Masked love

Chapter 8

Nikita's eyes opened slowly, as she stared off at the ceiling. Her entire body was numb with pain. She looked around the room she was in, making sure not to move too much. She quickly realized that she was laying on her bed in her room. She sat up slowly, and her eyes drifted to the floor. The shirt, she had been wearing earlier, was laying on the floor torn up with a folded piece of paper on top of it. She crawled out of bed to get the paper. She unfolded it and read: I'm sorry that you had to be born. You don't deserve the life your mother and I gave you. You are a murder, you took her life. There's no giving that back. I've tried to raise you right, despite the fact that you're the reason she is gone. It seems that I have failed. I don't know how much longer I can do this. You could take this chance that I'm giving you to end this, to end everything.
Tears began to run down Nikita's face. Below the text, there was a stake knife taped to the piece of paper. Her fingers delicately touched the blade. Was this what her father wanted? She looked at the mirror across her room. She could see that almost her entire upper body was bandaged, and her wavy black hair was as beaten as she was. Did she want to keep fighting despite this pain? She took the knife off the paper, and brought the blade close to her skin. Was this it? The blade cut through, and blood dripped from the wound. Memories of her life flashed before her eyes. Her body went numb. She remembered her mom's sweet smile and her loving touch, from the last time she saw her. She heard all of the fake voices from her many so called friends. The pain was disappearing as fast as her happiness had vanished. Far away from where her mind was, she could a small kitten meowing.
Her memories of Joseph made her pause. She pulled up the blade, stopping it before the wound got worse. He wanted her to keep fighting and to see her smile. He had been there for her even when she ran away. He didn't want her to disappear. She put down the knife, as her alarm ranged loudly like a gunshot. She crawled over to her dresser. Getting her first aid kit out from the bottom drawer, she wrapped up some bandages firmly around the wound she had made on her wrist. While She was putting some extra bandages in her backpack, she noticed Joseph's jacket was still in there. She had to keep fighting for him. 
Nikita got up off the floor and injected a needle in her leg to take the pain away. Afterwards she search through her dresser for a long-sleeve shirt, but couldn't find any. She couldn't mask her wound. She got dress quickly, as an idea came to her. She slipped on Joseph's jacket. The oversize sleeves covered her arms perfectly. She looked in the mirror with her brush in hand. She had wanted to braid her hair, but she couldn't find the ponytail her mother gave her. She ran the bristles through her soft threads, making her look less beaten. Her face was still red and sad. She couldn't forget the words she had read. She tried to wipe away the tears from her eyes, but time was running out.
Before she knew it, Nikita found herself standing outside waiting for the bus. She held one of the backpack's handles tightly in her hand. She could barely hold back her emotions. The hood of Joseph's jacket casted a shadow over her sad face. The bus pulled up to her house, slowly coming to a stop. She got on the bus and sat across from Joseph, without making eye contact with him. She hid his face from him, as he spoke with a smile. "Good morning, how are you?"
"Morning, I'm fine." Her voice sounded broken, although she was trying to keep it together. She could see the worry in his eyes. She put on a fake smile for him, as she let the hood fall off her face.
He gave her a half smile, as he slid his backpack into his lap. "I made you coffee. I think it's the perfect treat for these chilly autumn days." He handed her a warm cup.
Nikita took it with a happy smile, "thank you." She tried to speak cheerily. She wanted to act different, to be happier; even if it was just an act.
"Careful its hot." He was watching her, as she blew away the steam and took a sip. The warm fluid filled her empty tummy, with her cheeks turning a slight pink. Did he notice the changes? Does he see through them? She smiled, this time it was real. Joseph looked away, scratching the back of his head. She looked at him curiously. "You have a cute smile, and you look good in my jacket." He said tentatively. That was the first time in a long time that she received a compliment. She smiled. She really wanted to fully trust him, to tell him everything. What would he say? Was there still a chance that he would think she deserved it?
She wanted to return the compliment. She looked up into his eyes, uneasy thoughts filled her mind. "Thanks, you make some good coffee," she said as the bus arrived at the school.
She saw him smile big, as he said, "Thanks." The bus door open, and the students were let out. This time Nikita didn't take off, she walked calmly beside Joseph. He looked at her questionably and worryingly.
"I don't want to run anymore. I shouldn't be afraid of Stella." She said quietly. He nodded, but still kept a close eye on her. She felt his hand touch hers, but she quickly placed her hand in her pocket. She couldn't let him see her bandages. The worry in his face increased, but he remained silent. That moment did not last long.
"Getting cocky aren't we?" Stella said, stepping in front of them. Her squad of girls had gotten smaller, but they still managed to surround Nikita and Joseph. "Do you really think I'll let that little incident yesterday get overlooked? I think not." She smiled. Stella had the power, or at least she thought she did. Nikita looked her in the eye, as she started, "you know, having an older step-brother has it's perks, like how they'll teach you how to fight." Stella balled up her fist. Joseph protectively stepped closer to Nikita, as she tensed up. "You know with all the teachers inside watching the younger students, we could settle this just you and me. Or perhaps you'll just let your boyfriend fight your battle for you."
