Camping with the Jerk

Chapter 11

Wattpad, you jerk. I put up this really short yet loving letter to the fans and now I have to rewrite it. Thanks a lot.

Okay, so. I love you all. Like, a lot. And I'm sorry it takes me forever to write, but don't think you're unappreciated. Lots of love xx

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Chapter 11

It wasn't the first time someone had looked at me with pity. However, it was most definitely new for me to sit there silently while an extremely handsome guy rubbed alcohol on a cut. My head stung from the landing mixed with the cleaning alcohol Colton was applying.

"You're going to get yourself killed one day," he murmured softly.

I closed my eyes and let out a breath of warm air. I could feel his hands pulling a bandage tight around my head, tying it into a secure knot. The pressure of the bandage reduced the throbbing slightly, but I still winced as he adjusted it.

"I fixed you up," he said, a little bit brighter this time. "Now you tell me the story."

My back relaxed slightly as I laid down on his bed. The fact that it was a guy's bed didn't bother me as much as I thought it would. Then again, why would it, with the events that had recently taken place?

My eyes squeezed shut for a mere second before I opened them again to meet Colton's gaze.

"He didn't do it."

Colton stared at me blankly, presumably waiting for me to elaborate. When nothing came, his lips pressed hard into a thin line. "Who didn't do what?"

"Davis didn't rape me."

"But he tried," he said pointedly.

I only shrugged. After a moment, I continued. "I don't know. I mean, he could have, I suppose. But he didn't, and I don't want to find out if he would."

Another shrug.

"You're out of your mind," he ground out. "The bastard violated you and you're going to sit there and vouch for him? That's not what victims do."

I sat up quickly, throwing my glare at the boy sitting in front of me. "Maybe that's because I don't want to be a victim. I'm a big girl, Colton. I can handle this myself."

"Then why haven't you?" he exploded. "Why did you wait this fucking long before you decided it was a good idea to tell someone?"

I pointed at the steaming Hulk. "For the record, I never decided it was a good idea. You just happened to be a freakish stalker."

He didn't say anything for a long time and I wondered if he was going to hit me. Sure, I was being annoying, but I didn't want him to make this seem like such a big deal. He didn't go all the way, and I'm fine. No point in arguing over it.

That was what I thought before I saw him standing up. His long legs carried him towards the cabin door and out into the cool night. It was still extremely dark and his body cast long shadows along the dirt.

"Where are you going?" I hissed.

He didn't answer.

So I grabbed him by the arm and hauled him to a stop.

"Back off," he growled.

"What are you doing?"

He shrugged of my hands and continued on, past my cabin, and a long way away from Davis's. I was grateful for that, at least. It meant he wasn't planning on committing murder. Or torture. Of anything of the sort. My relief ran short when the guy came across a pay phone and slammed a dollar into it.

"Who are you...." I stopped when I saw the first two numbers.

9-1-

Before I could stop myself, he was on the ground and I was on top of him. His fingers had dropped the phone and he was struggling to get me off. I put everything I learned about self defence into this standard maneuver, pinning his arms down with all my weight and moving up to straddle his abdomen. That way, he couldn't kick me off.

"Please don't tell," I pleaded.

Colton froze underneath me for a second. Then his eyes turned stony and his body went tense. I could have sworn I felt his breathing halt for a few seconds as his handsome features drew into a scowl.

"Why shouldn't I? So the bastard can go even further? So they can hurt you?" He was standing now and I was left on the dirt, too shocked to follow his movements. "Tell me, Jessica. Did you ever think that someday, he wouldn't be enough with just you?"

I didn't know where he was going with this.

"What if," he continued, "Davis just decides he wants somebody weaker. Someone who won't put up such a fight? What if he goes after someone much, much smaller?"

By this point, my skin was cold and my heart was pounding in my ears. Like a drumbeat, preparing troops for a battle. I don't know why, but my lungs weren't working properly anymore.

Maddie. He was talking about Maddie.

And the thing is, I don't think Davis would have had a problem with that idea.

Next thing I know, my feet were guiding me somewhere. My head spun and my eyes burned and my feet just wouldn't stop moving.

Then I was in my cabin. Nobody was in there. I don't know why.

They're probably in the mess hall.

I ignored the jump my stomach gave when I thought about Davis and Maddie in the same room together. She was with Gina and Maya. She was safe.

My hands were digging through my bag, feeling through the seams.

And then I felt it.

I couldn't go after David. I couldn't murder him or hurt him in any way. If he decided to press charges for attack, it would be his word against mine and there would be no proof that he ever touched me. None at all. So I did the next best thing.

Cold, silver metal. My fingers gripped it tightly and it shined where the light hit it.

I wanted to stop that sharp stabbing in my chest. I wanted out. I wanted Davis dead. I wanted Maddie safe. I wanted Daddy. I wanted my mommy back. I wanted...I wanted...

I wanted everything I couldn't have.

And I dragged the small piece of metal across my skin, tracing over old scars that I didn't make. My fingers, cold and numb, gripped the blade tighter and I did it again.

And again.

And again.

And I didn't want to stop.

I wouldn't have if it hadn't been for the tan hand that broke into my vision. My arm wasn't moving anymore. There were thin lines of blood, drawn across my wrist. But they didn't leak. They weren't even deep.

A pitiful sound ripped through my throat. A whine or a sob, I don't know which. But it tore through me and my fingers went limp and my eyes felt wet and my throat was tight and I couldn't fucking breathe.

Then he hugged me and I think I blacked out again.

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I'm sorry about the self-harm in this, but I felt it was something a person in her position might think of. Just try to feel from her point of view and I think you'll get it.

Forever and Always,

Me

P.S. I feel as if the title just doesn't cut it for the story itself. I think I should change it. Tell me what you think (and if you're pro-change, hit me up with some ideas)!!