Turmoil

She sells, Sea Shells...

Atlanta

"Hey seashell"

I freeze. My brain struggles to process all the thoughts, tumbling out one after the other, in a chaotic tangle of how's and why's .The woods look too placid for it to be true. Yet, I would know that voice anywhere.

The voice of cancer fumes and maybe's.

"Jordan,"

When I imagine dickheads, or a particular dickhead, his face, cocky and arrogant springs to mind. To be honest, anyone named Jordan is just more likely to be an asshole. It's in the name.

And as unlikely as it is that he followed me here, when I turn, my eyes latch onto his stupid face, his stupid body, his stupid essence leaning against a tree.

He looks the same, sandy hair ingrained with molten bronze, fried by the heat, electric with gel. The inevitable summer tan, tinting his skin with all hues of edible. And the leather jacket, slung over his shoulders.

Stupid, hot, Jordan.

"I despise it when you call me seashell"

From my tone you'd think we were friends.

"You loved it a week ago,"
I roll my eyes at him, hands slipping across my chest. A defensive stance.

My heart is on a bordaline panic attack. I'm not sure why it's racing, why it's pounding.
Jordan won't hurt me.
Jordan can't hurt me.
You don't know that.

"I can smell the cocky right off you," I tell him "is today some sort  of national asshole day that no one warned me about?"

From the very start, Jordan and I were perfect. A seamless match blending together, he had the perfect snarky look to counter my big mouthed self.

We were both bored, both from  the same world, looking for adventure.
Well he was mine. Jordan was my adventure, swirling with the smell of motorcycles and dripping oil on concrete floors. Skinny dipping in places no one can see and hot, half drunk making out was our signature essence.

"Still in tune with your inner sass I see," he pulls out a packet of cigaretts and offers me one. I shake my head no, decling the outstretched tube of cancer and he shrugs his shoulders, as if to say, suit yourself.

"I'd ask what you're doing here, but I think I know,"
"Really?" the end of the tube consisting of a thousand toxic substances glows red "and why's that?"
"I doubt it was to see Phoenix," I raise my eyebrows at him.
Jordan's face twists, just a little, the features on his face becoming hard and sculpted out of steel.

He and my "former- best- friend-or-maybe-still-friend-but-I'm-not-sure-cause-we're-not-talking " don't have a rosy history.

"No, it wasn't baby," there, that word, familiar on his lips. Baby. "so how you've been?"

"That's a stupid question for two exes to ask each other. The person asking wants their ex to be shattered, and the person being asked will lie,"

He laughs. That is the way Jordan deals with the things that come out of my mouth and stayed im  the minds of others. He laughed.

"Exes? I thought we were taking a break"
"A very long one," I answer "even if you were banished to hell for all eternity it wouldn't be a long enough break for me,"
Jordan mimes being hurt.
"Ah how I missed you baby" he lets out a ringlet of smoke through pursed lips "feels like it was ages since I last saw you,"
"It's barely been a week," I retort.

Jordan doesn't drop the butt to the forest floor. He's careful like that, a nature lover. He rumages in his pocket and pulls out a small tin he always carries around. His dose of probably cancer gets sealed in the box, the tin returned to it's former place.

"Miss me?" he says.
It's our old routine, we did it every day after school. It's an invitation. I know the next words.

"Kiss me,"

Impulse. Messed up people do messed up things. Phoenix hates me. I've screwed Lorraine over so bad I have no clue how to unscrew her. I just need something easy, familiar.

Invigorating. Fun. Like Jordan.

Kissing Jordan is easy. Lips pressed against lips, his hands around my waist, fingers cupping curling, snaking in hair. Easy.
Perfect.
Jordans hand slips up my shirt, warm hands sliding over skin.

"Come on Jordan, don't, I don't want to," I'm saying.
"Don't be such a prude babe,"

Stop thinking. I pull him tighter  to me, closer, and the kiss becomes raw, hard. His tongue slips in my mouth.

"Please Jordan, you're drunk, go home,"

He swirls our bodies around and I'm pinned to the tree, lips tracing a path down my neck, nose drawing on my skin. Hands on either side. Trapped-

I'm trapped, my body pinned beneath his. My clothes are on the floor.
"No Jordan, please,"
A tear slides down my cheeck.

His fingers unhook my bra. The other hands slides downwards, and stops on my hips, lingering.
I want this.
I want this. It's okay. It's-

"Why are you crying stupid bitch," Jordan is saying "I  can fuck my girlfriend if I want to,"

My breath catches now, whole body rigid.

"No," I whisper.

Jordans hand brushes down beneath my jeans, and he yanks me closer, the other hand pulling, at my shirt at me.

No

And I'm seeing two Jordans. Doubling over , melting together, moulding onto his face like a mask.

"He didn't rape you sweetie," my "friend" says.
"That's not rape Atlanta, you know him, he's your boyfriend.
"Stop being such an attention seeking bitch Atlanta,"

I can't, I can't, I can't.
My hands fumble, trying to push him away. He presses his body against mine, the bark of the tree against my back.

NO!

The scream rips out of me, along with the perfect soaring punch into his chest. I bash my head upwards, against his jaw, and he releases me with a startled yelp, the loss of balance pulling him down onto the floor.

"What the hell Atlanta!" he's furious, one hand cradling his injured jaw "what the fuck is wrong with you?"

I'm shaking, my body a ringing phone. Tears create crystals along my face, saturated with fear and relief and anger.
So much anger.

Anger at being violated that night. Anger at all those people who called me a slut. And angry with myself for allowing him near me again.

"Don't you ever touch me again," my voice is a jagged note on the violin. With trembling hands, I fix my bra, then my hair. Fingers pick up stray tears from my cheeks.

Then I turn and walk.
Walk right into the arms of Phoenix.