"I'm not going to fight you. What good would come from it?" Nikita asked. She could spy Stella's step-brother, watching the scene from afar. She had only heard about him, from when Zeak used to visit her in the hospital.
"Well how about this, if you win I'll leave alone from here on out?" Stella proposed. Nikita looked down at her feet. She was thinking about it, but was it even worth it? Did she even have a chance of winning? She glanced at Joseph with uncertainty. He shook his head, not liking the idea at all.
"I won't fight you, Stella. We were once friends, actually you were my first friend. I'm sorry I couldn't be a better friend to you. I never wanted to hurt you. I wish we could start over, but that's your choice." Nikita looked at Stella, as an old and distant friend.
Stella's squad of girls suddenly looked unsure. They were questioning Stella. "Sorry? Do you really think that word can wash away all our problems? You left me in the dust, and were friends with people who hurt me. After you came back from two years of morning, you tried to act like nothing had changed. I'm not that little mouse anymore!" She threw the first punch. Joseph stepped in front of Nikita, blocking it with his arm. It wasn't very strong. "Why can't you and Zeak realize that?" She hit him again. Her punches were getting sloppy, and tears were falling down her face. The other girls seemed so surprised. "I'm not that weak little girl, whose parents were constantly fighting! You had a perfect life, while I was experiencing hell." She kept throwing weak punches at Joseph, but she wanted to take it on Nikita. Nikita could see Stella's pain. Nikita held onto her wounded wrist. She was the one Stella should have been beating up on, not Joseph. She almost dug her nails into the already blood soaked bandages. 
"Joseph..." Nikita whimpered quietly. She couldn't bring herself to ask him to move. Stella stopped throwing punches and looked at Nikita with hatred. Her eyes told Nikita that this wasn't over. Stella's brother pulled her away from them, and the girls followed behind them.
Joseph scratched the back of his head. "Why do I get the feeling that this was only the beginning?" He asked rhetorically. Nikita sat down, scratching at her bandages. Her strength had been depleted. He looked back at her, sitting down on one knee. "Nikita? Are you okay?" He asked worryingly. Her face was in despair.
"Why? Why did you protect me?" She asked.
"Because, you don't deserve that. I'm not going to let you get hurt." He responded strongly. He looked down at her hands. She tried to cover her wrist with the sleeve, but she couldn't stop scratching the wound. Joseph reached towards her, but she backed away from him.
"I do deserve it. Everything she said was true. If I hadn't let her leave the group, if I had been a better friend she wouldn't be like this. It's all my fault!" She closed her eyes, wanting to disappear. She couldn't pretend anymore. She remembered the words of truth in her father's letter. You're the reason she's gone. "Everything is my fault..." She felt Joseph wrap his arms around her. Her teary face was pressed against his chest. She stopped scratching the wound.
"It's not your fault. You couldn't control this." Joseph said. Nikita wondered if she could really believe that. If he knew everything, would he still say that? She tensed up in his grasp. Joseph slowly let go of her, and looked at her face. She began to scratch at her wounds again. Joseph wiped away her tears. "You can't beat yourself up because of the choices Stella made." Nikita nodded. She knew he was right, but didn't want to accept it.
They walked into the school side by side, and to the cafeteria. Finding an empty table, they sat down across from each other. Nikita made sure to keep her wounded arm hidden under the table. "Did you eat breakfast?" Joseph asked kindly. Nikita shook her head but she didn't want to say anything. Joseph handed her a warm tub of food, and pulled out another for himself. They ate quietly in an almost awkward silence. There was a mask of worry on Joseph's face, but Nikita couldn't meet his eyes. Her right hand shook slightly with each bite. She couldn't shake the negative thoughts from her mind. Scenes from the day her mother died replayed over and over again in her mind, and she remembered how empty that white hospital room was. She had finished eating before Joseph. There was no flavor to the food just substance. She stared at the empty tub, and scratch at her wound underneath the table.
Her father had opened old wounds, and brought forth old feelings. She was falling back into the dark crevices, where her only friends were her demons. Joseph could see this, no matter how much she tried to hide it. She closed her eyes, greeting the darkness. Joseph rose from his seat. He walked over to her and saw her wounded arm underneath the table. With each scratch more blood soaked into the bandages. He kneeled down to the floor silently. His hand took ahold of hers, making her stop scratching. Nikita opened her eyes and looked at him. Tears were streaming down from his eyes. The shock hit Nikita. He was crying for her. "I'm not letting you disappear when you're right in front of me. I know this can't just be about Stella. You can't hide this sadness from me. I want to know what's going on. Will you tell me?" He asked with his voice breaking. Then the bell rang.