Thirty Days

Ƭωσ;; Aρяιℓ 22ѕ∂ 2012

"Ɯє αℓℓ gєт α∂∂ιcтє∂ тσ ѕσмєтнιηg тнαт тαкєѕ тнє ραιη αωαу."

My alarm clock blares next to my head. My eyes peel open. I am still curled up under the blanket, wet, smelling like the lake, my hair still damp. I glance at the time, realizing it's only 6. I have time to shower.

When I move to stand up, the pain between my legs brings back all the memories of the night before. Blake, me, the lake water. My throat closes at the thought.

"Jane! Are you awake?" my mother yells from the bottom of the stairs. I nearly jump out of my skin.

"Yeah!" I call out back, my heart pounding. I go to the bathroom and strip down, staring at myself in the mirror. There are bruises circling the back of my neck, hand prints on my hips. My thighs are bruised, my stomach has scratches on it, my butt is green and yellow.

Turning away, I put the water as hot as it will go to drown out the feeling of him on me. The memory. Get the lake water out of me. He had ruined my safe place and my fanasty world at the same time; they both involved him. Now, the very thought of him made me recoil in horror, made my stomach roll, my heart pound in an awful way.

I scrubbed for twenty minutes before stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around myself. I get dressed quickly, pulling on a loose pair of sweats, a big baggy hoodie, and pulling the back of the hood over my neck, sticking my wet hair under it.

I check the mirror to make sure the bruises are covered before going downstairs and sitting at the table.

"Eat breakfast, Jane," my mother says, pointing to the four pancakes with syrup on my plate. I stare at it, unsure.

Don't you dare... You'll gain a hundred pounds from all that food

I shake my head. "I'm not that hungry... Still kind of tired, actually. I'll just buy lunch at school today to fill me up. Hannah and I are going out for lunch anyway."

"Oh, you're talking to Hannah again?"

My mother is beaming, and my heart gives a little squeeze. I sigh. "Yeah, mom."

She smiles at my dad. "See honey, she's hanging out with people."

He looks at me over his paper and sees the look on my face before glancing at my mother and nodding his head. His eyes are worried - he cares about me, I think. But he's also so wrapped up in himself he wouldn't notice if I was gone.

I smile and stand up. "I'm going to be late."

"No your not you stil-"

Yet I am gone out the door before she can finish her sentence. I know I still have twenty minutes before the usual time that I leave, but I want to get there early to avoid Blake and Jessica, to avoid the rumorurs he's spread about me. Avoid it all, get to class, make it through the day. That's my goal.

When I walk through the school doors, there are only a few students and teachers lingering around, most of them chatting or on their cell phones. I rush in, make it to my locker, and down the hallway where I can hide under the stairs until the bell rings, which I will then slip into the crowd and make it to my class.

It is sucessful, and I make it there just fine. The teacher drones on, and I slip onto my phone, scrolling through my Facebook until I see that I have a few friend requests. I narrow my eyes at the screen. No one adds me on Facebook. Not unless it was an accident when they were making fun of my profile to friends.