Ingrid Rodríguez
A 20-year-old girl who knows almost to nothing of the outside world. Her strict parents made her see what they wanted her to see. They wanted her away from the outside world so much that they put her in online school throughout her...
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"Just two kids caught in the crossfire Close your eyes, I know you're so tired Just kids, you and I, I know it's hard sometimes But you'll be alright, oh, we'll be alright"
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Ingrid's POV
Walking into the gym, I waved at the guys as they gave me rather stiff nods as their version of hello. Some of them I didn't recognize, and as they looked at me with slight curiosity, I felt slightly bad as the guys I did know gave them glares that made them immediately look away. As I walked through the gym, I was waved over to Tristian's section by Kane, who was talking with James as well. Going over to them, I spoke.
" Hi guys, " I smiled, and they returned the gesture as Kane was the one to speak next.
" Hey Ingrid, Tristian should be over in a minute. He just left to take a quick shower. " He spoke, and I nodded as James moved his belongings so I could sit. They seemed to have wanted to go to the lockers as well to clean up, and I shooed them away, assuring them I would be fine waiting for Tristian. However, watching their backs as they walked gave me a bit of uncertainty as I had a few rather unfavorable encounters in the gym before.
Dressed in a baby blue fitted hoodie, a pair of black yoga pants, and white running shoes, I made the somewhat spontaneous decision to meet Tristian at the gym rather than wait for him to pick me up at home. After our date a few days ago, he seemed to be getting much more busy at work, and today, he had more time to spend with me. It was probably my eagerness to see him that caused me to meet him here early, though I'd argue it was worth it.
Nonetheless, I kept myself busy by flipping through one of Tristian's sketchbooks I'd borrowed from his pile at his apartment. He knew I had taken a few souvenirs, such as hoodies, sketches, t-shirts, etc., and I was glad when he allowed me to rummage through his idea pile, as I liked to call it. Looking through the drawings, my fingers danced along his pencil strokes as I analyzed every little aspect of his details and artistry.
As I flipped through the pages, I tilted my head as I noticed an unfinished illustration. One of a girl, sitting in the corner, presumably afraid. As I looked at the page, I felt indifferent. For some reason, I didn't quite like this drawing, and I wasn't sure why. Looking at it gave me many emotions, actually. Some feelings of sadness and pity for the faceless girl surfaced; however, with the small feeling of hope I wanted to have for the girl, I felt a sense of involuntary acceptance. One in which she was forced to accept her conditions and not question them.
