next to mine so that I didn't face plant, but I did. It hurt a lot, I even cried a little, then my friend Giana picked me up, helped dust me off, we had a few laughs about it. Now I'm home, going to go soak in a bath with Epsom salt and relax. I'm fine, I promise." Each word is slow, sincere, and complete bullshit- but I think he believes me. Or at least, he's going to pretend to.
I watch as his teeth grind back and forth. He stares at me, taking in different parts of my face, slowly working his way down my body. His scrutiny makes me uncomfortable. Maybe he doesn't believe me after all. I don't know what more to say, or do for that matter, but under no circumstance can I tell him the truth.
He reaches for my cheek, cupping it in his hand. It's tender- a bit sweaty and extremely warm- but the thought of it is soothing. It's a gentle touch, the kind I don't receive often enough. "I don't know what to say." I can tell by his voice he doesn't believe me. I hold back my anxiousness, knowing I need to hold onto this story. "Brenna, you can be honest with me," he pleads. "I... I've dealt with a situation like this before. If you're being abused, or harmed by someone, in any way, please tell me. I'll get you the help you need. We can go down to the police station and-"
"Stop," I snap. "Stop right there. First off, thanks. I mean it, I appreciate your efforts." Even though I'm sure with my snappy attitude I don't sound thankful, but I am. "But no cop is going to save me . They don't care about helping people out, it's all a notion. They want recognition and a paycheck, and to be left the hell alone beyond that. Plus, if this were an abusive case, which it's not , what are they going to do? I can tell you... a bunch of bullshit. That's what! Either way, I'm fine, well I was fine, until you started in on me."
He shakes his head with despair. All it does is prove to me that he has no idea about the real world. "Are you kidding?" His voice rises back at me. "You don't think an officer of the law would help you if you were being abused?"
"Nope."
"How can you think that, Brenna?"
"Does it matter?"
"Actually, it does. I feel repugnant you would think such a thing. They are there to give protection."
I can't help my bitter snarl. "Um, no."
"Yes," he continues to argue.
"What are you... a cop?"
"No, I'm just saying..."
"That you have no idea," I add in. "I'm fine, I'm not saying it again."
"I'm only trying to help," he pleads.
Unfortunately, I've had enough of his help for now.
Putting the key into the door, I breathe a quick sigh, holding in everything I want to say. I know if I spew off all the thoughts I'm thinking I'll probably lose his friendship- and even though we haven't known each other for long, I don't want to lose that. "I'm fine, Everett. Thank you for thinking of me, but again, I fell and I'm fine."
Opening the door, I don't bother looking over at him as I walk into my place, but as I start to shut the door, he pushes on it. "What are you doing?" I hiss out.
He shuts the door behind him, watching me intently. His frigid, gray eyes stare at me with infuriation- he isn't letting up, and now I'm beyond being pissed. "I'm not letting this go. You're distant. You have these walls. You're cautious in everything you do, the things you say. You refuse to discuss your past, you have hardly any friends. You're hiding things. Which is fine, you're entitled to that, but when you show up at home with a black eye, a hefty scratch on your arm, blood on your hairline, and who knows what else you're hiding under your scarf or clothes, then you're not going to tell me you fucking fell!" His voice slowly rises with equal amounts of anger and vexation.
"Leave." I have no other words. He's left me completely perplexed. He has noticed too much in the way I am- and I'm angry with myself for that. Not to mention, I did a lot worse than I thought about covering up what the bastard did to me less than two hours ago.
When he doesn't go,
I watch as his teeth grind back and forth. He stares at me, taking in different parts of my face, slowly working his way down my body. His scrutiny makes me uncomfortable. Maybe he doesn't believe me after all. I don't know what more to say, or do for that matter, but under no circumstance can I tell him the truth.
He reaches for my cheek, cupping it in his hand. It's tender- a bit sweaty and extremely warm- but the thought of it is soothing. It's a gentle touch, the kind I don't receive often enough. "I don't know what to say." I can tell by his voice he doesn't believe me. I hold back my anxiousness, knowing I need to hold onto this story. "Brenna, you can be honest with me," he pleads. "I... I've dealt with a situation like this before. If you're being abused, or harmed by someone, in any way, please tell me. I'll get you the help you need. We can go down to the police station and-"
"Stop," I snap. "Stop right there. First off, thanks. I mean it, I appreciate your efforts." Even though I'm sure with my snappy attitude I don't sound thankful, but I am. "But no cop is going to save me . They don't care about helping people out, it's all a notion. They want recognition and a paycheck, and to be left the hell alone beyond that. Plus, if this were an abusive case, which it's not , what are they going to do? I can tell you... a bunch of bullshit. That's what! Either way, I'm fine, well I was fine, until you started in on me."
He shakes his head with despair. All it does is prove to me that he has no idea about the real world. "Are you kidding?" His voice rises back at me. "You don't think an officer of the law would help you if you were being abused?"
"Nope."
"How can you think that, Brenna?"
"Does it matter?"
"Actually, it does. I feel repugnant you would think such a thing. They are there to give protection."
I can't help my bitter snarl. "Um, no."
"Yes," he continues to argue.
"What are you... a cop?"
"No, I'm just saying..."
"That you have no idea," I add in. "I'm fine, I'm not saying it again."
"I'm only trying to help," he pleads.
Unfortunately, I've had enough of his help for now.
Putting the key into the door, I breathe a quick sigh, holding in everything I want to say. I know if I spew off all the thoughts I'm thinking I'll probably lose his friendship- and even though we haven't known each other for long, I don't want to lose that. "I'm fine, Everett. Thank you for thinking of me, but again, I fell and I'm fine."
Opening the door, I don't bother looking over at him as I walk into my place, but as I start to shut the door, he pushes on it. "What are you doing?" I hiss out.
He shuts the door behind him, watching me intently. His frigid, gray eyes stare at me with infuriation- he isn't letting up, and now I'm beyond being pissed. "I'm not letting this go. You're distant. You have these walls. You're cautious in everything you do, the things you say. You refuse to discuss your past, you have hardly any friends. You're hiding things. Which is fine, you're entitled to that, but when you show up at home with a black eye, a hefty scratch on your arm, blood on your hairline, and who knows what else you're hiding under your scarf or clothes, then you're not going to tell me you fucking fell!" His voice slowly rises with equal amounts of anger and vexation.
"Leave." I have no other words. He's left me completely perplexed. He has noticed too much in the way I am- and I'm angry with myself for that. Not to mention, I did a lot worse than I thought about covering up what the bastard did to me less than two hours ago.
When he doesn't go,
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