Recovery | On Hiatus

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"I COULD BE doing anything right now that would be better than scrubbing this floor with you."

Hayden rolled his eyes with thinly veiled disdain. "Same here, Red."

I glanced up from my spot on the floor and paused in scrubbing the old, torn up washcloth against the floor. I was growing increasingly tired of Hayden's clever nickname. "My name is Scarlet."

Hayden ignored me and continued to scrub the filthy cafeteria floor. Thinking back on it, I wasn't sure whether or not I should laugh or scream at the Hayden for his immature behavior this morning. He had goaded me as best he could until I snapped, finally spilling some of my drink down his shirt. Hayden decided to take a step on a the dramatic side and dump his entire tray on my head. Next thing I know, people are screaming about a food fight, the two of us are sent to the office, given clothes from the most-and-found, and given a long lecture about our behavior in the Principals office.

So, yeah. In conclusion, Hayden is an idiot and it's all his fault.

"Hello?" Hayden flicked his fingers in my face. "Are you listening to anything I'm saying?"

I jumped back, glaring between one blue eye and one green. Specks of brown littered his irises, and if the light hit them just right, they almost seemed to shimmer. I shook my head to dismiss the thought. "What do you want?"

"Take a picture, sweetheart; it'll last longer," he commented on my staring. He then shifted so that his legs were crossed under him and arched his back, stretching his arms above his head. "My back is killing me."

I returned to violently scrubbing the floor. "The only reason I'd ever take a picture of you would be to burn it and wish I was setting the real you aflame." I laughed when his confidence melted down to a dejected glare. He crossed his arms over his chest, the washcloth dangling loosely from his hand. "Get over yourself, Hayden."

"I have women to do that for me."

He winked.

I scrunched up my nose in disgust and shifted my attention to the hand stubbing the floor. He was kidding, I knew, but he loved making me uncomfortable any way he could. I would have preferred two hours of complete silence. "I'm pretty sure I could have gone my whole life without hearing that."

Hayden opened his mouth to retort, but the sound of the cafeteria doors opening beat him to it. My history teacher, Mr. Nelson, stepped in. He mindlessly scratches his bald head with a yawn. "Leave. I'm tired and I want to go home."

I frowned, struggling to stand as Hayden did. "It's only been thirty min—oof!" I shot daggers at Hayden for elbowing me, but received his message loud and clear. Keep your mouth shut.

"Yes, yes, two hours. I don't care." He gestured to the door with an effortless wave. "Leave, and I'll tell Williams that you guys did the full two hours." I shrugged as way of response. Mr. Nelson's shoulders sagged with relief and took that as his cue to leave. He didn't bother looking back at us as he shouted, "Clean up all those supplies before you leave, will you?"

I slid the cloth from Hayden's hands and bent down to grab my own, startling him in the process. "I'll clean up the supplies. Go home."

Hayden's eyebrows furrowed thoughtfully. "As much as I hate it, I did say I'd take you home." He started gathering supplies, but didn't stop me when I took them from him. There wasn't much to pick up: some washcloths, paper towels, a broom, mop, and done cleaning materials.

"I have things to get done before I leave," I lied. "Go home, Hayden. You should've been smart enough to know that I wasn't going to let you take me home. I'll walk; it's not the first time."

"Whatever." He shrugged. "If you don't want my help, that's not my problem. Have fun," he called, making his escape to the door. It slammed shut behind him, but I didn't miss the uncertainty in his eyes when he glanced back before the door blocked his sight.

I let out a reluctant sigh and stood. We'd barely made a dent in cleaning the stains off the discolored tiles, be it from our bickering or the stains not being removable. When I finally finished cleaning up, I stopped at my locker to put up my things, thankful for my gray hoodie that had fortunately been saved from the food-fight. It wasn't a very thick jacket, but I'd expected to only be outside for the short distance between the building and the bus. The frigid, winter air slapped me in the face as soon as I opened the double doors to the outside and I tugged the jacket tighter around me as the wind blew, stinging my skin and tinting it pink.

A scream bubbled in my throat as an arm suddenly wrapped around my shoulders, a hand securely covering my lips.m and smothering any and all cries for help. Within seconds, my spine collided painfully with the cold bricks as I was slammed into the side of the building. The corner of one of the windowsills slammed into my rib, eliciting a loud cry of pain when the gloves hand finally removed itself.

I kept my gaze on the ground, pale blonde hair sliding forward to cover my face as my only shield, though I knew it wouldn't do me any good at this point. I didn't need to look up to know exactly who my captor was. My sorry excuse for a brother grinned, fingertips digging into my shoulders. "Darrin."