First Crush

Ch 12: Violence

Dedicated: Wild_Raconteuse

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I got home early today. I looked at the grandfather's clock in the foyer. It was only half past four.

Yellow sunlight was filtering through the windows. The drapes were pulled apart and a thin, pale green curtain was showing through. It was motionless, signifying no breeze.

I walked up to my room.

As soon as I entered, I felt a slap on my cheek and fell down on the cool blue-tiled floor. My father stood above me, furious.

He clenched his fist and left the room, the doors banging shut behind him.

I was left astounded in a dim room. The windows were open, but the drapes were covering it.

Tears formed unbidden in my eyes. He rarely hurt me. When he did, there was some occasion. He was better. Better. He hasn't. Not- not in three years.

I stumbled to the calendar and looked at the date.

April 4.

Their anniversary.

I sank to the floor. How could I forget?

I closed my eyes, my cheek still stinging.

I reached for my phone and plugged my earphones in. I turned up the volume.

I scrolled down and stopped at 'I'm With You' by Avril Lavigne.

~ 

I'm standing on the bridge 

I'm waiting in the dark 

I thought that you'd be here by now

It's a dang cold night 

Trying to figure out this life 

Won't you take me by the hand 

Take me somewhere new?

...

Coz nothing's going right 

And everything's a mess...

Why is everything so confusing? 

~

This was going to bruise.

[School the Next Day]

I heard a whistle. I didn't need to turn to know who it was.

Nad asked, "Got into a fistfight?"

I turned away. I don't want to see anyone right now, much less talk.

"Did you have it treated?" Kennedy asked.

I walked away, but was stopped when my arm was pulled back roughly.

I glared at the person. Turns out to be an expressionless Kennedy. His blank face frightened me. It was so opposed to his usual cheerful, concerned one.

"Why are you mad?" he asks.

I jerked my arm away. It's not his problem. It's mine.

His hands landed on my shoulders. I tried to shrug them off, but failed. I resorted to pulling his hands off. Wouldn't work.

"What do you want?" I asked him coldly.

"Just listen. Ice pack today then hot compress tomorrow, 'kay? It'll lessen the swelling and the pain."

I felt the pressure on my shoulders disappear then turned around to see him walking away to join his gang.

I turned back and stared blankly at the hallway.

I was confused. I've been cold, I've been treating him badly, but why does he still treat me like this?

Why doesn't he get it? I pleaded silently. Kennedy, leave me alone. I don't want to grow any more closer to you.

I pressed my forehead on the cold wall beside me.

I liked the cold. It felt good. My forehead felt half numb. It felt so soothing.

Ice pack today, huh? The wall will do. I pressed my cheek on the slightly coarse surface. I sighed slowly. It hurt when touched.

I was, apparently, oblivious to the students passing by. Teachers as well, but the first one stopped beside me.

"Are you all right, Ms. Gregor?"

I opened my eyes and saw Mr. Madden. I nodded amd stood straight.

He eyed my cheek and replied, "If you say so. Check in with the nurse if you will though."

He walked away, to his homeroom class presumably.

I went off silently to my classroom, only now noticing the looks being thrown at me.

Some were looking at me weirdly. Others curiously. Others obviously felt sorry. One--pity.

A wall of resentment rose up within me. I hate being pitied. I'd had enough of that.

All throughout that whole show, I kept my face impassive.

They don't even know what happened.

[]

George made an appointment with my therapist. He says we need to talk about parental violence. I already know it's not right. What else is there to know? I'm not reporting my father either.

[A Random Park at 8 pm in the evening]

The appointment's set for tomorrow. I don't want to share anything with him. Who is he to bother my life anyway? I'm fine. I'm good. I'm more social.

Social... really isn't everything. It's not enough. Not enough at all.

No matter how much I force myself to relate to them. I can't. I just can't!

I'm not close to anyone. There's no best friend. Nothing.

I'm still like this after all these years. Yeah, maybe I'm just one of those loners.

There's a track nearby. The lights are dim, yet there are still people jogging, running, walking.

I'm leaning back against the goal post in the soccer field. Whatever it's called.

People are warm, you know? There are friends playing here. They're roughhousing. They're happy. I can hear claps and cheers. It must be nice to have your circle of friends. A place where you belong.

There are two boys not so far from where I am. They're sitting on the railing 20 meters away from me, discreetly watching.

I bet George sent them to tail me. I would have preferred to be alone. It's all right though. They're far enough not to be able to discern my face. They're giving me the space I need.

Distant laughter echoes in the bleachers.

I feel better now. I always do after I think about things.

Guess what? I haven't even thought of Kennedy today. Just only at this moment. I guess he's not as important to me as I thought he is.

What am I doing in a place like this? Won't it just make me feel more acutely aware of what I don't have?

But I love this place. The lights at the far end of the field reach here dimly enough that I'm comfortable.

You know, I actually can't remember a time when I ever just hanged with a friend in silence. I think it's something I look forward to. It would be nice, don't you think?

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