A Tale Of Two Halves

Chapter 9

"Tessa!" I hear Hardin call my name. My eyes flick open and I see the confusion in my attackers' eyes.
"Tessa!" he calls again. His voice sounds desperate, and it's coming from the street below.
"Hardin!" I call to the open window. "I'm up here!"
"Shut the fuck up, bitch!" Jared hisses and he places a hand over my mouth.
"Tessa! I'm coming!" I hear Hardin call again, and seconds later I hear the front door burst open.
I clamp my teeth down on Jared's hand, and, using his shock to my advantage, sprint towards the door.
Tom lunges forward to grab me, but his feet slide on the paint-covered floor and I manage to squeeze past him.

I sprint for the stairs, and nearly collide with Hardin as he reaches the top.
"Are you ok?" he asks, frantically running his hands over me. "Did they hurt you?"
"I'm ok," I say, but he's no longer listening. His eyes have lifted to the 2 boys now standing in the doorway of the bathroom.
"You again," Hardin growls, moving around me so that I am shielded behind him. "I thought we talked about this last time we spoke Jared. Leave her the fuck alone."
"Who the fuck do you think you are Scott?" Jared asks, although Tom seems much more accepting of this idea. He backs away, holding his hands up and mumbling, "Whatever man, this isn't worth it." Reaching his bedroom, he steps inside and closes the door.

"You pussy, Tom!" Jared calls. "Fine. I'll deal with this myself," he says, despite Tom no longer being able to hear him.
"Leave her alone, Jared. I won't ask again," Hardin says, venom dripping from his tone.
"Oh yeah? Christ you're pathetic, Scott. Protecting a fucking Poor? It's laughable. Sure you don't want to finish what we started Tessa?" he says, peering around Hardin. "That tight little body of yours was just getting me goin-."
Before he can finish, Hardin's fist collides with Jared's jaw, causing him to yell out and collapse into the wall. He sinks to the floor, holding his jaw in his hand.

Hardin turns to me. "Let's go," he says gently, putting his arm around my waist to steer me towards the stairs.
"Your hand," I say, noticing the blood that has pooled from his knuckles.
"It's okay," he says, leading me down the stairs. He pauses to grab a tea towel from the kitchen before we leave, wrapping it around his knuckles.
As soon as we're outside, Hardin turns to me again.
"Are you okay Tess? Are you hurt?" he says, concern etched on his face.
I nod. "I'm okay, Hardin. Thanks to you. I'm so sorry about earlier. I was so worried about what would happen if the Richs found out we'd been spending time together. I was afraid they'd try to hurt us, but it seems they'll try that whatever I do. And it seems like you can handle yourself," I say, my pathetic attempt at a joke.
"It's okay, Tess," he smiles. "I understand. I just, I want to spend time with you no matter what you are here. It means nothing to me."

He winces and I look down at his hand. The knuckles have already started to swell and the blood shows no sign of slowing.
"Can I take a look?" I ask, reaching for his hand.
He nods and I take his hand in mine. He needs ice on it and a bandage to slow the blood.
"Do you have supplies at your house?" I ask and he nods. We begin to make the short journey to his house, me still holding his injured fist in my hands.
"How did you know where I was?" I ask.
"You told me earlier, remember? And I was kind of hoping I'd be able to catch you leaving and convince you to let me walk you home still."
"I'm so lucky you were there. I can't bare to think what would have happened if you hadn't been." I shiver.
"Don't Tessa. Don't think about it. I'm just glad I was there. We're here."
I stop and take in the building in front of me. It's around the same size as mine, although I knew that Richs lived alone until marriage. The bricks were a golden yellow colour, much brighter and cheerier than the grey panelling that coats my own. Two windows jutted out on the ground floor, and a balcony stretches across most of the first floor exterior.
"It's beautiful," I breathe in awe.

Hardin unlocks the door and stands aside, ushering for me to enter. I take a few steps and stop again. The house is simply decorated and looks much like many of the other Rich homes I had been in. "I haven't really done anything to it yet," Hardin says, and his expression looks almost embarrassed. "The bathroom is this way," he says, and motions down the corridor.

