Dalaric

Ten: "𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣'𝙩"

Behind every beautiful thing, there's some kind of pain.
Bob Dylan

—

Fire.

That's what it feels like in my body as I limp towards the bathroom. I take off my blood-soaked shirt and pants while holding onto the sink for support. I have to hold onto the walls to make it into the shower. A blood curdling scream echoes in the house, it takes me time to realize that it's mine. The hot shower stings each wound of flesh. Particularly my shoulder.

I should've paid the land lord extra to let me have cold water in the mornings. I scrub everywhere but the wound and get rid of the murky dirt and trauma. I put my iPod nano on shuffle, something I bought at a garage sale. It doesn't really help when 'I miss you' by Blink-182 starts playing.

Stupid iPod.

After changing into a very oversized shirt that comes below my knees, I put on some knee high socks after bandaging my shoulder to my best effort.

How does one even do that themselves? Maybe they have a YouTube tutorial on it. Too bad I don't have wifi. I only use the cafés computer to sync songs into my iPod. Shay tells me I need Instagram. It sounds mentally harmful.

After about thirty minutes of scrubbing the kitchen floor and washing my bloody sheets and clothes while simultaneously trying not to cry , I look at the time on the clock.

7:00 AM

Dalaric's here.

I force myself not to get up, put some pants on and run into his arms. I think I would even go as far as to skip the pants part. That's how much I want to be near him.

It's only when I peek out the small window in the kitchen do I let my eyes water.

I'm so selfish.

There he is, leaning against his car with his arms crossed, in all black. He's wearing a black turtle neck under a leather jacket along with black cargo pants. He looks good enough to eat along with his cornrows. It hurts when you desire someone you can see but can't touch.

I want to hug him.

I want to boop his nose.

I want to touch his hands.

But I can't.

I look around the streets below and my eyes widen as a smirking Joshua stands at the far end of the street, next to a red Ferrari. He winks at me and I retreat back into the house and sit on the now cleaned floor.

I'm not sure I can even handle school right now. I guess I'll have to email my essay at the café.

I play with a loose string on my shirt as the first knock sounds. I clench my eyes as I lean back onto the wall, a hand over my mouth to muffle my sounds of calling him out.

The second knock sounds. It's daunting , how he's right outside the door but so far away. "Mayella. Open." His groggy voice calls out.

I'm so selfish because i'm wasting him time. But I can't text him, who knows if Landon or Joshua are watching my every move. I hate that I don't want to risk it.

I get up and pad softly towards the gate to my happiness. Sudden images make me halt in my steps. Images of Landon doing worse things to me. Images of Joshua muffling my screams and hurting more than my wrist.

I'm selfish.

I wait and wait, until I hear booted steps make their way down the building stairs. I turned my phone off four hours ago , he definitely thinks I'm ignoring him. There's no point in apologizing , he already hates me.