Hate To Love You

Chapter 2

The man charged at her. "Please!" the woman begged, "I love you! Stop doing this, Joe! Please!"

The woman's pleas didn't seem to have any effect on the man. He took her by the hair and slammed her head into the wall. I wanted to stop the man, to scream and pry his hands off the woman. But I couldn't. I was frozen in place, forced to watch the horrible scene unravel before me.

The woman cried, but tried to stifle her wails."Stop crying all the time!" He screamed. I was close enough to smell the alcohol off his breath. The woman just regarded him with wide, pleading eyes.

The man raised his free hand, when, all of a sudden, he let go of her. He took a few breaths before saying, "Baby, I'm sorry. Baby, I didn't mean it. I love you. I'm sorry." The woman fell into his arms, attempting to stop the tears. I wanted to scream at her to get away from him, to run as far away as possible. But I could only stand there and listen as he repeated "I love you" and she, "I forgive you".

I woke up to the sound of my alarm blaring. Clairissa moaned and put a pillow over her head.

My heart was hammering in my chest. I laid in bed for a few moments, focusing on breathing evenly and slowing down my heart rate. I closed my eyes and slowly counted to 3.

When I opened my eyes, my heart was back to normal and I was capable of walking properly. Completely shaken, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and brushed the sweaty hair off my face.

"Skye, turn that stupid thing off!" Clair grumbled grumpily. I forced myself to get up and walk over to the other side of the room to turn off the alarm.

"Thank god!" Clairissa said, her voice sounding funny and muffled from under her pillow.

I went over to make my bed. "C'mon Clair, get up or we're gonna be late."

She made a funny noise. "But I don't wannaaa."

I picked up a pillow from the end of my bed and threw it at her. She groaned and tried to throw one back, only it missed me completely.

"Dibs on bathroom first," I said as I finished up and headed toward the bathroom.

When I closed the door I looked in the mirror. I looked like hell. My long brown hair was a birds nest, random strands sticking out in the most random places and others glued to my face. My brown eyes had a dark shade of black under them from the mascara I forgot to wash off last night. My fair skin had a random line across my cheek, probably due to my sleeping position. My neck felt really hot and I just really wanted to shower.

I stripped and hopped in, savouring the feel of the water again my skin. As I showered I tried to shake off the dream and the feeling it gave me. Dreams like that were normal for me, but no matter how many times I had them I always woke up upset and disturbed.

10 minutes later I got out and wrapped a towel around myself. I brushed my hair (the struggle was real), teeth and put on my mascara and lipbalm. When I looked in the mirror again, I was pleased to see how well I managed to clean up in less than 15 minutes.

I left the bathroom in my towel and headed over to my dresser to pick out jean shorts and a black tank top. Clair bolted for the bathroom and I got dressed. As I I got all my books and shoved them in my bag. With nothing else to do, I sat down on my bed and checked my phone. My best friend Hazel had texted me and was supposedly picking me up on Saturday so that we could go to some party. I rolled my eyes, trying to devise a plan so I didn't have to go.

I opened up Instagram to scroll through and kill time. I had a couple notifications from followers but one particular name stood out.

Apparently someone named Dylan Price had liked the picture I posted in the white shirt I bought last week - the one that got iced coffee spilt on it a couple days ago.