His Lifeline

Chapter 9: The Library Sleep Spot

When I woke up the next morning, I grabbed a clean black hoodie, a green t-shirt, jean pants, and underwear. Quietly unlocking my bedroom door, I opened it a bit and checked up and down the hall. Then I looked at the bathroom door, looking for a light. Seeing nothing, I slipped out, closed my door, and ran into the restroom, locking it behind me.

Turning on the shower, I waited a few minutes for it to warm up and started stripping. I unwrapped all my bandages besides the one on my wrist. Even though the image was seared into my brain, I didn't need a reminder.

I stepped into the shower and felt the warm water rejuvenate my tense and tired muscles and bring relief to my aching cuts and bruises. After a few minutes of taking in the water, I quickly washed my body and hair. Cleaning the leftover makeup on my face, hoping it didn't break out my face since I neglected to clean it off last night.

After rinsing off, I reluctantly stepped out of the shower and got dressed. I dried my hair in a towel and rewrapped my bandages. I pressed the towel to my wrist's bandages to dry them without having to change them. Then I slipped on my clothes and rechecked the hallway.

Zooming across the space to my bedroom, I locked the door and went to my desk, pulling out my makeup kit. Applying quick and effective makeup, I threw the hood over my head and made sure I had my phone and house key. Checking the hallway one last time, I ran quietly out of my room and prayed that Gabe wasn't awake.

Seeing him passed out on the couch was a blessing. What wasn't a blessing were the numerous beer bottles thrown across the floor like a fucking obstacle course.

"Fuck" I whispered as I started to go across the floor. Tip-toeing over the bottles wasn't easy, and my heart was pounding in my ears as I tried to go fast enough, so Gabe didn't wake up while I was still in the house. Not to mention in the center of a weapon-filled space.

Sighing in relief as I got to the front door, I rejoiced in my head about how my clumsiness hadn't made me crash and burn. I quickly exited the house and walked towards the school.

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The day was going by fast. Before I knew it, he was walking out of Music Class and into the PE locker room. Absentmindedly walking to the bathroom stalls and putting on my clothes, I tried to wrap my head around the fact that I was eating dinner at Annabeth's house tonight.

I hoped that whatever I wore to school was presentable. I shut my eyes tight as I tried to tune out instances my mind created. Where Annabeth made me go home to Gabe before dinner or when she just up and refused to allow me into the house for the study session.

I chewed my nail as I walked out of the locker room into the gym. The teacher probably had something different for us to kill each with today. Last week was dodgeball. This week was hopefully a more mellow and calm sport that didn't involve bruising my bruises.

Unfortunately, only teachers with an eye for competition and blood, sweat, and tears were able to teach PE, so we were told to play flag football.

Right now, I wished we could have stuck to dodgeball. At least then I just had to suck it up for a single hit and then sit out for the rest of the day. But in flag football, I could already feel the bruises forming.

The teacher explained the rules and quickly walked up in front of the class and whispered to him that I wasn't feeling well, and my throat was all scratchy. The good thing about PE teachers is that most of the time, they're so excited to get to the blood, sweat, and tears that any disruption in their main focus is accepted so the class can continue to the 'fun' part.