To Catch A Dream

Bailey Part Twenty Six

I wake up again, and this time, Jonah's sleeping. His arms are wrapped gently but firmly around me, and he's leaning on a tree. I rest on his chest, looking at the bright blue sky. It's so still. So calm. It's a constant right now, unlike anything in my life. I tenderly touch my wound, and I notice it has been cleaned and bandaged. It feels nice, to be cared for like this. I need Jonah, he's like air to me. Once I met him, once I got to know him, it has always been like that. I'm not sure if he returns the feeling or needs me like that.

After a while, I carefully remove Jonah's arms and get up. I'm still a little dizzy, but I guess it has to do. When I start to look at my surroundings, I see I have a crowd. A bunch of people are around us, and they are staring, wait, it's more like glaring. All of the girls looked furious, probably because Jonah had his arms around me, a good for nothing nobody. It seems like I'm not the only person who is surprised that Jonah, out of all the girls there are at this school, chose me. Got to admit, not a very ordinary move for a star player on the football team. The popular boys, the friends of Jonah looks embarrassed that a guy like him would choose a girl like me. It stings. So goddamn much. Jonah's friends have no right to feel embarrassed. It was his choice to become my friend, no one forced him to.

I see one of Jonah's friends nearing me, the guy I got into a fight with before. His fist slams into my chest, and the wind is knocked out of me. I'm too weak to handle another fight. Shit. What have I gotten myself into? I can hear cheers coming from everyone. They're all chanting to beat me up. He grabs the collar of my shirt and pulls me up, and again, his fist slams into my stomach. I try to stifle a scream. It hurts so much. All my wounds are ripped open, both physically and mentally. But I will not make a fool out of myself. If my soul is weak, my body will compensate for it. I dig my nails into the guy's hand that is grasping the collar of my shirt and tear it off. He will not touch me without my permission. Adrenaline rushes through me and I wrap a hand around his neck and punch him in the stomach. My knuckle throbs from the impact because of his rock hard abs. Then he picks me up like a broken doll and flings me five feet away. I land flat on my back, and my body burns. He walks towards me and raises a leg to stamp me, but at that very moment. Jonah is up. His eyes are distant and dim, that glint of brightness is gone. His features are hard, and he looks like he can't contain his anger. He is standing in front of my body, to protect me. The guy walks back, his sick happiness replaced with fear.

"Only cowards pick on people who are vulnerable," Jonah whispers.

"But..." the other guy tries to say.

"Get the hell out," Jonah's voice is calm, but fire is laced within it.

"They're gone," he mumbles.

So I lay there, with my body set on fire.