Freaks in The Night

Chapter 7- Assumptions

I stared at Jackson unsure of what to say next. I knew what I wanted to say but I was too afraid to actually say anything in fear of him hitting me once more. At the moment Jackson was bent down on the bed with his head in his hands at his knees.  I licked my lips and I crawled over to him. "Jackson" I rubbed my hand on his back and he shrugged it off. "Please Jackson look at me."  "No."  "Jackson please, look at me." I said a bit more sternly in hopes he would look up. He didn't even flinch. "Jackson look at me!" I shouted. Jackson turned and faced me in horror.  "Oh god Bridgette—oh god!" He cried out. "I'm so sorry!" He grabbed ahold of me and I felt myself stiffen in his arms.  I didn't want him to touch me. At all. But I was too scared to say anything. I wrapped my arms around him. "Jackson it's okay."  He pulled away. "It won't happen again, I promise."  I nodded. "I know, I believe you. It was an accident. You probably weren't thinking about it when you did it."  "Y-Yeah!" Jackson nodded as if he were trying to convince himself. "Yeah I wasn't thinking."  I looked down at my hands. "You did really good today, what took you so long?"  "Nothing—nothing." He repeated once more hesitantly.  "Um, can you give me a moment?" I asked. "I need to go um, clean up."  "Yes of course. Just use my bathroom or actually—" Jackson paused for a moment thinking, "go to the bathroom down the hall, the one in my moms room. There's all this first aid stuff in there."  I nodded hesitantly. I was about to question why I was suddenly allowed to go into the room down the hallway, more specifically his mothers room but I decided not to press the topic had it been one of the reasons the incident that had occurred earlier.  I stepped out into the hallway and began my way to the dark brown oakdoor. I felt as if I were a thief. Doing some mischievous deed that would end up with me in a heap of trouble. I shook off the feeling and I pulled the door open when I heard Derek call my name.  "Bridgette?"  I silently cursed myself for being so loud and I turned around with half my hair covering my face. Derek's smirking face twisted into one of pure anger.  "Oh hell no." He mumbled.  "Derek no please—please don't Derek!" I pleaded.  Derek stared at me and began to storm over to me. I backed up until my back hit the door. "Give me one f*cking reason I shouldn't pound his face into the floor right f*cking now or for f*cks sake I will f*cking kill him."  "B-B-B-" I stammered and then I burst into tears. "Because I-I n-need you to fix me b-because I can't do this myself." I whimpered. I slowly began to unravel in front of him and poor Derek stood staring down at me sympathetically.  "Oh Bridgette." Derek wrapped his arms around me and I sobbed into his chest. He pushed the door open behind me. "Sit down." Derek ordered. I followed and took a seat on the hard bed. Derek walked back out with an antiseptic and a bandage. "This is going to burn—don't scream. You can hold my hand if you'd like."  I nodded and but my lip. I gripped his hand and let out a choked out breath as I felt the him dab the damp cotton ball against my skin. It was like putting vinegar in an open wound which was probably the exact equivalent of this feeling.  Derek placed a small bandage on my face and I sighed in relief. "Thank you, really Derek. You've been a great help lately."  "Save lives and take names, that's the game."  I let out a small laugh. A few minutes later after a tense silenced I began to cry. Cry because my face hurt. I cried because of the reason my face hurt. Derek held onto me as I shook in both fear and sorrow. Jackson had hit me today and it was all my fault. I mean here I was sitting in a room with his brother again. "I-I have to go Derek."  "Sure, need a ride?"  "No. I'm just going back to um, his room." I mumbled the last part.  "Do you really think I'm going to let you go back?"  "It's not your decision to make!"  "Bridgette don't go and make the same mistake again! Do you really think he's not going to do it again?"  I licked my lips and turned my head. "You don't understand. It was my fault, and he got mad and he wasn't thinking straight. It was a mistake!"  "Bridgette no." Derek the okay side of my face and stared at me deep in the eyes. "Don't you ever think that this—any of this was ever or ever will be your fault. Get that thought out of your head."  "Derek I have to go."  "Bridgette please." Derek begged. "I don't know how you can let him treat you like that. You have to know that you're better than that—I mean your s-smart and beautiful! And you're everything he's not! You're kind, sweet, and actually care and I know that from just meeting you twice! Bridgette you're like a, like a-okay give me a second." Derek retaliated and stared at me in frustration. Suddenly he shot up his hand causing me to flinch. You're sort of like a rainbow and he's a grey cloud blocking you!"  I stood between the door conflicted. A part of me didn't want to go back but at the same time I did. I didn't want to go back. Jackson hurt me, in more ways than one and the pain was more emotional than physical. I loved Jackson, I mean he was perfect. He was incredibly sweet and kind he was the most amazing boyfriend. I couldn't comprehend how he could've hit me. I bit my lip in frustration.  Maybe we both just needed a few days figure it out. I'm sure it was an accident. People do all types of irrational things when they're angry.  "O-Okay." I mumbled shortly. "I won't go—but I won't stay here either." I looked up at Derek. "I want to go anywhere away from this." I waved around my hands.  "It's going to be epic tonight—but first let me get you a shirt. Yours is bloody."  I looked down at my shirt and grimaced. Drops of blood were splattered on the shirt as if I had accidentally smeared ail polish on myself. "Yeah that would be a good idea."  "Come with me." He said grabbing my hand. We silently pulled through the hallway and I stared at Jackson's door. God knows what he was doing in there. Derek pulled me into his room and I sat down on his bed. I stared at his all black room perplexed at the lack of color while Derek rummaged through his closet.  "Here, put these on." Derek tossed me a leather jacket and a t-shirt that said Thrasher, whatever band that was.  I walked into his bathroom and changed into the clothes. I stripped out of t-shirt and I whimpered looking at the purple bruise on my hip bone. Slowly I turned around to look at my face. I opened my eyes and bit my lip so hard I felt blood. I didn't want to cry.  Derek had done a wonderful job with bandaging. The white gauze was wrapped up perfectly in a medium sized square as if a doctor had done it. It seemed as if I had just gotten stitches of some sort. I was surprised at how well he did for I didn't think it was something he usually had to do. However, no matter how perfect his bandages were it couldn't distract anyone from the red bruise like circle that laced around under my right eye that had failed to be covered.  I turned away. I looked more like a corpse than a person. And soon enough I would feel that way as well. But I didn't know that then.  I shoved on the tshirt which hung down to my knees and I shrugged on the jacket which was hanging well over my hands. I pushed open the bathroom door and smiled at Derek who had his keys and cellphone in hand. "Let's go?" He asked. "You look hot—not as hot as me but we'll get there. We can take you shopping tomorrow."