He pushes open the door and steps inside. He sits on the edge of the bath tub and I open the cupboard above the sink and pull out various supplies. I turn to inspect his injured hand again, and he winces as I remove the tea towel from his knuckles. "Sorry," I say, running a fresh wash cloth under the tap. I dab at his hand until the blood is mostly cleared, and Hardin watches my face the entire time. Now that my adrenaline has subsided, I'm not sure what to say to him. More apologies for how I behaved at school and more thank you's for coming to my rescue again were what spring to mind, but I can't make my voice work.

Instead, I get to work sifting through the medical supplies that Hardin has. I find a bandage and begin to wrap it around his knuckles. He hisses through his teeth and I mumble a few more apologies. Eventually, I dust my hands together and smile. "All done," I say, standing up. I glance down and notice that a red stain coats the mat where I have been sat.

"Oh shoot sorry," I say, running another wash cloth under the tap and wiping the bath mat. I grimace as the stain just spreads across the once-cream mat. Hardin leans forward and stills my hand.
"Please don't," he says. "I honestly couldn't care less about that right now." I lift my eyes to his. "Your clothes," he says, gesturing to the paint that is smeared across the back of my jeans and jumper. "Let's get you something to change into."

He helps me up from the floor and leads me up a set of stairs. The corridor at the top of the stairs has two rooms dotted on each side, and a door right at the end. He walks down to the room at the bottom and pushes open the door. Peering inside, I realise it was his bedroom. I am in Hardin's bedroom. My face flushes and my stomach does one of its flips.

The bedroom seemed to be the only room in the house that Hardin had personalized. A bookcase filled with leather-bound books is positioned next to the window. A small, circular wooden table with a marble chess set sat atop it is nestled against a wall, two chairs tucked underneath. A desk with school books and a laptop. My eyes stop on a wooden photoframe that sits on the desk. The photo inside shows a younger Hardin, another boy who looked quite like him only with blonde hair and a frown on his face, and two other people who I assume are his parents. His mother's eyes are just as blue as Hardin's, and he has his father's messy brown hair. I wonder again why he had been transferred here, and why his family hadn't been transferred with him.

Hardin clears his throat and I am pulled from my thoughts. He's standing in front of a dresser, holding a black T-shirt much like the one he is wearing.
"Sorry, it's probably going to be far too big for you," he says, holding the shirt out to me. I pad across the room to him and look at the shirt. My fingers tingle as I reach out and take it from him, running the material through my fingers. I had never held a black T-shirt before. Poors were strictly forbidden from wearing black, and it was the only colour that Richs wore. One of the many ridiculous rules that came with living in this zone. I imagine what would happen if anyone found out I was here, in Hardin's house, holding a black T-shirt, and the ridiculousness of the situation makes a small laugh escape my lips.

"You ok?" Hardin asks, and I can tell that he is trying to tread carefully, unsure as to what I was feeling.
I sigh and shake my head. "Thank you, but I can't wear this." I hold the T-shirt back out to him. 'It's against the rules for a Poor to wear black. I'd be in a lot of trouble if anyone found out."
"Fuck the rules Tessa. Fuck being a Rich and fuck being a Poor. Fuck it all. It's just us here and it's just a T-shirt Tess. It's ok. You're ok here. I promise," He smiles reassuringly.
My brain swims at his words. On the one hand, my God it would feel amazing to wear black. Like a big 'screw you' to the whole stupid system, to Tom and Jared, and to every Rich who helped to make these pathetic rules. On the other hand, my years of following those pathetic rules and seeing their repercussions had instilled a deep fear into me that I'm not sure I'm strong enough to break so brazenly.

"You're safe with me, Tessa. I promise." Hardin says and he lifts his hand to cup my cheek tenderly. I inhale deeply, and as I look into those beautiful eyes, full of patience and kindness, my decision is made.