Symone wasn't home when I got there, so I was able to quickly change my clothes without being questioned on where i got them and where my other clothes were.
I honestly wasn't in the mood for any questions. Plus I got school tomorrow! I'm od upset right now. I don't even cry. Crying is something I can't seem to stop doing.
I changed into some baggy black sweatpants and a large white t-shirt. I got into the other bed and pulled out my phone. Five missed calls; seven new messages; three voicemails.
All from Anthony. I rolled my eyes and shut off my phone without even checking anything. After tonight, I realized I have to look out for myself. Can't trust nobody. Can't depend on nobody. It's me, myself, and I.
I bit my lip and closed my eyes. What was I doing? How could tonight have happened?
Just a terrible dream. That's it.
When I wake up, my phone wont be blowing up. Everything will be fine. Bad dream. That's all this is.
Bad dream.
I closed my eyes, trying to believe it. Trying to believe that it was really jist a dream.
I couldn't have possible really been raped.
I felt tears roll down my cheek.
Just a bad dream....
I opened my eyes and winced as sunlight poured through the curtains. I rolled over and looked at Symone's bed. She wore pajama shorts and a t-shirt and her hand was carelessly thrown over her face. She snored loudly, and I chuckled.
Standing up, I groaned and stretched my arms over my head. I then made my way to the bathroom and took a nice shower. After pulling on a pair of black skinny jeans, and a white Batman tee. Since it was particularly hot today, I chose to.wore my white sandles and quickly tied my hair up into a messy bun.
"Mmm..." Symone sighed, rolling over in her bed and groaning. "Why are you up so early, Roxanne?"
I glared at her. "Because we have school."
"No," she argued, "you have school. I have the 'flu'."
I rolled my eyes at her. Oh hell no. I was not going to school alone. I am not going to let her stay home and rest while I have to put up with dramatic bitches and...Anthony.
"Oh, no you don't," I growled, yanking her leg. She barley budged, gripping onto thr headboard. "Symone, get up!"
I closed my eyes and let out an irritated huff when she threw a pillow at my face. Symone hated getting up early. Especially for school. Trying to remain calm, I locked my arm around her ankle and pulled as hard as I could. She slid off the bed and landed on the ground with a hard thump.
"Bitch," she muttered, standing up and rubbing her butt. "You should wear my hoops."
"What hoops?"
"The big bamboo ones. They'd go so cute with that outfit." Symone walked over to a box and pulled out the hoops. Handing them to me, she looked over my outfit and nodded in approval. "And maybe some lipstick? Either red or pink. I vote red."
I rolled my eyes. "No thanks."
"Oh come on. They'll pop."
Symone's eyes brightened as I put on the earrings. I shook my head.
"I don't think I want my lips to pop."
Rolling her eyes, Symone turned around and stalked towards the bathroom. "I'm in the shower."
I looked down at my sandles and frowned. They were cute, but it didn't seem right. I took then off and pulled on my Reverse 11s, nodding to myself. Much better. Way more comfy.
I quickly did my makeup. Eyeliner, mascara, some lip balm...I was good to go. I glanced at myself in the mirror.
I'm not going to lie. Last night was the worst night of ny life. I was seriously planning on wearing the baggiest sweats I own and a t-shirt. No make up. Hair up. But I'd be damned if I let that bastard get to me.
Too late.
I mentally kicked myself. Stop it, Rocks. Your stronger than this. You're stronger than all of this. Symone came out only in a towel. After twenty minutes she was ready. She looked cute in her black skater skirt and red geek crop top. Her red toms went perfect with her outfit and she applied red lipstick.
"You won't wear it, I will," she shrugged.
I give her a small smile.
Time for school.
"Hey, guys, lookin' bute." Max steps up to us and wraps his arms around our waists'.
Symone blushed and looks down.
"Aww, Mo, don't be all shy." I teased, sticking out my tongue.
She glared at me and then flipped me off. I snickered and walked off to go to my locker. Too bad someone got there first. I stalked over there, glaring at him. I didn't want to deal with this right now. Not ever.
"I thought I told you to stay away from me."
Anthony gave me a sheepish grin. "I really want to talk to you, Roxie."
"No," I tried to remain calm. "You're in a gang, Anthony. Ya know what that means? You're dangerous. So are your little friends."
"They aren't my--"
"And I'm not going to place myself in harms way because you're a bit attractive. I was fucking raped last night, incase you forgot."
"That wasn't my fucking fault!" Anthony shouted.
"The hell it wasn't!" I growled, pushing him against the locker. "It happened because of you. It was a message to you. I was collateral damage. So don't give me that bullshit."
Anthony glared at me before his eyes softened. "Roxanne--"
"No. I don't want anything to do with you. Vincent is a bad guy. You are a bad guy. I don't need nor want that, so just stay the fuck away from me."
I turned to walk away, but his hand latched itself around my wrist. He pulled me to him. We were so close, I could feel his heartbeat against my chest. I stared up at him, trying to block the emotions swirling around in me.
He made me mad and happy at the same time. He brought out the worst and best in me. He made me remember and forget the best and worst times. I didn't understand him I didn't understand this. I closed my eyes and leaned into him. Ugh, he was killing me.
Anthony was things I couldn't explain. He had this...way with words. He was so convincing. But I was too smart. I had heard it all. I'd been through it all. How can I sit here and pretend like I didn't feel the emotions? How can he cause all this without even trying? Without even caring?
"I did care, you know. I still do," he whispered into my ear.
I shook my head, not believing him. I struggled against him.
"Stop fighting me, Roxanne. Just feel."
I tried to pull away but his hand gently gripped onto my waist and pulled me impossibly close. His other hand cupped my cheek. I leaned into him, involuntarily.
"I don't trust you," I said, not moving.
It was true. I did not trust Anthony. Not with my life. I had no reason to. Anthony's apart of something I have no interest in. A gang. I'm not even trying to judge, dead ass.
I just can't keep getting hurt.
"Not yet," he replied before crashing his lips to mine.
YOU ARE READING
He's That Thug
Teen FictionRoxanne (Roxie) is sixteen with a hard life. Her mom died shortly after Roxanne's birth. Her father, blaming it on Roxanne, is now an alcoholic and abuses her. Burdened with her private life at home, she goes to school with a whole different persona...