Jacqueline || BWWM

Chapter Nineteen

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I noticed Jace was a little, upset when he entered the car. Like, he's jar seemed to be locked in place, and his eyes tore holes on the road with consecration, but this is a whole new level.

His few words are gritted tight with determination, and send unsettling chills up my arms. Jaylin who always looks so cool and collect, even in her drunk state, has the brains to shut it.

For a second anyway.

"You're not the boss of me, Jacey!" She screeches. Loud and oh so noxious, her high voice floods the too tiny vehicle, the sound filling every last inch of space.

God, please.

"Jaylin." The quieter tone he takes on when saying her name is much scarier.

Though it does it's job and silents Jaylin quiet nicely, something about it is off. Jaylin has proven on multiple opportunities to be the kind of person who does and says what she wants when she wants to. So why does she obey her brother's command?

Jace parks the car in his parent's garage but leaves the doors locked. I question nothing, choosing to just take my seatbelt off instead, as he gets out of the car.

"Jacey is such an aśs! Leaving me in the car like this!"

Maybe if I stay silent she'll forget about me.

Call it rude or whatever, but I'm too tired to try to converse with a drunk. To be completely honest,
the only appealing idea in this current period of time is a quick shower and sleep. Lots and lots of sleep.

Jace comes back moments later and unlocks my door first. It's like my butt's on fire the way I practically race from the car and into the house.

The first thing I do is a shower. I spend a good half hour here. Scrubbing and scrubbing until it starts hurting. But even that does nothing to ease the desperately ache to be clean. I feel like if I can somehow manage to fully clean off the skin he touched it will all be better.

The sad truth, in the end, is that it's not.

Thirty minutes later, I walk out of the small bathroom. A fluffy white towel is wrapped tightly around my scratched up body as I walk the few meters to my temporary room. Pulling on the first articles of clothing I see, a white tank top and blue sweat pants, I grab the blanket from my bed and crawl onto my window seat.

The view my eyes land on is breathtaking. Millions of white stars coat the ink black sky like little flecks of snow to the ground. Many thoughts consume me as I lazily rest my head on a pillow, yet I pay no attention to most. This is my time to relax. To think. To just be me. Jacqueline.

I watch the few trees that take residence in the neighborhood gently sway to the winds song.

They are so free. No cares. No worries.

I'm so jealous of that fact, that I almost want to cry.

How can I be like that? Why do I have to be this way?

Biting my lower lip so hard that I almost draw blood, I pull out my phone and dial the number of the only person who's been constant in my life for the past twelve years: Selenia (Sell-lee-ya): my foster agent.