Heart As Cold As Ice | 18+ | ✓

14: alondra

After getting me water to wash my mouth out, Jack pulled me into him with no protest from me. He holds me until I've finally started to calm down, no longer shaking. I unpeel myself from Jack, realizing that we're now sitting on Pritchett's bed and I was practically in his lap. Dylan is hovering by the door, standing there protectively. The room feels tiny with both of them here.

"Alondra?" Jack prods and I grab a tissue to clean up my face.

"Sorry I threw up. Must have eaten something bad this morning. I think I got snot on your shirt," I mumble, taking my coat off and dumping it on the floor. The room reeks of vomit and I open a window, feeling the cold air immediately.

He waves it off like it doesn't bother him. It should. It's really gross.

"Are you okay?" Dylan asks and I don't have it in me to come up with a convincing lie.

"No, but I will be. Thanks for coming."

Jack is staring at me, his eyes narrowed. "Did someone hit you?"

"No," I answer honestly.

"Your lip is bleeding," Dylan's voice is soft and I grab another tissue to pat my lip. Sure enough, my lip is bleeding.

I wipe my cheeks and blow my nose again. "I must have bitten my lip."

"Al, you don't have to lie, " Jack says.

"I'm fine. I'm fine." I say, my voice breaking on the second fine. "Thanks for coming, but you guys should go. It's all good. I need to clean before Pritchett gets back."

"You're not fine and it's not all good," Dylan says, giving me a sympathetic look. "Maybe we can help, but we have to talk about it to know."

I rub my temples and twist my hair back into a bun to keep it out of my face. I cringe at the thought of how Grady brushed my hair back. "He left. There's nothing more to it."

"Who left?" Jack's voice is low and sends shivers through me.

"Does it matter?" I ask, unable to help glancing at Dylan. I don't think I have a choice in the matter of telling Jack, but the way Dylan's looking at me—whether he knows it or not—is why I don't tell people about Grady.

Jack follows my gaze to Dylan and he wipes his hands on his thighs. "Dyl, can we have a few moments?"

"Uh sure," He agrees, "I'm sorry we didn't get here sooner. Can I take care of that?" Dylan asks, motioning to the trashcan.

"No, you don't have to do that," I try to insist, but Jack is already handing it to him. I didn't think it was possible to be even more embarrassed. Dylan steps out a moment later and I climb onto my bed, pulling my knees to my chest as if I can hide into myself.

"It was Grady, wasn't it?" Jack ask, cutting right to the chase. It confirms my suspicion that Grady was indeed the football player who approached Jack.

"Yeah. He was waiting for me to get back from class."

Jack tenses, "Fuck Al. What would you have done if you weren't on the phone with me?"

I don't even want to consider that possibility. I don't know what I would have done. I'm honestly surprised I didn't collapse into a puddle of tears in front of Grady.

I close my eyes, shutting them tightly because I don't think I can look at him when I say this. "We were together for a little less than a year. He would hit me where people couldn't see the marks it left. No matter how sick what Grady did was, I did love him. I wanted to be loved so desperately that I did whatever he asked because I thought it'd make him happy. Classic case of daddy issues," I whisper quietly.