𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙁𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧'𝙨 𝙂𝙞𝙧𝙡

Ch.18 - The Joyride

I simply stood there completely flabergasted while gaping at my phone. Any person who walked into the room probably would have mistaken me for an overgrown fish. Eyes wide, mouth continuously opening then shutting. Somebody might as well grab a glass bowl and box of feed.

I mean, really! The sheer amount of gall he must have to rush me into coming to the gym -in FIFTEEN MINUTES may I add- is mindblowing.

And here I am, the dummy who's actually going to do as he says.

"Desperate times, desperate measures..." I sigh to myself. For the second time today I find myself peeking at the clock to count the hours until Jack gets home. Hopefully, all this won't take too long.

I quickly strip off my clothes and search through the pile on my floor. I toss on a loose fitting navy blue t-shirt with a pair of grey sweat pants. Like last time, I'm keeping my hair drawn down over my neck.

It really does kill me to face the fact that I have to constantly do this. I haven't put in a single ponytail since the night Jack sprung loose on me.

In truth, I don't actually have to keep it down while at home, but then again; what would you do?

Walk around with a hideous scar on full display for your abuser? Let him sit there, snicker proudly of practically branding you for life? Or maybe even torture yourself with seeing that same god forsaken scar whenever and where ever you make the mistake of turning your back near a mirror? I may sound like a sob story, but I still have my pride. And I'm not letting my uncle take away anymore of it than he already has.

I once again gaze at myself in the mirror but instead of turning away, I brought a hand up to knead the back of my neck. My index finger found its way to the bottom of my scar, and I began tracing the length of it.

The inevitable wave of emotion struck me the moment my hand came in contact with the scar. Next thing I knew, angry tears threatened to fall.

"Well don't I look like a million bucks." I chuckled cynically as the mirror revealed my reddened, glassy eyes. Feeling a little too exposed sitting in the middle of my own room, I turned away and began to continue dressing.

I was sitting on the edge of my bed pulling on a pair of white sneakers when my phone rang for a second time. And surprise, surprise, it's the same number that plagued my phone five minutes ago.

"Dean?" I answered quizzically.

"Princess, what's your address?", he asked swiftly cutting to the chase. The question took me back a bit.

"I'm sorry...what?" I inquire slowly, thinking that I need to clean my ears.

"Your address," he repeats. It's weird, but I just know he's smirking right now. "What is-" he continues but I interrupt his sentence.

"Are you smirking right now?" I chime while raising an eyebrow. I wasn't expecting to say that, but now that it's out, I might as well go with it.

"W-what?" he scoffs, him too not expecting my sudden randomness. An amused grin spreads across my face at his reaction. It feels nice to do something Dean doesn't expect for once, even if it wasn't fully intentional.

"I bet you're grinning like the Cheshire cat right now, enjoying your chance to tease me." I openly wonder into the phone.

"And what if I am?"

"Well, are you?"

The other end goes dead for a second and it seems as if he's weighing his next words.

"What can I say? You are fun to harass, Patience." He states, his voice reflecting his emotions.

"I thought you had so graciously dubbed my name as Princess."