Don't Tell

Chapter 11

I lay there in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to Friends playing in the background from the laptop. I was hidden underneath the comforter. My right foot twitching and my lips slightly open to release my hot breath. The sleep last night was unpleasant, knowing I was so vulnerable and violated not too long ago. I count my breaths and repetitively caressing my arm before I hear the door to the non familiar room slowly open. I lift my head and see the person who I called in panic last night. 

"Hey," Nick said softly as he poked his head in, his hair brushing the side of the door frame.

"Hi."

Nick propped the door open and walked towards the bed with his hands in the pockets of his black jeans.

"How are you feeling?" 

"Never felt better," I sat up in the bed and took a deep breath.

He stepped closer and slowly sat down at the end of the bed, placing one of his hands beside him. He looked directly into my eyes and then landed them on my bruised jaw. I stare at him till he realized that it hurts just as much to acknowledge my marks than to get them, prompting the exact moment when I received them.

"Did Garrett do this to you?"

"Are you kidding me?" I snarl, "no, he didn't."

"Well, where was he when this happened, huh?" 

"Keep your jealousy out of this."

"Jealousy? Look at yourself, Layla. You-"

"I don't need this right now. Especially from you," I shut him up by harshly slamming my hands on the bed, "please just wait downstairs while I get dressed and then take me home. Where are my clothes?"

"I threw them away," he said blatantly.

"You what? What the f-"

"They had blood all over them."

I stopped talking and just stared at him. I closed my eyes and threw my head back while holding my legs close to my chest. I let out a deep sigh and stay there for a minute as I wore Nicks clothing.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd want your bloody clothes back," he said with a tone of attitude.

"No, it's fine," I say quietly, "thank you."

He looks at me and takes a deep breath.

"I'll wait downstairs." 

After Nick left, I stood up and looked around the room he let me sleep in. A room with white walls and dark wood furniture. My feet hit hardwood floor. Looking down, I could see my reflection on the cherry wood. I lifted my view and lay my eyes on multiple picture frames on a dresser. A low quality picture of a  woman holding a paintbrush to her cheek while wearing the biggest smile sat in the middle of the chest. I tilt my head to attempt to get a better look. 

Her hair was in a low ponytail, held back by a red bandana. You could see multiple colored paint stains on her oversized, blue button up and her eyes as green as a calm, swampy pond where thousands of living things claimed as their own. I notice in the background of the photograph, a mirror on the wall with a familiar figure in the reflection, holding the camera. I bring my face closer to the photo only to realize that the figure looked like Nick. I stepped away from the dresser and wondered if that was in fact Nick, and who the woman was in the picture.

As I make my way down the hardwood staircase, I obtain a better perspective of where I am. I pass by multiple pictures and paintings on the wall. Wow, I'm involved with someone extremely grown-up and modern.