER 2

Isabella's POV:

"Those are some nasty cuts." Riff said as he cleaned them up.

I was scared to tell him what was the actual cause behind those cuts. My dads pocket knife. He would sometimes call me out in the hall if my grades weren't up to his standards and cut my right wrist a few times.

"I know." I said with tears in my eyes.

"What? Does it sting?" Riff lightly chuckled.

"No."

"Then what is it?"

"My dad made those cuts." I said, my breath shaky.

"What?!" Riff said, shocked. I think he was about to tear up too.

"When my grades aren't good enough, he'll cut my wrist." I said, now crying.

"Did he make the bruises too?"

"And my mom did." I said while nodding.

"Oh my god." He said.

"With a belt." I said tearing up.

"You need to leave them. They obviously aren't feeding you enough either."

"Where would I even go?" I said, breath shaking as I wiped the tears off of my face.

"Maybe with me and the boys."

"The Jets?" I ask, perking up.

"Yeah. Wait? How do you know the Jets?" He asked bandaging the last of my cuts.

"You walk past my window everyday." I say with a slight smile. "I should be going. Thank you for tending to my wounds."

"Where do you live? I'll come by tomorrow to help you sneak out of your house."

I told him my address.

"Pack all of your clothes and essentials. I'll see you tomorrow." He said, escorting me to the door.

"See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow."