Coming from an abusive household, Meredith Hill makes up her mind to finally escape. She runs till she meets a family friend who decides to take her in as one of her own. When high school is added to the mix, she must learn how to cope with her past...
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"When you need a shelter from the rain When you need a healer for your pain I will be there time and time again When you need someone to love you Here I am" —Leona Lewis
The rest of the school day was the same. No one had bothered me again, though I did get some glances. Reid hadn't left my side all day, besides dropping me off at my classes. A part of me thought he was doing this out of pity, maybe he'd figured I'd already had a rough first day. Yet, another part of me knew that there was something more. I heard that Vivian went home shortly after my trip to the girls restroom with Reid. Something about her 'being humiliated' made my stomach churn.
If I anything, I was the one who was humiliated, I was the one who should have gone home.
But no, I walked down those hallways going from class to class, getting my shit taken care of. When I thought of Vivian going home, only one word popped into my mind: bitch.
The bell rang that signaled the end of our day. I was heading out of class, slinging my backpack across my shoulder, when I heard him.
"Hey Mere, I hope you don't mind if I take you home?" He looked downwards to the tiled hallways, and I giggled. A ruthless bad boy, being shy of escorting a meek girl home?
"I would appreciate that, thank you Reid," I gave him a warm smile, which he gladly returned. He took my hand and began guiding me through the hallways. His hand was bigger compared to my tiny one, more coarse, yet so soft. He would ever so often give my hand a light reassuring squeeze, which I smiled to and returned. We made our way through the parking lot and came to . . . a bike? I immediately got nervous.
"Uh-h, is that—"
"Mine? Yes," He said proudly, but sensed my nerves. "I know how to ride, don't worry. You're safe with me," He held out a big, shiny black helmet for me. I looked up to his eyes and he urged me to take the helmet by flickering his eyes toward it and back to me. With a groan, I hesitantly grabbed it. He just chuckles and hops on the bike. The bike is huge, with a matte finish. It's quite beautiful, I've always wanted to learn to ride one. I straddle the bike on shaky legs and put my hands in my lap. He chuckles lightly before grabbing my arms and wrapping them around his torso.
"I would hold on—tight, if I were you." The rumble of his Harley vibrated my body as he started it up which ignited a flame of adrenaline in my veins. I became excited. So excited I forgot to wrap my arms around his torso, so he did it for me. I can feel each defined ab underneath this thin shirt. His chest moves up and down indicating his laughter. I can't hear it though, which makes me a bit sad. I like his laugh.
I find myself resting my head on his back as we drive around town. At times, he stops and asks 'how I'm doing' or 'if I'm enjoying the ride'. Each time I respond with obvious positivity. I've always wanted to do this, and finally doing it, I feel free. With my mother, I've always felt like I was drowning. Struggling underneath tight waves as I try and try to reach the surface, and every time I come close to air, I'm pulled right back down into the darkness. This. This feels like a breath of fresh air. The air that I've been struggling so long, so hard for to breathe. And now that I've inhaled, I never want to exhale.
