That Little Letter

Chapter Seventy One

WARNING: LOVE SCENES. CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK.

The days after felt like they dragged on for centuries. Whenever she stepped foot into her school, she felt like she'd rather be home, curled up in a ball on her bed. She didn't have answers when teachers asked her for one and whenever she was asked how she was doing, she wouldn't speak and would often walk away. Johnny kept showing up and kept wrapping his arms around her in the middle of the hallways, which made her squirm slightly and worry him. For days, she had chosen not to speak to anyone, not even her mother when she was home. Dove had completely changed into a walking, emotionless robot.

Whenever Dove was home, she would lock herself up in her room and cry, or hide on her laptop playing video games. Her mother would knock on her door at least twenty times a day, but Dove would never answer. Her voice box officially was on mute, and soon, people stopped looking toward her for answers. She was just a paper weight wherever she went, and she could care less.

She didn't get an answer from Max, which both upset her and relieved her. Maybe it was his way of stepping away from her again, which wasn't an issue. She would rather be alone than to be confused with people around. Plus, she didn't know what she wanted anymore and it made her life simpler if she didn't think. So whenever Johnny came over, she'd kiss him so that he wouldn't have a chance to ask her how she was feeling. She let him mess with her hair and hug her hips as he pushed her against the wall. She was just a puppet now, and she found it easier to deal with rather than looking into her real feelings.

When she told Max that she was taken, she had almost wished that he'd fight for her. Johnny would get jealous and try to win her over, but Dove would secretly root for Max to win. Deep down, Dove loved Max, but she couldn't focus on that love while she was with Johnny. He was too demanding of attention and love, and so she was there whenever he needed either of them. She was like his personal cheerleader, cheering him on through endless kisses and make out sessions. She was like his puppet.

So when Friday night came along and she heard him knock at the backdoor, she felt hollow. She left like she didn't matter. She left like she was the victim of whatever game he was playing, and there was no turn off button. She was trapped. However, she sucked it all in and snuck down the hall and opened the door for him, just to be welcomed with his cold lips on her's. Chills no longer ran down her spine from that contact. Instead, she wanted to push him away. But that couldn't happen as he lowered his hands to her thighs and boosted her up so she could wrap her legs around his hips, which she did as if she were forced to.

And then, he walked toward her bedroom and closed the door with his free hand.